Close To The Edge (Westen #2) (22 page)

“I told you to get rid of her.”

“No, man. She’s cool. By the time she comes down and wakes up, she’ll know…” he whirled and paced again. “She won’t say nothin’.”

“I told you. After this batch, I’m shutting down shop for a while. No loose ends.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Someone was always watching. He’d just bet the cops wanted to know where he was cooking the meth. But he was smart. Smarter than the law. Smarter than Teeny. Hell, he was smarter than the Man. Of course he’d never say that out loud.

“Meet me at the usual place in one hour. Bring half the latest shipment.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be there.”

“And Rusty, make sure no one follows you.”

The warning had him looking over his shoulders again. The man knew he wouldn’t let anyone follow him. He was so good at hiding, he was invisible. But he’d made sure this time. No one was gonna find his cookhouse.

He laughed, the shrill sound hurting his own ears. Yeah, anyone looking here was in for a big surprise.

Chapter Eleven

B
y eleven that morning, Bobby wanted to take all the files and set them on fire, toss in the phone and quite possibly Cleetus, since she felt guilty wanting to throw the injured Ruby onto the pyre.

With a sigh she glanced down at the shiny deputy’s badge Gage had pinned on her chest before leaving on his “tweaker” hunt. She guessed starting a deadly fire wasn’t in her official duties now.

So far she and Cleetus had worked their way through traffic offenses, stolen vehicles and DUI. Drunk driving had several thick files going back to the mid-fifties. Seemed it was a popular past time with the local teens then and now.

They’d also managed to get the assault and battery cases into the computer. Most of these were found under marital problems. Sadly, Ruby had filed them correctly. Why was it men felt the need to take out their frustration on the women they were supposed to protect?

Bobby glanced at the folder on Gage’s desk. She had to admit, in a few of the cases the woman had been the instigator. Stretching her arms over her head, she arched her back to loosen the muscles.

She didn’t understand people. Why did they try to destroy the ones they loved? Didn’t they realize how fragile life was? How unsure the future? One man’s senseless drunk driving and her parents’ lives had ended, the marriage they’d worked so hard to keep together gone, and three daughters left to pick up the pieces.

“You done with that file, Miz Bobby?”

Cleetus looked up from the computer screen he’d slowly begun to master today. The man’s gentle nature, so at odds with his choice of profession, amazed her. It was an oddity that seemed to fit in this small town. She handed him the manila folder. “One more to cross off our list.”

The office phone rang on the dispatcher’s desk. Cleetus started to rise from his spot, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get it, Cleetus. You’re in a groove on that computer.”

“Westen Township’s Sheriff’s office, how may I help you?”

“I need to speak with Gage, right now,” the clipped feminine voice demanded.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff Justice isn’t in right now,” Bobby couldn’t help saying with just a little extra sweetness.

“Look, I’ve been trying to get the bastard on the phone for two weeks. You put him on right now.” The woman’s anger slashed across the phone lines.

Like hell I will.

“The sheriff is currently out of the office, but if you’d like to leave a message, I’ll be sure he gets it.”
When snow falls in July.

The woman growled into the phone and Bobby considered slamming down the receiver. Instead, she patiently counted to ten and waited for the rude woman to make her decision.

“Okay. I’ll leave a message,” the condescending words almost dripped through the phone. “You tell my husband to call me as soon as he gets back. You tell him it’s urgent. You tell him his wife needs him.”

Before she could reply the woman disconnected. Bobby held the receiver a moment, staring at it.

Wife?

Slowly, she replaced the phone into the cradle. She turned to the only source of information she had available. “Cleetus? How many times has Gage been married?”

“That’d be once, ma’am,” he said, not looking up from typing on the keyboard.

She dragged a chair over and sat across the desk from the deputy. “Aren’t they divorced?”

“Yes, ma’am, but the sheriff, he don’t talk about it too much.”

Bobby rested one elbow on the desk and braced her hand in her chin. “Do you know what happened?”

“I don’t think he’d mind you knowin’.” Cleetus stopped his typing and leaned back in the chair. “The sheriff, Gage’s daddy, he was so excited when Gage got married. Said he was finally gonna have some grandbabies. But Gage and his wife only came to visit once. When he left the sheriff was sad as a hound dog on a short leash. Said Gage had married one cold fish. That she wanted to keep her job with DA’s office in Columbus. He doubted there’d ever be babies and Gage was headed for a lot of heartache. The sheriff was right, all right.”

“So? What happened?” she gently prodded.

“One night the sheriff gets a call that Gage was shot and in surgery over in Columbus. When he and I got there Gage was barely hanging on in that ICU. I only went in once to see him. All them tubes and monitors beeping.” Cleetus shuddered. “Made me real nervous. But the sheriff, he never left his son’s side. Not ’till the docs said he was gonna live.

“Funny thing, that wife, Moira,” Cleetus turned hard, angry eyes toward her and Bobby was very glad she wasn’t Moira. “That woman never once came to see Gage or his daddy.”

Oh my, God! What kind of bitch had Gage married? “Never once?”

Cleetus nodded. “Worse. Seems Gage was undercover on a drug case when he was shot. He’d been home a few days earlier and told his wife a big bust was comin’ down. Guess she wanted to be the one to get credit to impress her boss, so she had this PI followin’ Gage. That’s how the drug dealers knew he was a cop and tried to kill him.”

Oh God. No wonder he’d treated her so badly when he found out she was a PI. Poor Gage. Betrayed by the one person in the world who should’ve put his safety above everything else.

Pain struck Bobby as sure as if she’d been the one shot.

***

Gage cursed and slammed his hand against the rusted slats of the nearly dilapidated mobile home in the back corner of the third trailer park in the county’s northeast corner. All morning he’d been chasing the elusive Rusty Davis from one sketchy lead to another, until finally someone remembered he liked to hole up here.

And once he got here. Nothing. No Rusty. No meth lab. Nada. Just a trashed-out trailer a hazmat unit should destroy. With his luck somewhere in this mess was a clue to where Rusty might be, or who his meth dealer was. Which meant he, or one of his men needed, to sift through the trailer’s contents.

He glanced at his watch. Nearly noon. Great. By the time he got back to town the bank’s officers would be at lunch. Time to call in the reinforcements. He flipped open his cell and dialed the station.

“Westen Township’s Sheriff’s office. How may I help you?”

Bobby’s voice, sounding just a little too sweet, sent desire sizzling through him. A rush of relief mixed with it. If she was on the phone, she was safe.

Damn.
What was wrong with him? He’d assumed that once he’d had sex with her, her nearness wouldn’t affect him so much. But it just seemed to get worse, like a growing addiction.

“What are you doing answering the phones?” he asked, a little too harsh.

“Good morning to you, too,” she replied and he just bet she had that sarcastic little grin on her lips. The one that made him want to grab her and kiss it gone.

Oh yeah. He had it bad. He gritted his teeth as he sat in his truck. “Find anything in those files?”

“You’ll be happy to know there have been no kidnappings reported for the past fifty years, however dog custody cases seem to have a special place in the citizens of Westen’s hearts.”

Gage sighed. She was making small talk to give him time to get his temper under control. Smart woman. “Mr. Waddle and Mrs. Turnbridge.”

“Seems those two have an ongoing battle over a Tennessee Blue Tick, whatever that is.”

“It’s a coon hound.”

“A coon hound?”

He smiled at her confusion. “A dog used for hunting raccoons.”

“Ah, I can see the need for this feud for the past thirty years. Wait, can a dog live that long?”

The left side of his mouth twitched into a half grin. “No, the feud isn’t over one particular dog, but breeding rights from the original litter they both owned when they were married.”

“Oh. Sort of like child custody suits. I get it.” There was a pause on the other end. The gears in her quick mind were grinding as she switched tracks. “So want to tell me what had you ready to bite my head off?”

“Sorry. That was just frustration talking.” He pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m out at the Summit Trailer Park, the last known residence of one Rusty Davis.”

“Bad tip, huh?”

“No, there’s plenty of evidence this was his place. In fact, too much. It’s going to take hours to sift through this mess to see if there’s any lead as to where he is or who his supplier might be. That’s why I called.”

“You’re going to be stuck there and want me to go to the bank on my own?”

Even though her voice suggested she was teasing the idea gripped him tight in his mid-section. After last night’s mess at the hotel and Harley’s murder, he didn’t want her going anywhere by herself. No way was he going to let her go in the bank on her own and with no authority. He wanted this investigation official. He wanted some answers. No more secrets.

“What I need is for Cleetus to call in Daniel, Mike and Wes. Tell them I know it’s their day off or not their shift, but we’re going to need everyone’s help to find this guy. They’ll have to meet me here for instructions.” He repeated the address.

“Okay. Got that.”

There was a pause. He could almost see her writing down his every word. “As soon as they’re started here, you and I’ll head for the bank. In the meantime, give Clint a call and see if Teeny has woken yet. I need to find out if she has any idea where Rusty might be hiding.”

“I talked to Emma just a few minutes ago. She said Teeny is still out cold.”

“Damn. I’d hoped for a break somewhere. Maybe she’ll be awake by the time I get back to town.”

“I found something interesting in the files.”

“Really? What?”

“Seems your Dad was curious about Rusty or Rusty made it onto his radar somehow. He had a file on him. Of course Ruby had it hidden in a file marked persons of interest.”

“Dad never mentioned any of this to me.”

“Your dad probably didn’t want to burden you when you first came home. And I imagine it slipped his mind there at the end.”

Her understanding and sympathy brought a lump to his throat. “What did it say?”

“It just has his arrest record. Minor stuff—pot possession—and his military record. Seems Rusty was on the bomb disposal unit while over in the Gulf War. He had an honorable discharge.”

“Damn. I’ll bet he’s the meth cook. With that background he probably knows the chemicals to make it. He could also be our firebug. Okay, tell my deputies to get out here ASAP.”

“Yes, sir. By the way, ham or turkey?”

“Both. Why?” His stomach growled just to emphasize to his brain its barren state.

“Because while you’ve been out gallivanting all over the county, Cleetus and I have been very busy and need some sustenance. I’m going over to the Peaches ‘N Cream to get sandwiches, but didn’t know what you liked.”

Panic gripped his gut. Breathe. Relax. As much as he didn’t want her wandering about town on her own with a killer, an arsonist, and a woman-beater all on the loose, she was probably safe walking across the street to the café in broad daylight. Besides, no one messed with Lorna in her own restaurant.

“Tell you what. You order for both of us and I’ll meet you there as soon as you get those other deputies out here.”

“Your wish is my command, oh Sheriff, sir.” The laughter in her voice wiped out some of his worry. Maybe things weren’t so bad.

***

Things were spiraling out of control.

It all started when Harley saw the sheriff haul the woman out of the bank’s trash. The little worm had balked at the first sign of trouble and had to be dealt with. He’d worked very hard to stage it as an accident and it should’ve taken the sheriff weeks to find Harley’s body, not days.

The barn fire should’ve spread and consumed most of the Turnbill farm like a brushfire, so it could be swallowed up in another foreclosure, only it hadn’t. Deke Reynolds had called in the arson investigator, so now he couldn’t approach Turnbill with a buyout without raising suspicions. He needed all the farmland attached to the original property. The property his ancestors had been forced to sell.

To top it off the meth shipments were due in Columbus and Cincinnati at the end of the week. His partners paid half up front. He’d used the money to finance the land scheme and to buy the supplies his cook needed to make the product. With the last two pieces of property almost within his reach maybe it was time to tie up all the loose ends. The cook, Rusty, wouldn’t be a problem any longer. Soon, neither would the tweaker girlfriend. Hell, it was time to close production after this shipment and retire from the drug business.

Problem was, you didn’t mess with his partners. If he couldn’t deliver he was dead. Literally. Maybe, if he planned it right, he could convince his partners to look for a source elsewhere, and still finish acquiring the land this town stole from his family.

To top things off, that damn woman from out of town was snooping though files over at the sheriff’s.

He took out a handkerchief and wiped at the sweat dripping down his neck. He sat tapping his fingers one at a time on the top of his desk and stared out across Westen’s main street at the sheriff’s office.