Outlaw Ridge: Declan (Hard Justice: Outlaw Ridge #4)

Chapter One

It was like walking into a house of horrors. A real one, complete with a beady-eyed rat scurrying around on the grimy, splintered wood floor. There were sticky white cobwebs, the stench of decay.

And the skeletons.

Yeah, actual skeletons.

Deputy Declan Brodie stared at the mangled heap of bones spilling out from the partially demolished hole in the wall. There was a rat here, too, darting in and out of sight with his whiskers twitching. And there were more cobwebs and stench. But the bones were the main attraction.

Skeletal remains .

Declan knew that was the sterile term for what he was looking at, but there was nothing sterile about the emotions jackhammering through him. He could see two skulls, both sporting holes from what he was guessing were gunshot wounds.

The resident rats sure as heck hadn’t done that kind of damage, and the living, breathing owners of those bones likely hadn’t gotten in that wall by themselves. So, that meant this was a crime scene and the start of a murder investigation.

But who were they? And how long had they been there?

While he gave that some thought, Declan swiped his forehead with the back of his hand and felt the trickle of sweat crawl down his neck. The sauna-level heat only added to the overall misery of the place.

Hotter than hell.

But then it was August in Texas, so sky-high heat levels were the norm. The temps though wouldn’t make this job easy for anyone, including the sheriff, CSIs, and a forensic specialist who were apparently on their way.

“On the way” in this case would mean driving a couple of miles outside of town, and there wasn’t another house anywhere in sight. Clearly, the person who’d built the place had valued privacy. Valued space, too, because the house had to be at least four thousand square feet.

This wasn’t Declan’s first time to be here. Nope. As a teenager, he’d come here for a visit. Back then, this creepy place held the lofty title of the Satan Shack, and it’d been just as creepy. Still, it’d become a make-out and a “dare you to go in” spot despite the possibility of ghosts, Satan, and, yeah, even the rats.

Had those skeletons been there even back then?

Maybe. And that definitely wasn’t a comforting thought. After all, he’d had that make-out session close to this very spot.

“Please tell me those are Halloween props,” the man standing behind him grumbled.

He was Clayton Bishop, the contractor for what was supposed to be a full-scale remodel of the old Victorian house that had sat empty for over 20 years. Clayton was also the person who’d called 911 when he’d bashed through the wall that he’d been in the process of demolishing and the bones had tumbled out.

Declan didn’t bother to sugarcoat his answer to Clayton’s hope-filled comment. “No.”

Unfortunately, as former military special ops, Declan had seen more than his share of corpses and remains. These were human, and judging from the fact that everything except the bones had either rotted away or been gnawed off, the two had been here for a while.

Years.

Maybe even decades. Maybe even while the sprawling house had still been occupied. That was something that Declan and the rest of his fellow cops at Outlaw Ridge PD would soon be investigating.

At the sound of footsteps, Declan glanced over his shoulder and saw his brother, Deputy Shaw Brodie, coming into what had likely been a parlor or some other fancy room during its Victorian heyday. Even though they weren’t twins, Shaw and he had enough shared gene pool that people often got them mixed up. Black hair, gray eyes, and that Brodie olive skin that was a genetic contribution from their Comanche great-grandmother.

Declan and his brother had pretty much had the same career paths, too. Stints in the military, followed by their time as operatives for the elite private security company, Strike Force. And now they were both Outlaw Ridge deputies, positions that had started out as temporary but were turning into something more permanent since they’d both had a badge for going on five months now.

With his attention pinned to the bones, Shaw made his way closer, stopping right next to him and the contractor.

“Declan thinks the bones are real,” Clayton grumbled.

“They are,” Shaw confirmed, leaning in to get a better look. “Clothes are either gone or disintegrated,” he added. “Can’t see their feet to know if they were wearing shoes.”

Declan made a sound of agreement. “The rest of the wall will have to be moved for that, and there’s no telling when that will be.”

“Soon,” Shaw said, checking the time. “Uh, the CSI team and a forensic anthropologist are on the way here with Owen,” he added, referring to Sheriff Owen Striker, their boss at Outlaw Ridge PD and also when they’d worked for him at Strike Force.

Declan didn’t miss his brother’s “uh” of hesitation, and he looked at Shaw to see what was up. But Clayton spoke again before Declan or Shaw could say anything.

“It won’t take much to get the rest of this portion of the wall down. It’s one of those slapped-up DIY jobs, basically covering up what I suspect was once the opening of a closet or some kind of a small recessed area. But I’m guessing this will shut down the reno,” Clayton muttered, his tone reaching somewhere between a fret and a whine.

“Yeah, it will,” Declan assured him, and he stared at his brother, waiting for an explanation of that earlier uh .

Clayton cursed under his breath. “The owner’s not gonna like that. She was expecting to move in before Christmas. Better go tell the electricians and the crew working upstairs,” he added in a mutter, and he headed in that direction.

Declan didn’t respond to Clayton and kept up the hard look that he had fixed on Shaw.

Shaw huffed. Not a good sign. “The dead bone doc is Cully.”

Everything inside Declan went into a tight, hard knot. Because he didn’t have to ask for any clarification as to who that was.

Cully O’Banion.

Once, she’d been his wife. For a couple of weeks anyway.

Weeks before a hell of a lot of other stuff had gotten in the way and spurred them to get a divorce. That’d been eighteen years and four months ago when Declan and she had been just shy of their twentieth birthdays. Not old enough to buy a beer but they could legally take life-altering vows.

And they had indeed been life-altering.

Along with being a big-assed mistake.

Cully and he had broken a whole lot of relationship rules with those hasty “I do’s.” They’d been too young, for one, combined with the additional minuses of no money and them struggling through their first year of college.

And the cherry on top of that cake of those mistakes?

Both of them had still been nursing crushed teenage hearts. His caused by her best friend and hers caused by his when the pair had eloped, leaving Cully and Declan voicemails that basically touted: We’re breaking up with you and getting married.

Misery had oh-so-loved company after hearing their friends go on in those voicemails about not being able to stop themselves from falling in love with each other. And once the dual heart-crushing had had a little time to sink in, it had landed Cully and him in bed.

Or rather the seat of his truck.

That, in turn, had sent Cully and him running to the Justice of the Peace. The only thing faster than that run had been when Cully had gone to a lawyer to start the quickie divorce.

“You’ll be okay about working with Cully?” Shaw asked.

Declan answered with a scowl, the only response he intended, and he turned his attention back to the bones.

So did Shaw. “Who do you think they are?” his brother asked, obviously seeing fit to change the subject.

Declan didn’t have time to reply because he heard footsteps and the sound of a familiar voice.

“He knows you’re bringing me?” Cully asked.

“He knows,” Owen assured her. “Shaw would have told him.”

Since Cully and Owen were no doubt talking about him, Declan steeled himself up and turned to face his boss and his ex. But clearly there wasn’t enough steeling up in the whole state of Texas since he still got that flash of a whole bunch of emotions.

Including old-fashioned, nasty lust.

The kind that just wouldn’t cool down or go away. It’d been that way since tenth grade at Outlaw Ridge High School. He’d dived right into a relationship with the brainy, cute cheerleader, Jessica Logan, and then he’d met her bestie.

Cully.

Being the decent guy that he was even back then, Declan had stayed true to Jessica, and Cully had done the same with Brandon Ruis, her hotshot quarterback guy who’d become Declan’s best friend. That whole friendship, hands off had stayed in place through high school and until Jessica and Brandon’s surprise elopement less than a year after graduation.

It’s been nearly six years now since Declan had last seen Cully when they’d crossed paths on one of his Strike Force missions. That one, too, had involved bones and the burial ground of a serial killer. Cully had done her job. He’d done his. They’d caught the sick bastard killer, and Cully and he had then parted ways. Declan expected they’d do the same here.

But first, he had to deal with the gut punch and the lust.

Cully wasn’t wearing a bunny suit, the protective garb that the forensic team members donned for a crime scene, but instead she had on jeans that fit her oh-so-well, sandals, and a sleeveless top the color of peaches. She definitely didn’t look in the work mode.

“Declan,” she greeted, using her index finger to tuck a strand of her short blonde hair behind her ear.

“Cully,” he answered.

She looked at his brother. And smiled. Nothing put-on either. It was the real deal that lit up her face.

“Shaw,” she said, and she went to him and brushed a kiss on his cheek.

That cheek kiss didn’t surprise Declan. Cully had always gotten along with all three of his brothers. Shaw, Aiden, and Hayes.

“It’s good to see you,” Shaw replied but then he shrugged. “Well, good-ish anyway. Wish it were under different circumstances.”

She made a sound of agreement, and her gaze met Declan’s. He had no trouble whatsoever seeing the nerves and, yeah, the lust as well, in the depths of her cool green eyes.

Their gazes stayed locked for a couple of moments, and many things passed between. The heat followed by all the reasons why they weren’t a couple any longer. Life could sure be a pisser sometimes, and it’d given them both some hard kicks in the teeth.

“You got here fast,” Declan remarked.

Cully nodded, re-tucked that same strand of hair that needed no such attention. “I was visiting Owen at the police station when he got the call. He asked me to come over with him and have a look.”

Declan wondered what that visit with Owen was all about. Maybe another Strike Force mission since Cully was his go-to for situations involving remains. Still, the timing was on the eerie side.

She cleared her throat, tore her attention from him and walked closer to the remains. Owen went closer, too, but he stopped next to Declan.

“If working with Cully will cause problems for you, I can assign another deputy,” Owen offered.

Declan would have shared dinner with one of those rats before he’d admit there was a job he couldn’t do. “It’s fine,” he assured Owen.

It wasn’t. Owen knew it. Declan knew it. So did Shaw and Cully, but the job would get done.

Cully obviously had that same mind set because she clicked on her phone flashlight and used it to peer inside the wall. While she did her thing, Declan used his own phone to go ahead and pull up a history of the Satan Shack.

“The place has been abandoned for twenty-two years,” Declan provided once he’d accessed Sentry, the mega joint database that Owen had set up for the police department and Strike Force. It was like having instant access to pretty much anything about pretty much anybody.

“When the original owner, Thaddeus Kincaid, died in 1990 without a will, his heirs squabbled over it,” Declan continued. “His nephew, Noah, eventually got the place, but he went missing twenty-two years ago, it’s been empty ever since. The county ended up confiscating the property because taxes hadn’t been paid on it.”

“ Missing ?” Shaw repeated.

Declan nodded. “He disappeared without a trace, but according to police reports, he was in dire financial straits and running from some creditors.” He glanced at the skeletons again. “Maybe one of those could be the missing Noah.”

“Possibly,” Cully agreed. “One is male and the other female. This is just a rough guess, but I’d say they’ve been here at least two decades. It would fit with that timing of twenty-two years being missing.”

So, maybe they’d found Noah Kincade. This was a good starting theory anyway. Noah had possibly been murdered by those creditors he was fleeing. Of course, that didn’t explain the other body so Declan kept reading through the info that Sentry had compiled.

And his reading came to a screeching halt when his attention landed on something.

His head whipped up, and he speared Cully with his gaze. “You bought this place through a county auction?”

“Yes,” she verified, and she only spared him a glance before returning to the bones. “I’m moving back to Outlaw Ridge.”

“To work for me,” Owen provided.

Declan was glad he was too stunned to say anything because had he spoken, it would have involved an f-bomb or two.

“Cully has agreed to be the forensic anthropologist and consultant for both Strike Force and Outlaw Ridge PD,” Owen tacked onto that.

Hell in a big assed handbasket.

A heavy silence fell over the room. One that Shaw finally broke after some uncomfortable, snail-crawling moments.

“Well, welcome home, Cully,” his brother said.

“Thanks. I just accepted the position about an hour ago,” she added, making another of those quick glances at Declan. “I’d planned on telling…”

Cully stopped, and she adjusted her position and the flashlight again. Muttering something that Declan didn’t catch, she went up on her tiptoes, did more maneuvering and muttering.

Before she cursed.

With her eyes wide and her expression grim, Cully snapped toward Owen, Shaw, and him. “We need this whole wall down. Because there are more bodies.”