Shaun waved out the window as he turned his truck around in the front driveway. The officer who had replaced him stood on the front veranda in the dying light, Jess uncomfortable beside him, her arms crossed. He watched her out his rearview as he drove down the laneway, and marveled at how well she had recovered from her initial shock of learning she still had a mother, and that now, both her parents were—

Shit. A normal person would've been a gibbering idiot by now, not planning out how to secure the ranch, making her statement, dealing with the media, and ensuring rifles and ammunition were ready.

He had no doubt she could shoot better than him, the way she handled the long guns they pulled from the gun safe. Safe gun storage was paramount, and Kevin had a cabinet near the side door that latched, and the guns were unloaded, with ammo above them on a shelf. If it came down to it, he would rather easily load rifles that were within reach, rather than ensure laws were followed to the letter in the heat of an emergency. These were people who he could trust to be safe with guns. He'd noted as much in his report back, at least.

She turned just as he reached the gate and strode into the house, and he swallowed the trepidation back, wondering if he was feeling the need to protect her, or that momentary spark of attraction when they were standing by the fence was confusing the two. He wanted to avoid labeling it and giving it life. Now was not the time.

But the truth was, he was intrigued by her. That, and he respected the hell out of her for her ability to refocus herself. She would make a very good cop, he reasoned. She'd also look really good in a uniform.

He adjusted himself in his seat. That was no way to be thinking about her. He had a job to do, not flirt with his protective detail.

He turned onto the highway, and slowed through a checkpoint before town. No sign of the shooter had turned up, and his radio had stayed silent except for the usual chatter. He recognized Stewart and Gordon, and hung an arm out the window as they beamed their flashlight into the car.

"Shaun. Hey, coming back from Crampton's place?" Gordon said, shutting his off, hooking it back onto his belt. "Everything okay out there?"

Shaun nodded. "Yeah. Going to stay out as liaison. Nice family. A real shame. Chief come by at all?"

Gordon shook his head no and grimaced. "I know of them. My sister rides the same circuit. She always says nice things about the daughter there, Jessica, I think? Damned fine rider, according to her."

The picture of Jess in the saddle as they rode back hit Shaun's brain and he quirked a smile. "Yeah, I imagine she is. She's a tough cookie too. I hear updated info on our shooter came through from my report, so you know the details?"

Gordon nodded and stood up, motioning behind him as the headlights of a car shon off his badge. "Shitty. No one needs to hear one of their parents are dead, shot by the other one. Not like that."

"No. Suppose not," was all Shaun could say. Shitty was an understatement.

Gordon waved the car behind Shaun up, so Shaun moved on, and turned his radio down, the crackle of activity from the checkpoints irritating him. He wanted quiet. He needed to think. Or not think, just process. He also hadn't slept yet and it was starting to get to him.

He turned onto his street just before nine. He looked at the small, square wartime house he rented, the shutters flaking white paint, the overgrown bush by the front porch, the lawn brown and dead, awaiting winter. He instantly missed home. The horses, the farmhouse, the creak of the floors and the smell of leather and hay had hit him harder than he thought. He sighed and got out, listening for crickets, but hearing the wail and hiss of a cat, then a garbage can topple over.

He threw his keys on the counter as he closed the side door. He'd been here for a few months now, but had few personal touches. Half his stuff was still in boxes stacked on the far side of the living room. He hadn't unpacked yet. He wasn't sure what that meant, but tonight it irritated him.

It wasn't as if his folks were far away, only a few hours, but it felt like he was in another world here. Living in town had never been something he liked, but for the job, it made sense. He loved being a cop, except for having to deal with messes like the factory. Becoming a police officer was always the dream, and here he was. But suddenly, after spending a day outside, on a ranch, something was missing.

He had to just be overtired. He wasn't thinking clearly anymore, and who could blame him? He'd witnessed some big carnage. Likely he and the boys would all be going to mandatory counseling.

He showered, changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and re-clipped his utility belt to his jeans. Then he packed up a change of clothes, a spare uniform, his badge and identifiers, his overnight shower kit, and his bottle of extra strength painkillers.

His legs and back were already complaining at him from the ride and subsequent time in the barn today. He was getting soft. Even the working out he did wasn't enough to keep riding muscles from atrophying, it seemed.

"Alright, King. Get your shit together," he muttered, and folded a pair of long johns, wool socks, and a thermal shirt into his bag for good measure.

-----

Shaun swung by the office on his way back to the Cramptons. He wanted to check in, scan his notes onto the case file drive, and make sure they were in sync.

He walked through the doors expecting it to be crazy, all the statements and people they needed to speak to. He wanted to be part of that, the hum of activity that always followed the start of an investigation. This was a manhunt, so protocol was a bit different, and the search effort command was relocating along the roads and into the farm lands around the factory. In all, he had been given a cushy assignment, guarding the family. He'd catch flack from the guys about that later, he was sure of it. New guy gets the soft canoe, that sort of thing.

It was orderly, a few people sitting with investigators, the phones ringing no more than usual. The air was restless though, and he suddenly did not want to be there. He pulled out his notes and began running them through the scanner, one page at a time, the monotony of the task calming in a weird, rhythmic way.

His thoughts wandered to Jess and her family, and getting back to her. The risk that her mother would come out there, try to see her, maybe even kill Kevin and Gertie pushed at him, making him twitchy as he flipped to the last page. A drawer on a desk slammed and he jumped.

"King. What are you doing here?"

Shaun turned at the sound of his chief, peeking out of the meeting room they had turned into the situation center, the board with the victims a square silhouette through the frosted glass windows. He cataloged the squares, the photos blurred but each a victim of the shooting. He took a deep breath.

"Sir. Wanted to check in, scan my notes, and discuss next moves," he replied, gathering the book, hitting the send button on the scanner. The machine beeped and spit out a page stating the number of files sent to his email. He handed it to his Chief, then stepped into the room. A side-board had a picture of Jess and her aunt and uncle pinned, brief notes attached to them, photos of her mother and father. He turned away from them, focusing back on his chief.

"You should be sleeping, and then going back on duty out at the Crampton's by morning," Vern chastised wearily, throwing the stack of papers he'd had in his hands on the table. "You look beat, son."

"I am. But sleep can come when this is handled," Shaun stated, an edge to his voice surprising even him. "These folks, they don't deserve this. We have to catch her."

Vern nodded. "I know. We've got no new updates yet. It's like she vanished. We're not even sure where to start looking."

Shaun contemplated that, and looked at the map spread out on the table. He ran his finger over the dot that highlighted the ranch, sweeping his eye over to the green area that indicated the crown grassland and foothills behind the property limit of the Cramptons. Jess' mother grew up on this land. She likely knew it better than anyone would think, even if she'd been away for years on end. He looked up, meeting his chief's eye.

"Have you mapped a grid on the Crampton's land that abuts the crown lands yet? She grew up here, Sir, she might just be hiding in that area. She'll know it."

His chief raised his eyebrows and poked his head out the door. "Lewis, Mack, get in here!"

Shaun stepped over to the info board, his eyes drawn to Jess, her driver's license photo. Stern, with no smile, hair looking as if she'd hurriedly taken off a hat for the photo, an inconvenience to get her picture done, when there were more important things to do. He grinned thinking about that, unsurprised. He did not take her for a woman who fussed about appearances.

"Shaun thinks we may want to focus on the land behind the Crampton's, up into the crown lands. Says our shooter grew up there."

Mack looked up and Shaun caught his eye. "Trying to do our job, King?" he ground out, Lewis standing back and folding his arms as his partner went on the defensive.

"I'm just saying, the shooter is Mary Crampton. Kevin and Gertie... The Crampton's, that is, inherited the land from his parents. It stands to reason his sister would have grown up working the land with her family, would know it very well."

"What makes you think we haven't thought of that?" Mack snapped.

Shaun put his hands up. "Just trying to help. Vern said you weren't sure where to start. Don't get your panties twisted. Still your case, Mack."

Lewis walked over to the map and nodded, and Vern grunted an approval. "It is a good idea, King. No harm in being on the same page with the plan, Mack."

Shaun watched Mack bristle at the veiled reprimand. Everyone was exhausted, it seemed. Mack wasn't normally so testy.

"If it doesn't put your noses out of joint, why don't I bring a chart out to the ranch and have Jess and her uncle map out some of the places that they think she might have good cover? They also know that land well."

"Yeah. A good idea," Mack groused.

"I got a look at the back fields, when I rode out to find Jess, there are tons of hills, sloughs, and brush. It would do good to map landmarks and shelter areas."

"We need to come out to interview the family tomorrow. Can we get that from you then?" Lewis asked, defeat in his voice. "Sorry. It's been a long day, and I just want to catch this bitch."

Shaun nodded. "All good, Clint. You know as well as I do that this kind of thing can wear on you. Not every day we deal with—" he stopped before giving words to the atrocity they had seen.

"Yeah."

All four men were silent for a moment, all part of the initial crime scene security, all dealing with the images still very much stuck in their heads. A rural place like this didn't have carnage very often, the most they ever saw was car accidents on the highway, or the odd livestock mauling. This was a whole new level. One that Shaun had hoped to never see.

Shaun pulled his notebook out of his back pocket and flipped it into his hands. It felt heavier now, as if all the notes contained in it were weighted, ominous.

"Can you send those scanned notes to us?" Mack asked as Shaun headed for the door. Shaun nodded and stopped by his desk, flicking open his email and doing a quick forward. He scanned the rest of the unread's, and didn't see anything important so he closed it down again sitting back in his chair and shutting his eyes for a moment. He did not have the patience to read email right now. He wanted to get back out to the ranch. It was pulling him, this odd sense of urgency, and he was exhausted. It made for a weird sensation of frantically swimming through molasses in his head.

"Good work today King. I know you're new here, don't let those two get to you," Vern said as he passed. He stopped and rested a hip on the desk, and Shaun opened his eyes back up reluctantly.

"Not worried, Sir. Been there before," he replied and looked at the man. "You okay? Should I be telling you to get some sleep too?"

Vern barked a laugh off and shook his head. "My office couch is my bed until we have found that woman. I have Feds breathing down my back to take over this investigation so we have to be quick. First twenty-four hours are crucial."

Shaun and Vern shook hands and he dragged himself up and out of the office, back to his truck. He stopped and got a tray of coffee, and turned the nose of his truck back out towards the ranch. It was going to be a long night.