Chapter Eleven

Jemma stood in the shower, hoping for a miracle. A miracle that the hot water and hotel soap would cure the fatigue and the dull throbbing in her head that sleep hadn’t managed to fix.

Of course, her attempt at sleep had been basically a string of cat naps, punctuated by nightmares from hell and times when Jemma had given up and just read reports on her laptop. During those awake times, she thought of Hayes, too. Hard not to think of him when he was in the room right next to her.

With an unlocked door between them.

The unlocking had been something they’d decided on when Owen had ordered them to bed and when they’d realized their rooms were connecting. Most of the security was in place for the inn, but there was still the risk of an attack, and Hayes had said he preferred not having to break down any more doors if something went wrong. She’d agreed, not realizing just how much temptation an unlocked door would be. It had been damn hard for her to resist not going to him when those nightmares had come at her like that.

Images of her fellow deputies. Of their lifeless, bloody bodies. Sounds of the gunshots that had nearly killed Hayes and her. Heck, even grisly images of Cordelia lying dead somewhere.

Or hiding out so she couldn’t be arrested.

Since those images and sounds were still repeating in her mind even now that it was morning, Jemma ducked her entire head under the shower and then cursed when the movement knocked down the bottle of shampoo, and it landed on her toes. That brought on more cursing, along with the water stinging her eyes.

She managed to slide open the shower curtain, and Jemma was blindly reaching for the towel when she heard something. Someone running into the bathroom.

Hell. Had the killer come for her?

That was the first thing that flashed in her mind, and she felt that fresh slam of adrenaline. Jemma skipped the towel and instead reached for her gun that she’d left on the vanity that was only a few feet away from the shower stall. Her hand froze though when the person spoke.

“It’s me,” someone said.

Hayes.

The sound of his voice gave her a different kind of jolt. Worry. A really bad punch of it. She opted for the towel now, coiling it around her as she hurried out of the shower to face him.

And she got a third kind of jolt.

Because he was naked.

Well, mostly. He was wearing only black boxers, but the naked parts of him snagged more of her attention than the underwear.

She instantly noticed a couple of things about him. The man was built. Mercy, was he. And he had a panicked look on his face.

“I heard you cry out in pain,” he blurted.

Because the sight of him was distracting her and clouding her mind, it took her a moment to recall the bottle of shampoo and her now bruised toes.

“Something fell,” she managed to say, tipping her head to the shower.

His breath rushed out, and he lowered his gun to the side of his leg. “Shit,” he ground out. “I thought…well, I thought the worst.”

She probably would have, too, if she’d heard an unusual noise come from his room. Which wouldn’t have been hard to do since the century-old walls clearly weren’t soundproofed.

“I’m okay,” Jemma assured him.

Her breath was gusting just as much as his was, and her body was experiencing a whole different flood of emotions.

Hot ones. Ones filled with that forbidden heat.

She opened her mouth and then realized no words were coming out. Good thing, too. Since she had no idea what she could say. Hayes knew though. He cursed, a single word of profanity. Before he reached out, slid his hand around the back of her neck and snapped her to him.

He knew what to do with his mouth. Because he used it to kiss her.

Not a tentative one, either. Nope. This was a lust-fueled mix of all that scorching heat, finesse, and a whole boatload of need.

That need roared right through her. And it kept roaring when he deepened the kiss and made it French. Mercy, he tasted good, like all her favorite treats and experiences rolled into one.

Like the best sex ever.

Yeah, a potent kiss indeed from a man who fired up every inch of her body and just kept firing when he lowered his hand to her waist and pulled her against him.

Center to center.

The contact was made even better because her towel slipped down enough so that her still-wet breasts slid against his bare chest. The touching and sliding made the heat skyrocket, and the kiss took on an urgency. A fierce need to go well beyond the kiss and into that full-blown sex.

But that didn’t happen.

Hayes suddenly stepped back from her as if she’d scalded him. She had no idea where he’d gotten the willpower to do that, not when it was obvious that his body was primed and ready for a whole lot more. But he did step back. Did curse himself. Then, he cursed again when her phone rang.

“It’s Owen,” Hayes said, glancing at the screen.

That gave her a much needed jolt to shake off the lust-fog. And to straighten her towel. Even though her boss wasn’t FaceTiming her, she didn’t want to talk to him with her breasts bare. She yanked the towel around her and hit answer, putting the call on speaker.

“Hope I didn’t wake you,” Owen greeted. “I tried to call Hayes, but he didn’t answer.”

“Uh, he’s here with me,” Jemma said, and then she quickly added, “We’re both awake.”

Obviously, that wasn’t the best response that she’d ever come up with, but considering she barely had any breath and her body was still revving, it was sadly the best she could do.

Owen didn’t say anything for several nail-biting moments, and Jemma hoped he didn’t have any smidge of ESP or sense what’d just gone on between Hayes and her. She couldn’t imagine their boss being happy about them kissing in the bathroom when there were obviously so many more nonsexual things they should be doing.

“I hope you both got plenty of rest because I need you downstairs,” Owen finally said. “Royce is here, and he said someone tried to kill him by firing shots through the window of his fishing cabin where he was spending the night.”

Jemma’s first reaction was Oh, God , but then she remembered that Royce was a suspect. “You believe that actually happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Owen said after another pause. “But I’m having one of my crime scene guys take a look at the place to see if there are any inconsistencies. It’s a cabin on Outlaw Creek about ten miles outside of town. FYI, Reed’s checking, but with Cordelia missing, she has no known alibi. Duane doesn’t have one, either. Says he was asleep. And Brooks claims he was out looking for his mother.”

All of that could be true. Or not. It was possible that one of them or a henchman they’d hired had fired those shots.

“Anyway, I need Hayes and you to take Royce’s statement while I deal your father,” Owen added.

“My father?” she repeated on a rise of breath. That prompted her to start getting dressed, and Hayes turned away, no doubt to give her some privacy.

“Yeah, I need to question him about Cordelia’s disappearance,” Owen explained. “FYI, there’s still no sign of her, and Brooks is pressing for us to help. He’s called here a couple of times insisting someone has murdered her.”

“Maybe he did it,” Hayes grumbled.

“I’m checking that, too,” Owen said, not at all surprised with Hayes’ suggestion of Brooks’ guilt. “Duane’s coming in for an interview in an hour, so obviously we’ve got our hands full this morning.”

“Hayes and I will be downstairs in five minutes,” Jemma assured him, ending the call.

Hayes didn’t waste any time hurrying to his bedroom, and Jemma dressed as fast as she could, putting on a clean uniform. Fast though didn’t beat Hayes because by the time she raced out of the bathroom, he was already dressed and waiting for her in the hall outside her door. He was also scrolling through something on his phone, a reminder that reports had likely come in while she’d been in the shower.

And kissing Hayes.

Yeah, her body wasn’t going to let her forget that anytime soon.

“Any important updates?” Jemma asked as they made their way toward the stairs.

“DNA confirmation on the body,” he said. “It’s definitely Hailey. Declan’s on the way to notify her next of kin. A cousin,” he clarified. “And Reed will start piecing together Hailey’s last movements before she disappeared.”

That would no doubt be harder to do with her parents out of the picture and the eighteen months of time that had passed. Still, they might get lucky.

Before Hayes and she made it downstairs, Jemma heard the activity going on. Lots of voices and conversations. Outside, there was also some hammering, which let her know that the security people were likely still installing equipment or else repairs were being done on the building from the gunshots.

When they reached the reception area, she immediately spotted her father, and he seemed to be waiting for her. He went straight to her and pulled her into his arms for a hug.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, whispering the question.

“I’m solid,” she lied, easing back to study his expression. As usual, he seemed to be solid, too, but she knew her father rarely looked otherwise.

“I’m about to have a formal chat with Owen Striker,” he let her know. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll tell him, that I have no idea where Cordelia is. Both her new phone and her purse are still in her office at the estate, but her car isn’t there. I didn’t see her leave,” he tacked on to that.

“Do you think she ran because she’s guilty of something?” Jemma came out and asked.

Her father shrugged. “Cordelia can be a private woman, so I don’t always know what’s on her mind.” He paused. “But I don’t think she tried to kill you, and I also don’t believe she killed you mother. If I believed either of those things, I wouldn’t be with her.” His eyes went dark. “And she would be punished,” he added.

Jemma sighed and was about to launch into her spiel about him not taking the law into his own hands, but Owen stepped out from the dining room. He had Royce with him.

A very pissed-off-looking Royce.

Every muscle in the man’s face was tight, and the agitation was coming off him in hot waves. In contrast, Owen looked completely unruffled despite his arm being in that sling. However, Royce’s expression shifted considerably when his attention landed on Jemma.

“This way,” Owen said, motioning for Hayes, her father, and her to follow him.

He led them to the office that had obviously been cleared of the inn’s stuff and had been turned into an interview room. The supply room next to it had been set up the same way.

“I’ll take this one,” Owen instructed, leading her father into the office. “You two can get Royce’s statement there.” He motioned toward the other room.

Royce was quick to go in, quick to sit down in one of the folding chairs that had been positioned on one side of the metal table. Hayes and she took the seats across from him.

“Have you arrested Duane?” Royce snapped. “Because I’m certain he’s the one who tried to kill me.”

Jemma held up her hand in a wait a second gesture, and she turned on the recorder that was already on the table. She stated the time, date, and the names of those present before she repeated the Miranda to Royce. Something that he clearly didn’t appreciate, but if Royce said something to incriminate himself or someone else during the interview, Jemma wanted to make sure it’d be admissible.

“Tell us about the shots someone fired at you,” Jemma was finally able to start.

Royce didn’t look ready to get past his anger over Duane not being arrested, but then he took a steadying breath. “It happened at six this morning.” He checked his watch. “About an hour ago. I was staying the night at my fishing cabin, so I’d be close to Outlaw Ridge if Owen or you needed me for some police work. Anyway, I was still in bed when someone started shooting through my bedroom window.”

Jemma considered that a moment. “Do you often stay at the cabin? And who knew you’d be there?”

“Well, I didn’t keep it a secret that I’d be there,” Royce insisted. “I told Molly and several of the other new deputies where I’d be. Like I said, I wanted to be close to town.”

Yes, she hadn’t missed that last part, but it had sort of given her the creeps. Mainly because Royce was still giving her those looks. The ones to indicate he was interested in pursuing her as a lover. Jemma ignored the looks and continued.

“Before the shots started, had you seen or heard anything suspicious around the cabin?” she asked.

Royce shook his head, sighed. “Nothing. I worked for the cops long enough to know how to be vigilant, and there were no red flags.”

“None other than you were a former dispatcher at a police station where most of the cops and the current dispatcher was murdered,” Hayes pointed out.

That put a scowl on Royce’s face. “Yes, other than that,” he grumbled.

“What about security?” Hayes pressed. “Any camera feed?”

Another shake of his head. “I do have a security system in the cabin but no cameras. That’s not exactly a high crime area.” Then, he must have recalled the events of the past two days. “I mean, it wasn’t until recently. I’ll be having cameras and more security installed later today.”

That seemed wise if he was going to continue to stay there. Of course, if he was the killer, then all of this was simply for show.

“Tell us what happened during the actual shooting?” Jemma continued. “Did you manage to see your attacker?”

“No to that last part,” Royce was quick to say. Then, he paused and shuddered as if recalling all of this was causing some horrific flashbacks. And it likely was if he wasn’t the perpetrator. “I was still asleep when the sound of the gunfire woke me. Three shots came through the large window in my bedroom that overlooks the creek. I had the curtains open. I like to wake up to that view,” he tacked onto that. “And the glass shattered, bits flying all over the room.”

“Were you cut?” Hayes asked.

Royce held up his left arm, and the sleeve of his shirt was rolled back enough for them to see the large bandage there. “There’s another on my back. The EMTs treated it when they arrived.”

Good. There’d be a record of that, and it meant Jemma could maybe see if the injuries were consistent with what Royce had just described.

“After those three shots were fired,” Royce went on, “I scrambled off the bed, grabbed my gun from the nightstand and ducked down on the side of my dresser.” He stopped, closed his eyes for a moment. “More shots came. Five, I think. I stayed down until they stopped, and I got up to try to return fire, but I couldn’t see anyone outside. The person must have run off.”

“Maybe he or she left footprints,” Hayes suggested. “I’m sure the CSIs will look for that and spent shell casings. Also, if the bullets slammed into your cabin or the walls, they should be able to get the angle of the shooter.”

“I hope so,” Royce insisted. “I want this sonofabitch caught.” He leaned closer, his expression intense. “It has to be the same person who shot Owen. The same one who tried to kill the two of you and escaped. What about the dead gunman? Does he connect back to Duane?”

“We’re still looking into that,” Jemma assured him.

No way would she mention that Grady Thorton had no known links to Duane but rather to Brooks.

And that brought her back to their suspects.

None of them had alibis for this latest shooting. Even if they had though, that didn’t rule out one of them using hired help to continue this reign of terror.

“Talk to us about Hailey Trainor,” Jemma continued, going with a change of subject.

Royce gave her a blank look at first. “Oh, the missing hiker. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about her. I didn’t get the call that the county says I did, so I had no idea she was missing.” He paused. “Still, it doesn’t surprise me that people go missing in those woods. It was stupid for her to hike alone. And some of those trails are death traps. A couple of them are right by the bluffs.”

They were indeed, and some of the bluffs were high enough to kill a hiker if they fell from them. Still, that probably wasn’t the cause of Hailey’s death since she’d been found buried. Unfortunately, Jemma couldn’t get into any of that with Royce until the next of kin was notified.

“You’re familiar with those hiking trails?” Hayes asked.

Royce leaned back in his chair and gave a nonchalant shrug. “As familiar as most locals are. My folks used to take me to that park when I was a kid.”

He was right about the familiarity of the place. Even Jemma had been there a time or two. And Cordelia and Brooks certainly had because of the location of her country home.

“Did you ask Duane about those hikers?” Royce pressed. “I mean, those trails are practically on his doorstep.”

“Duane has been interviewed,” she settled for saying.

Royce made a snorting sound. “Bet he lied to save his sorry ass. What about Cordelia? Was she interviewed , too, about the hikers? And about the murders?”

There was venom in the man’s voice. Maybe a general kind of dislike for the woman who was married to a mobster. But Jemma thought she detected something else.

“Is there any reason why you’d think Cordelia or Duane had something to do with the murders?” Jemma came out and asked.

“You mean other than covering their asses?” Royce snapped, but then he throttled back a bit on the anger. “I have two theories. Cordelia’s psycho degenerate son killed those hikers, and she wants to cover his tracks by eliminating a police force who could ID him as the killer and her as his accomplice after the fact.” He paused again. “Or Duane could have killed for her.”

Jemma and Hayes exchanged a glance. A confused one. “Why would Duane kill for Cordelia?”

A slow smile spread over Royce’s mouth. “You mean, you don’t know?” He laughed. “Oh, that means the Rattler probably doesn’t know either.” His smile widened. “Cordelia and Duane are having an affair. It’s been going on for years.”

Jemma had to take a moment to consider that. And to shake off some of the shock. She hadn’t caught a whiff of Cordelia having an extramarital relationship with anyone, especially Duane.

“Do you have any proof about this affair?” she asked Royce.

Royce shrugged again. “A while back I was driving around, trying to settle my mind after a tough day at work. I saw her in her car coming out of the school gates at 0 dark thirty. I can’t think of any other reason for Cordelia to have been there at that hour.”

Neither could Jemma. But it was something she could question Cordelia about once the woman surfaced. And for now, she could ask her father. However, if the affair was true, then it could explain why Duane hated her so much. Not because she was a cop but because of her turbulent relationship with her stepmother.

“Could you excuse us a moment?” Jemma asked, standing. Hayes did the same.

“Can’t wait to hear what the Rattler has to say,” Royce muttered. He was sporting that smug grin again.

Jemma ignored the grin, and Hayes and she stepped out in the hall. Gathering her breath, she was about to tap on the interview room door where Owen and her father would be, but Hayes’ phone rang before she could do that.

“It’s Reed,” he relayed to her, and he moved away from the interview rooms and took the call on speaker.

“We have a problem,” Reed instantly said. “Someone just called in and reported a dead body with a possible gunshot wound to the head.” He paused. “It’s Brooks.”