Close To The Edge (Westen #2) (10 page)

His anger simmering on a low boil, he’d just left the café when he saw the little brunette exit the bank. Instead of feeling some relief at finding her—the fact that he’d worried about her in the first place wasn’t something he wanted to think about anyway—his temper soared and he simply wanted to shake some sense into the woman. He’d settled for scaring her once again. He had to admit it was fun to watch her jump and see that startled, wide-eyed deer look she gave him. The blush that filled her cheeks and her offended tone when she scolded him only added to the fun.

Now here she sat next to his desk looking all sassy and asking him what he wanted with her.

“What I’d like, Bobby…” he leaned forward and set both his elbows on his desk, folding his fingers together like a church steeple just like he’d seen his father do a hundred times before when questioning someone, “is for you to fill me in on this case of yours. I’d also like you to explain to me what you were doing in the bank this morning, instead of meeting me here.”

She stared straight at him. Didn’t blink or hesitate one second. “Why Sheriff, I was simply opening a checking account.”

He opened his desk drawer and took out his ace card. “I’m not in the mood for twenty questions, today. So let’s just cut to the chase.”

He watched her face as he unfolded the letter. She inhaled a little deeper, the smile on her lips fading just a hint. Oh yeah, she hid her tell well, but not completely. “What I don’t get is why you sent this letter to my office stating you had a case to discuss with me, instead of just sending one to the bank?”

Now he had her and she knew it. The game had ended and he’d won.

Her smile disappeared completely. Her eyes widened then narrowed. “You knew I was a private detective yesterday?”

What was she getting her panties in a twist about? He wasn’t the one lying. “I’d like some answers about your case and what it has to do with Westen’s bank.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she swallowed several times. “When you were frisking me, and cuffing me, and treating me like a criminal, and locking me up in that minuscule jail cell,” she propped both her elbows on his desk and leaned closer, “all that time you
knew
I was a detective?”

Before he could defend his actions, the back hall door opened and Jason Clarke, the youngest of his eight deputies entered. He stopped in the doorway and looked from Bobby to Gage, his eyebrows lifted in question. “Sheriff, I hate to interrupt…”

“What is it, Jason?” Gage continued to return Bobby’s glare for a moment before pushing back in his seat to focus on his deputy, who’d stopped mid-sentence and smiled at Bobby with interest. For some reason the look on the younger man’s face irritated him. “And why aren’t you home sleeping after class?”

Jason blinked then focused back on him. “Oh, yeah. I’m headed home in a second, but I forgot to give you a message from Chief Reynolds when I finished my shift this morning.” He hurried to his desk, rifled through some papers. He returned with a sticky note in his hand. “He said there was something suspicious about yesterday’s fire and he wants to meet you out at the crime scene. Says he’ll be there most of the morning.”

Gage took the note from Jason, recognized Deke’s phone number on it. He glanced at the clock. Nearly eleven. Great. He wanted to get some concrete information out of Bobby about her supposed case, but no matter what the little detective was mixed up in, no way could it take priority over Deke’s fire investigation.

He fixed Bobby with his gaze and dialed Deke’s number.

“’Bout time you called, Gunslinger,” Deke muttered in way of greeting.

“I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

“I wanted to keep this between the two of us, but I tried your home and cell phone with no answer.”

He glanced at the corner of his desk where his cell phone lay in its charger. His gaze met Bobby’s across his desk. “Yeah, I didn’t have my charger last night.”

“Oh? What was her name?” Deke’s deep chuckle rumbled over the phone.

“Don’t worry, she’s not your type.” A week ago he wouldn’t have said a schoolteacher was his type, either. Something stirred in Gage’s gut. As close a friend as Deke was, he didn’t want to discuss his serious case of the hots for Bobby with him. Certainly not with her watching him with those big brown eyes. Time to change the subject. “Jason said you had information about yesterday’s fire? Yesterday you said it wasn’t a meth lab.”

“It wasn’t. And it wasn’t some kids fooling around with weed like we thought, either.”

Gage sat straight up in his chair. “You’re sure?” Stupid question. Of course he was sure. It was Deke’s job to investigate fires, and Deke was very good at it. If he said it wasn’t an accident, then he meant just that.

“Why don’t you drive out here and I’ll show you.”

Damn. As much as he wanted to interrogate Bobby and get to the bottom of her reason for being in Westen, arson took precedence. “I can be there in fifteen minutes, as soon as I get Cleetus back in the office.”

Deke agreed to wait for him and disconnected. Gage set the phone back in the receiver.

Bobby relaxed. The interrogation was over. If Gage was going out to that fire scene she’d be free to drive over to the county seat in Newark and check on any property claims made by the bank. She’d be free of his scrutiny and his physical presence, which she had to admit reminded her much too clearly of how he'd held her and kissed her last night.

She uncrossed her legs, picked up her bag and stood. “Seems your duty calls, so I’ll just be on my way.”

“Sit.”

She sat, but only because the narrow jail cell was visible through the room’s back door.

He went to the station’s dispatch microphone and clicked it on. “Cleetus? Where are you? Come in?”

“I’m over on Portis Street, Sheriff. Over.”

“Good. I need you back here for a while.”

“Yes, sir. I’m 10-19 to the station.”

“Cleetus. It’s not an emergency, no sirens.”

“Roger, Sheriff.”

Gage’s lips lifted in a small grin and he shook his head. He leaned one hip onto the desk, his arms folded over his chest and turned his attention on her once more, his momentary humor at his deputy apparently over . “We aren’t finished with this conversation.”

She hadn’t doubted it for a moment. The man went after information like a pointer after a duck. He wouldn’t stop until he’d gotten the answers he wanted. She just needed some time to find her own facts then decide how much she wanted him to know. If he took over her investigation, Chloe would have no reason to keep her on the case. And she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

“What is this case you’re working on?”

Not a question, a demand. Oh crap, it probably was time to bring him in on the problem. “Did you know a Mr. Gilbert Byrd?”

Gage blinked. “Dad knew him. He’s been dead about six months now. Why?”

“His will is going to probate and I’m investigating the bank’s claim of a lien against the property.”

“That’s all? You could’ve found out all you needed to know by talking to Harley Evans over at the bank. No need to climb into the trash.”

His ridicule at her first foray into investigating irritated her. Besides, despite what he thought, he didn’t know everything. “There’s a bit more to it than that.”

“Okay. We’ll talk when I get back.”

“I’m free to go?” She reached for her purse.

“Actually, I’d like you to stay here until I get back.”

The cell was still visible just over his left shoulder. She put her bag back on the floor. “You can’t force me to stay.”

He shoved his hands through his short hair, the sunlight filtering in through the blinds picking up the glints of red scattered amongst the blonde. If he weren’t so infuriating she’d probably offer to climb on his desk and beg him to fulfill every one of her fantasies.

“You’re right. I can’t force you to stay. It was a request, not an order.”

It was her turn to blink. What? He was agreeing with her?

“I’d like to find out more about this case you’re investigating. I’ve been back in town not quite a year, but I’m sure I can help you get whatever information you need.” He stalked over to his desk, grabbed his keys, shoved his baseball hat on his head once more and picked up his sunglasses. “I don’t have time to argue with you. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d really like you to wait here until I get back.”

He sounded sincere.

She narrowed her eyes and hesitated a moment. This had to be a trick. He hadn’t been nice to her from the minute he’d learned her name. “How long will this take? I do have things to do today.”

“I should be back within the hour.”

He flashed her a grin, the same one he’d given her when she landed in his arms. It was the kind of grin she’d seen daily in her classroom. The kind of grin that the class charmer always gave her when he turned in his late homework.

“I’ll buy you lunch when I get back.”

“Ah, a bribe.” Should’ve seen that coming. The charmer always followed his request with a bribe. She sat back in the wooden chair. She’d always been a sucker for the class charmer, but she’d let him know she had limits. “In that case, I’ll give you one hour. After that, I’m free to go about my own business.”

His countenance sobered and for a moment he simply stared at her. Would he renege on his request and lock her up again? She licked her lips in nervous agitation.

Something must’ve convinced him she meant to keep her word, because he nodded and slipped his sunglasses back in place. “It’s a deal. Just keep Cleetus out of trouble while I’m gone.”

As he opened the front door, she hurried after him. “What am I supposed to do with him while I wait for you?”

He stuck his head back in the door and glanced around the room at all the half-opened drawers and manila folders sticking out at odd angles. “You might try filing.” Then he disappeared out the door.

“Filing?” She glanced around. He couldn’t be serious? He wanted her to spend the hour trying to straighten up his filing system? She didn’t even live in this town, much less work for the man.

“I’m not going through this mess he made,” she muttered as she stared at the disaster. Besides, yesterday she learned it was difficult to make sense of Ruby’s filing system and only God knew what kind of information the woman had hidden in what folder over the years.

Wait. Perhaps this wouldn’t be a waste of time after all.

Bobby looked around her once more. She picked up a pile of folders, carried them to the computer desk and sat down in the seat. She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows. No one knew what facts Ruby had stashed in her bizarre filing system. Maybe even some reference to the Byrd property.

Shoving Bobby out of his mind, Gage focused on his brief conversation with Deke as he drove his dad’s old truck up to the fire scene at the MacPherson’s abandoned place once more. Deke wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. His attention to details and ability to ferret out the facts in a case was ingrained as if by some magical DNA code. Gage’s own internal alarm gauges hit the warning level. If Deke wanted to show him something out here, it couldn’t be good. And in fireman’s terms, that meant arson.

But who’d want to torch a dilapidated barn on equally neglected and abandoned farmland? The place had sat empty since he took over the sheriff position from Dad six months ago and as far as he knew it had been empty the six months before that when he’d returned to Westen to recuperate.

He parked the Ford by where Deke stood leaning against the hood of his own pickup. A second pickup sat parked next to it. “So what’s up?” he asked his friend as he hopped out and walked around the vehicle.

“Arson.”

Damn
. He knew it. “Any clue as to why?”

Deke rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that I can figure out. That’s why I called you. Let me show you what I found and you see if you can come up with one.”

They walked past the dead grass and scorched earth surrounding the barn’s charred remains. The fire teams had pulled the more dangerous pieces down and away from the structure to hopefully prevent any curiosity seekers from getting injured by falling debris. Now the black, roofless shell resembled a building he’d seen in old World War II photos his Dad had taken while serving in the army in Germany. The campfire smell still emanated from the burnt wood.

“Watch your step,” Deke warned as they stepped through what used to be the barn’s door.

Here the wood seemed blistered and not burned completely through, but as they moved further into the charred remains, the wood was blackened like charcoal. Near the back of the barn, the damage appeared to be the worst. A metal sign, which once advertised the local farmers’ favorite chewing tobacco, lay on the ground, twisted and blistered from the fire’s intensity.

A man stood among the debris. It was Mike Feeney, the county arson investigator. Gage had met him once before, about six months earlier, just as his Dad had gone into the hospital for the last time and he’d assumed the position of sheriff in his stead.

“Gage.”

“Mike.”

They shook hands.

“So, Deke called you, too?” Gage studied the other man’s serious countenance.

“We’ve been out here since first light sorting through this mess. At first Deke was sure it was a case of kids getting carried away and causing an accidental fire.”

Gage nodded. “That’s what I figured, too, based on the beer cans, tire tracks and leftover doobies scattered around outside.”

“Except the fire didn’t start out there.” Mike dug his knife into the charred wood, pulled off a piece and held it to his nose. “The accelerant was gasoline.”

He passed the piece to Gage who sniffed and could still smell the faint pungent smell of gas.

“And this,” Mike lifted a wad of fused plastic and metal wires from the pile of wood, “is a delayed timer. This was a planned fire.”

“So someone wanted to set this place off. Why? As far as I know this place has been abandoned for more than a year.”

“I checked with the bank this morning while I waited for you to return my call,” Deke said. “Seems this property went into default two years ago, so I doubt it was arson for profit.”