Page 9 of Outlaw Ridge: Hayes

A muscle tightened in Owen’s jaw, and he nodded. “Right on all counts. I take it those officers didn’t approve of you being on the job?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Jemma admitted. “They were the most vocal anyway, and it was the reason the sheriff put me on the night shift. All those deputies worked either days or swing.” She paused. “So, someone got them to come and then just…what…walked in and shot them?”

“Pretty much,” Owen verified. “The text said to come to the cabin at nine and that this wouldn’t be a social visit. That was probably to make sure one of them didn’t bring their spouse or significant other.”

Hayes made a sound of agreement. That was a smart move on the killer’s part. And a good thing for the spouses or significant others who likely would have become collateral damage.

“Only two deputies had drawn their weapons so whoever opened fire on them either did it quickly or before they could all react,” Owen tacked onto his explanation.

“Or else they knew their killer,” Hayes finished for him. “I’m guessing no one saw or heard anything?”

Owen shook his head. “I’ve been to that cabin, and it’s a good mile from any other properties.”

Which was likely the reason the location had been chosen. And that meant the killer was either local or had taken the time to learn the best places in Outlaw Ridge to slaughter a good portion of the police force. Either was a possibility, which meant that narrowed down exactly squat.

“There are four medical examiners working to determine the time of death,” Owen continued after he downed some coffee. “And they believe the seven deputies in the cabin were killed first, shortly after nine pm. Sheriff Bonetti was likely murdered soon thereafter. It appears the killer shot him through his living room window.”

Again, that was another remote location since the sheriff lived outside of town on a small horse ranch. Added to that, Bonetti lived alone, so the killer wouldn’t have necessarily alerted anyone.

“That accounts for the sheriff, the seven deputies in the cabin, and the two in the police station,” Jemma said, obviously doing a mental tally. “How did the killer get to the other six?”

“The MEs and CSIs can’t tell us yet who was murdered next,” Owen admitted, “but sometime between ten pm and midnight, Deputy CiCi Barker and the dispatcher, Kevin Granger, were shot in the driveways of their homes as they were leaving for work. The killer probably used a silencer for that since the neighbors and spouses heard and saw nothing suspicious.”

Hell, this asshole killer had gotten damn lucky. Then again, Outlaw Ridge was a small town, and few people were out and about at those hours.

“As for the other four deputies, that’s a mixed bag,” Owen went on. “Mickey O’Hara and Jimmy Stanwick were killed inthe parking lot of the Salty Dog. The killer waited until they were out of the bar and in their vehicles before he shot them at point-blank range. That happened probably around eleven pm. Closing time.”

“They’re good friends.Weregood friends,” Jemma amended. “Jimmy’s wife is expecting their first child.”

Owen made a sound of agreement. “She wasn’t with him. And neither was O’Hara’s wife.”

Again, that was a sliver of a silver lining. “And what about the last two deputies?” Hayes asked.

“Maria Vasquez’s body was found in her car that was in a ditch over on Old Sawmill Road,” Owen explained. “Guessing here, but it looks as if she was shot while driving home. She lives with her folks, but they didn’t report her missing because they figured she was working late.”

“That leaves Jack Larson,” Jemma said. “He’s been on the job for nearly thirty years and was about to retire.”

Owen nodded, cursed under his breath. “He was also shot on the way home after filling up his truck at the gas station. His wife did report him missing. Or rather she tried, but she couldn’t get anyone to answer.”

Because they’d likely all been dead by then.

“The gunman shot at Hayes and me right at midnight. When were you attacked?” Jemma asked Owen.

“About fifteen minutes before that.” Owen paused. “I think Jemma and I were the last targets. The MEs might say differently, but at this point, it appears all sixteen of the others were dead before the killer came after us.”

“Maybe because we were low down on the proverbial totem pole,” she suggested. She tapped her badge. “Me, a rookie cop, and you a reserve deputy.”

“Yes, but the killer still wanted the two of us dead,” Owen pointed out. He stopped, held up his index finger. “Before we getinto the reasons for that, let me bottom line something. You can help with the interviews that’ll need to be done, or I can keep you tucked away here at the hotel where I can have a better chance of protecting—”

“No,” Jemma interrupted before Owen could finish. She tapped her badge. “I need to be a cop and not a potential victim. I’ll do the interviews or whatever else that has to be done.”

Owen nodded. Clearly, it was the answer he expected, so he continued. “Good because we’re going to need all the help we can get.” He motioned around the room. “This will be our headquarters for a while. There’s significant water damage in the police station, and the floors, ceiling, and some walls will have to be replaced.”

That didn’t surprise Hayes since he’d seen the damage firsthand. Those sprinklers had probably been spewing for a good half hour or more before Jemma and he had arrived.

“The plan is for us to all sleep here at the hotel,” Owen went on. “Easier to maintain security that way. So, sometime this morning, write out a list of things you both need from your houses, and I’ll have someone collect the items and bring them here. I don’t want you going to your place,” he added, spearing Jemma with his intense gaze. “I haven’t had the manpower yet to have it searched, and the killer could have set some kind of explosive or death trap.”

The slight gasp she made let him know she hadn’t considered that. But sooner or later, it would have occurred to her that the killer might make another attempt to end her life.

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