Page 7 of Outlaw Ridge: Hayes

And people had died.

Lots and lots of people. A sonofabitching massacre.

The final count was sixteen. Fourteen deputies, the sheriff, and the dispatcher. Yeah, definitely hell. Now, he needed to load up on caffeine and dive in to see what he could do to help.

Owen had already started the helping process by procuring the use of the town’s only hotel to set up a temporary police station. A necessity since the actual station was a crime scene and was being processed by county CSIs and other forensic experts that Owen had called in. A necessity, too, since both Owen and Jemma needed a safe place to stay while they began piecing together what the fuck had happened.

One problem that Hayes had gotten off his hands was Petey. Thankfully, two uniformed cops from San Antonio PD had shown up in the wee hours of the morning to take custody ofhim and haul his sorry ass out of town. No one in Outlaw Ridge had time to deal with a prisoner right now. Unless, of course, that prisoner was the killer who’d wiped out most of the police station.

Hayes grabbed a quick shower in the bathroom that’d been clearly designed for someone much smaller than his six- three, two-hundred and twenty pounds. Ditto for the room and the bed where he’d crashed around five AM. But he hadn’t had a choice about the crashing since by then he’d been awake for going on thirty-six hours. God knew how many hours it’d be until his next break.

He dressed in the clothes from his go-bag, stepped into the hall, and was beyond thankful when he caught the scent of coffee. Since it seemed to be coming from the bottom floor, he headed toward the stairs.

And nearly smacked right into Jemma.

She was coming out of her room that was next to his, and while she’d obviously showered and changed into a clean deputy’s uniform, Jemma had the same shell-shocked look as she had when they’d first found the two dead deputies.

Hayes figured it was a look she’d be sporting for a while.

Part of him, that stupid part, wanted to pull her into his arms and offer her a shoulder to lean on. But that wasn’t a bright idea. For one thing, no shoulder could dole out that much comfort. And for another, this attraction between them could turn from heat to urgent need on a dime. A tornado of emotions fueled by that shock and fatigue. Best not to risk playing with that kind of firepower.

“Uh,” she muttered. “I just came up for a quick shower, but there’s coffee downstairs.”

“Yeah. Headed there now. What’d I miss while I was asleep?” he asked.

She tucked some strands of her still-damp hair behind her ear, and the breath she took in seemed to be a mix of fatigue and frustration. “Everything’s still in the preliminary stages. Lots of moving pieces. Lots of chaos,” she added in a mutter. “I needed to shower because there was blood on my clothes.”

He remembered her slipping in the water and blood in the breakroom. Her fellow deputies’ blood. He could totally understand Jemma needed to wash that away even though this wouldn’t be a case of out of sight, out of mind. No way was Jemma going to push all of these deaths out of her thoughts.

“Owen arranged for other county units and the Texas Rangers to send out their CSI teams,” Jemma went on as they made their way down the stairs. “There’s a team at each of the crime scenes, and they’re collecting evidence now. They might find something.”

Hayes had to believe they would. Multiple crime scenes meant multiple chances of a killer leaving something incriminating behind.

They threaded their way down the narrow, winding stairs to the bottom floor and a reception area where his brother, Declan, was sitting at an absurdly small, ornate wooden desk. He was working on a laptop, but Hayes had no doubts that he was also standing guard. After all, there was a killer at large.

Or maybe,killers.

Declan and he locked gazes for a second, and a whole lot of questions passed between them. Questions that apparently neither could answer because they both shook their heads.

“Jemma,” Declan greeted. “Owen’s finished setting up an office in the dining room.” He tipped his head to his right. “The county sheriff and the Outlaw Ridge mayor are with him.”

Hayes had met both men, but he’d never had any dealings with them. He soon would though. Both could end up being key players in this investigation.

“Owen said as soon as you were back down that he needed to speak with you,” Declan added to Hayes.

Hayes had expected that. He only hoped there’d be enough coffee to go along with the updates, verdicts, and whatever the hell else had happened in the past four hours.

“Is anyone else dead?” Jemma asked Declan, taking the question right out of Hayes’ mind.

Declan shook his head. “Owen wants to keep it that way. He’s putting lots of security in this place, and he’ll want to talk to you about that.”

“Because I’m a target,” she muttered, and her tone let Hayes know she’d likely dealt with her own version of hell while she’d showered and changed out of those bloody clothes.

Declan, who wasn’t much of a sugar coater, didn’t tone anything down now. “Yeah, you are. Probably Hayes, too. Hell, probably anyone linked to the murders is likely a target.”

That’s because they didn’t have a motive for the killer. Without a clear motive, there was no telling who the hell would end up on the receiving end of that assault rifle.

“Did anyone find the black truck?” Hayes pressed. Or more specifically, the driver of the truck.

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