Page 44 of Outlaw Ridge: Griff
Jesse looked at them both and shook his head. “There’s been a murder.”
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Chapter Ten
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The yellow crime scene tape flapped in the breeze, slicing across the quiet stillness of the town park like a warning.
Griff stood at the edge of the creek bank, his boots rooted in the damp earth, eyes locked on the body laid out in front of them.
Catherine Langston.
She was dressed in a tailored gray suit, the jacket buttoned neatly over her blouse, her heels still on. It was the same outfit, right down to the earrings that she’d had on earlier. Her blond hair had been smoothed into place, her makeup flawless—except for the pale blue tint clinging to her lips and the dark bruising around her neck.
She looked elegant. Composed.
Staged.
Just like Hannah Cole had been fifteen years ago.
Griff felt the gut punch hit hard and low, a twist of anger and something colder—something that cut deeper. He didn’t like Catherine. She was manipulative, calculating, sharp enough to gut a man with words alone. But this? This was an execution.
No.
This wastheatrical.
Someone had placed her here with intent. Not just to kill. But to send a message.
He scanned the scene. The shallow curve of the creek, the slight dip in the ground, the bench that had been there back then and still stood now, aged but steady. He’d read the case file. He knew the details. This was Hannah’s crime scene down to the inch.
And now it had been recreated.
“Shit,” he muttered.
Beside him, Lily stood in tense silence, her arms crossed tightly, gaze locked on Catherine’s lifeless form. Neither of them said it aloud. They didn’t need to. This wasn’t just about the past anymore.
It was happening again.
“You think this is a message?” she asked. “A warning for us… or the killer telling us they’re still out there?”
Griff didn’t answer right away. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to pull clarity from the churn of thoughts racing through his head. The air smelled like wet earth and decay, the way it always did near water, but it felt colder now. Sharper. Meaner.
“It could be both,” he said finally. “Or neither.”
She shot him a look, then he shifted his gaze back to Catherine’s body, that unnatural stillness surrounded by chaos. In this case, the chaos was the CSIs, the sheriff, the ME, and the two other deputies who were working the scene.
“We saw her earlier today,” Griff went on. “She said being in business made enemies. And she wasn’t wrong. People like Catherine step on necks to climb ladders. Wouldn’t be hard to believe someone took this opportunity to settle a score. Used the Hannah case as cover.”
He crouched, careful not to cross the perimeter markers or get in the way of the CSIs and ME as he studied the angle of Catherine’s body.
“But whoever did this knew what they were doing. This wasn’t just a killing. It was staging. Intentional. Deliberate.” His jaw tensed. “If itwasn’tthe same killer, then someone out there knowsexactlywhat Hannah’s crime scene looked like.”
And they were using it to send a message of their own.
Griff heard the crunch of approaching footsteps on the gravel path and turned to see Sheriff Hallie McQueen striding toward them, her long coat catching the breeze. She looked like she’d already been through three rounds of hell today, and this just made four.
He and Lily stepped back from the creek bank to meet her.
