Maverick (Book 2 ~ Tin Star K9 Series) by Jodi Burnett

Author:Jodi Burnett [Burnett, Jodi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781955016049
Publisher: SDG Publishing
Published: 2021-09-01T23:00:00+00:00

11

Colt ran to his Jeep. Caitlyn and Renegade were right behind him, running to her truck. Before he hit the street, Colt flipped on his lights and siren. He couldn’t believe someone fired shots in the hotel—in Moose Creek. Turning left on Gold Street, Colt pressed the gas pedal to the floor—his pulse increasing with his speed. He arrived before the fire truck and pulled up next to a group of ten or more people crowded by the front door. Caitlyn squealed to a stop behind him. They jumped from their vehicles, leaving their flashing lights on, and pushed their way through the crowd into the lobby.

“Make way, please. Sheriff coming through.” Some of the faces looking to him he recognized, but others he figured were hotel guests.

Caitlyn’s voice echoed inside the lobby behind him. “Did anyone see what happened here?”

A deluge of answers sounded all at once—one shouting over the other. Colt left Caitlyn to deal with the witnesses and move everyone outside. He unsnapped the safety strap on his holster and gripped his gun, focusing on locating the shooter and any potential victims. In the hallway leading to offices behind the front desk, a woman in a housekeeping uniform held a hand over her mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and with a trembling finger, she pointed down the hall.

“It’s Ben, Sheriff. He… He shot himself.” The woman broke into sobs.

With his free hand, Colt gripped her shoulder in comfort. He nodded to her before making his way down the hallway. He didn’t think there was any danger, but whenever another firearm was in play, it was better to be safe. The manager’s office door stood open on the left side of the hall. Light spilled out of the room onto the carpet. Colt took a breath and steeled himself for the horror of what he might see around the corner.

Holding his gun in firing position, he peered around the door frame and froze at the threshold. Ben Fisher sat on the floor next to his desk, propped up against the wall. He was unrecognizable except for the name tag pinned to his chest. Blood, bone, and brain matter splattered the walls. Ben’s arms splayed out to his sides—a large pistol in the grip of his right hand.

“Oh, Ben. Why?” Colt murmured, swallowing back the acidic bile that threatened to erupt from his throat. The salty-copper scent of blood mixed with an unrecognizable, musky-sweet odor had his stomach fisting into a roiling ball.

Colt holstered his weapon, and careful not to touch anything that might possibly be evidence, he made his way to the lifeless, mostly headless body. He clamped his jaw tight and reached to feel for a pulse on the sticky, bloody neck. It came as no surprise that there was none.

A male voice asked, “What do we have here?”

Colt startled at the sudden appearance of the paramedics. He stood and turned, holding up his hands to stop them. “Looks like a suicide. The man is dead. No need for you to come in and risk contaminating the crime scene.

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