Page 8 of Outlaw Ridge: Hayes

“Nope. I figure we’ll find it ditched or burned out somewhere in the next couple of hours,” Declan admitted.

Hayes was betting on a thorough burning. That way any and all potential trace or DNA would be destroyed.

“I’m sure Owen has a lot more stuff he has to tell you,” Declan went on a moment later. “It’s a hell of a mess.”

It was indeed that, and sadly, there was no end anywhere in sight to this particular mess.

Jemma and Hayes stepped around the reception desk, and they only had to go a couple of feet down a narrow hall before they reached the dining room.

And some coffee.

Hayes spotted that right away. A big-assed restaurant sized stainless steel pot of it on a table near the front of the room, and it was surrounded by all sorts of breakfast pastries.

All of the other five tables had been arranged like desks, and each had a computer on it. Someone had brought in a large whiteboard, no doubt to be used for posting info about the investigation.

The room wasn’t as brightly lit as it usually was because the heavy curtains had all been drawn, and there were huge panels positioned in front of them. Thermal and infrared blockers. It would prevent anyone from using a heat seeking device to pinpoint the locations of anyone inside.

A fellow operative, Reed Winston, was at one of the desks, and a Strike Force tech, Molly Trudeau, was at another. Owen was standing in the center of the room with the lanky, dark-haired mayor, Clive Rodriguez, and the tall, barrel-chested county sheriff, Jeb Harlan. The men all turned in Jemma’s and his direction.

“Get some coffee,” Owen instructed.

They did. Both Jemma and he filled their cups to the brims before they made their way to Owen, Harlan, and Rodriguez.

“The entire town is obviously in shock,” Rodriguez said, speaking to Jemma. “I understand both Owen and you were attacked as well.”

Jemma nodded, sipped her coffee. “Someone shot at Hayes and me in the parking lot outside the police department. I’m okay,” she tacked onto that.

That last part was almost certainly bullshit, but if asked, Hayes would tell the same lie.

“What will happen?” Jemma continued a moment later. “Is the county sheriff’s office taking over?”

“No, the county doesn’t have the manpower or resources for something this catastrophic,” the mayor replied, sliding glancesat both Owen and Sheriff Harlan. “The county will assist, but I had an emergency meeting with the town council, and we’ve appointed Owen as the temporary sheriff.”

Hayes looked at Owen to see how he felt about that, but his boss wasn’t giving away anything with his stony expression.

The mayor shifted to Hayes. “And Owen will deputize a dozen members of his Strike Force team to assist. Those deputy appointments will be temporary as well until we can hire a new police force.”

Now, it was Owen who looked at Hayes, no doubt to gauge his reaction to that. Hayes shrugged. He’d treat it like any other mission, but instead of the military rank of captain or the title of Strike Force operative, he’d be a deputy.

Alongside Jemma.

Hayes definitely didn’t shrug about that. Apparently, his strategy of avoiding her wasn’t going to be an option for a while. What he could do though was shorten that “a while” by launching right into the investigation.

“What do we know so far about the murders?” Hayes asked.

The mayor and county sheriff must have taken that as their clue to leave since both of them shifted away from Owen. Sheriff Harlan slipped on his Stetson. The mayor took out his keys.

“Owen’s already briefed us,” the mayor said, “so we’ll leave so he can fill you in. If there’s anything Sheriff Harlan and I can do to help, just ask.”

The two men muttered their goodbyes and walked out. As Hayes had expected, Owen didn’t waste any time launching into what he’d learned.

“I got my first reports from the CSI teams about twenty minutes ago,” Owen started, turning his laptop so he could read from the screen. “And here’s what we have. Seven of the deputies, Crawford Billings, Henry Sanchez, Jolene Mercer, Avery Dawson, Morgan Riley, Travis Boone, and Cody McCoywere all shot and killed at Sheriff Bonetti’s fishing cabin about a mile outside of town.”

“Sonofabitch,” Hayes spat out before he could stop himself. His imagination was way too good for this sort of thing, and he could see the tangle of dead bodies that the killer or killers had left in their wake.

“Those deputies all received texts from Sheriff Bonetti, asking them to come because he needed to talk to them…about Jemma,” Owen added, giving her an apologetic glance.

“About me?” she questioned, but then she sighed. “Let me guess. The texts were bogus, probably spoofed from the sheriff’s number, and those deputies were lured there because they finally thought Bonetti was going to fire me.”

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