Page 42 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
“You know,” Ryker said, voice low, steady, “if you say you’re sorry right now, I’m going to have to kiss you again.”
That earned him the faintest flicker of a smile.
It was barely there, but it was something.
She let out a breath, slow and deep, and nodded. Then, without a word, she turned and made her way toward the car where Janette sat behind the wheel, still gripping the steering wheel like it might offer protection.
Ryker kept his hand near his weapon, eyes still sweeping the trees. He didn’t like how close this was getting. Didn’t like that someone out there was circling Emma like a wolf.
Emma stopped at the driver’s side and leaned in closer to Janette, who lowered the window. “You can’t stay here,” Emma said. “It’s a crime scene now. Responders are on their way.”
Janette gripped the steering wheel tighter, her mouth pulling into a frown. “You’re seriously telling me to leave? What if it’s Ethan? I deserve to know if it’s him or not.”
Emma didn’t flinch. “You’ll be updated when we confirm the ID. But for now, this is a crime scene, and you can’t be here.”
That clipped, firm tone of hers left no room for negotiation, but Janette bristled anyway. Her eyes sparked, her jaw locked.
She muttered something under her breath, then yanked the gearshift into reverse. The tires kicked up dirt as she spun the car around and sped down the drive, tail-lights flashing red through the trees.
Ryker tipped his chin toward the body under the tarp. “You think she had something to do with that?”
Emma’s gaze followed his. “She’s got motive. Still clearly has feelings for Ethan.”
He nodded. “Maybe more than feelings. If Ethan’s alive, someone’s been helping him stay that way. Hiding him. Covering his tracks. Maybe even funding it. We should get back to the station. Dive into her financials. See if she’s been making regular withdrawals or big purchases. Could be she’s been supporting him all this time.”
Emma gave a tight nod. “Yeah. That’s a good angle.”
Ryker glanced back toward the tarp, then to the trees, still too quiet, still too open.
Getting her out of here would accomplish two things: they could dig into Janette’s financials, maybe start chipping away at the wall around Ethan. But more than that,shewouldn’t be standing out in the open like this, one well-placed bullet away from being taken out.
Of course, she was probably thinking the same thing abouthim.
That last text hadn’t just been a threat. It had put a target right between his eyes.
Two more deputies pulled in, their cruiser crunching over the gravel as it eased to a stop behind Hayes and Jesse’s. Callie Brandon and Lexa Mullens. Doors opened, boots hit the ground, and they moved with the quiet efficiency of cops who knew what kind of scene they were walking into.
Now that there was more backup in place, Ryker and Emma headed over to Jesse and Hayes, who stood near the edge of the taped-off perimeter.
“We’re heading back to the station,” Emma said. “We’ve got a lead we want to follow up on.”
Jesse gave them a nod, then reached into his jacket and handed Ryker a sealed evidence bag. “The phone that was near the DB’s feet,” he said. “I figured you’d want to coordinate with the lab. Already tagged and logged.”
Ryker took the bag. The phone inside was dark, the screen in sleep mode now, just a black reflection staring back at him. He couldn’t see the words anymore. But he didn’t have to. They were etched in his head like they’d been carved there:
Emma, he’s next. Soon, you’ll find Ryker’s body beneath one of these tarps.
Want to save him, Emma? All you have to do is die.
Ryker felt his grip tighten slightly around the bag, then forced his hand to ease. He wasn’t going to let those words shake him. But he wasn’t about to forget them either.
“Thanks,” he told Jesse. “I’ll get this to the lab.”
He glanced at Emma, and she gave a nod. They turned, walking together toward their cruiser, two targets maybe, but also two people unwilling to be taken down quietly.
Ryker opened the cruiser door and waited as Emma climbed in beside him. Neither of them said much, just the quiet click of seatbelts, the creak of the gearshift as he put the vehicle into drive, and the low rumble of tires on gravel as they pulled away from the cabin crime scene.
The woods pressed in around them, shadows lingering under bare-limbed trees, the road winding narrow and quiet. They passed the ribbon of yellow tape, deputies now posted at the edge of the property, and turned down the last stretch of gravel before it met the county highway.
