Page 9 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
He brought up Marty Bonetti’s section of the case file. The notes were brief but methodical, classic Marty, from what Ryker remembered. Honest, detailed, and written with more heart than most cops would ever admit to putting on paper.
Beneath the second report, a new profile appeared.
“Here we go,” Ryker said. “Ethan’s family members are listed. Parents deceased. One sibling, Charlotte Ross.”
Emma stepped forward, her posture tightening. “She moved away a few years before Ethan disappeared,” she said. “After their parents died, she cut ties with Outlaw Ridge and started over in New Mexico. Last I heard, she was doing social work in Santa Fe.”
Ryker read the notes aloud. “‘Adored her brother. Protective. Described him as misunderstood. Didn’t believe he vanished on his own.’”
Emma blew out a long breath. “She thought I was lying. About the fight. About everything. She made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with me after he disappeared.”
“Think she’d want revenge?” Ryker asked, watching her closely. “Enough to stage something this elaborate?”
Emma shook her head. “No idea. She was grieving and angry. But this?” She looked back at the photo of the mask. “This is next-level hate.”
Ryker nodded, tapping a few more controls to pull up contact records. “Well, if she didn’t do it,” he said, “maybe she knows who would.”
He was just about to dig deeper into Charlotte Ross’s employment history when his phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He checked the screen and saw the name. Deputy Hayes Brodie.
Former Strike Force. Solid cop. Even steadier friend. And one of those handful of people that he trusted with his life.
Ryker answered with a clipped, “Yeah?” And he put the call on speaker.
Hayes didn’t bother with a greeting. “We got called out to a scene just outside of Rustwood Road, near the oil field. Someone reported a body under a tarp. I think this is something you and Bonetti are gonna want to see.”
Ryker’s pulse kicked up a notch. “Let me guess. Another mannequin? Mask of Ethan Ross? An over-the-top threatening message meant for Emma?”
There was a pause. Then Hayes’s voice dropped, the usual edge of sarcasm stripped out. “No, Ryker. This one’s real. It’s a body. And he’s very much dead.”
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Chapter Three
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Emma felt the air punch out of her lungs at the words,a real body.
Not a mannequin. Not a sick prank.
An image hit her fast and sharp. Ethan, pale and lifeless, sprawled in the dirt with dried blood at his temple. Her chest tightened, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and dread.
“Hayes,” Emma said, leaning in, “do you have an ID on the victim?”
“No,” he was quick to answer. “The guy’s face is covered. Mask. Looks just like Ethan Ross. But the mask… something’s off. There’s a little bulk to it underneath. Might be rigged.”
Ryker cursed. “You think it’s wired?”
“Could be,” Hayes said. “Could be nothing. But I’m not about to lift it and find out. I called the bomb squad just in case. But I figured you two would want to see this for yourselves.”
Emma’s stomach turned, a surge of emotion slamming into her all at once, grief she’d buried years ago, guilt that wasn’t hers, and a rising fury with nowhere to land. Her jaw clenched. Her spine stiffened.
She didn’t love Ethan. Not anymore. That part of her had died the night he walked out. But the thought of him beingmurdered… or worse, of him murdering someone else for this sick game, it twisted something deep inside her anyway.
“We’re on our way,” Ryker said, and ended the call.
Emma didn’t speak. She turned, grabbed her coat from the back of the chair, shoved her arms into the sleeves like she was suiting up for war.
Ryker was right behind her, already zipping his jacket. He looked at her once before they left the room, his expression unreadable.
