Close To The Edge (Westen #2) (4 page)

Cleetus looked at her, then up to the front room and finally back at her. “Gage said you weren’t to leave here, but he didn’t say you had to stay locked up.”

“I’d still be in the building and you’d be keeping a very close eye on me.” She tried not to act too enthusiastic, but the idea of being out from the enclosed cell really appealed to her. How did prisoners do this on a daily basis for weeks, months, or even years?

Her argument seemed to convince the deputy. He retrieved the key from the front room, and opened the cell door. The clicking of metal against metal had never sounded so good to her. Stepping out of the cell, she took a deep breath.

Funny, it was the same air inside and outside of the cell, but it felt so good to inhale it out in the hallway. She rubbed her arms with both hands to ward off the chill she’d been feeling.

She smiled at the congenial deputy. “Now, show me where those files are and we’ll see if you and I can’t find them before the sheriff returns.”

Twenty minutes later, she understood the deputy’s frustration. She’d gone through the files as best she could. First, she’d gone alphabetically—the most logical way to find something. She’d tried T for tickets and traffic, S for speeding, and even M for moving violations. Nada. Next she’d tried her second organizational choice—by dates. No months, years, or dates listed anywhere. So where had the lady hidden the files?

“I don’t suppose you could call Ruby?” she asked, hating to admit defeat so soon.

Cleetus shook his head. “Doc said she’d be in surgery all afternoon. I don’t think she’ll be able to talk much before tonight.”

Bobby clenched her hands in fists on her hips. “Okay. We just have to try to think about this in another way. Is there any other term you might use to name the tickets when you write them?”

“Fines?”

“Good.” She grabbed the file marked F. Flipping through the files, she found nothing marked
Fines
. “Nope. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of, ma’am.”

“Is there any particular way you mark them? You know, to identify them as tickets to be collected?”

“Well each one has the person’s name, driver’s license number and car tag on them.”

Bobby stared at him, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “You don’t suppose she’d file each separately by their name do you?”

“No ma’am. There must be at least two thousand registered drivers in the town and surrounding area, not to mention out of town drivers just passing through.” Cleetus rubbed his chin a moment. “But I’d say we give more tickets to the people living in our county.”

He slowly grinned. “You don’t suppose she’d file them under county, do you?”

“Who knows? It’s as good a place as any to look.” Bobby grabbed the handle of the C drawer and prayed he was right. There, in a thick file marked COUNTY TICKETS, divided by months and years, were hundreds of tickets. “Voilà! I think you solved the mystery, Cleetus.”

She took the file to the desk, and found the monthly listings. White slips of tickets for the month of May were neatly arranged by date.

Cleetus leaned over the desk. “How will we know where to find the out of town plates?”

“I guess that’s one bridge we’ll have to cross when we get there.”

After she listed all the tickets by date, name and license plate number, she sat back and tried to think like Ruby.

If all the locals were in the “county” file, would the others be under “state”? Not likely. They could’ve been issued to drivers from other states as well. So where would she have put them? What was an out-of-towner? Stranger? No. Foreigner? No, that might be confused with someone from another country.

Out-of-towner. Could it be that simple?

She wiped her hands on her jeans before pulling open the file drawer and flipping to the back.

There it was. Out of Town.

“I found it!”

“I’m glad you did.”

The Sheriff’s deep voice startled her from behind. She jumped and nearly scattered the contents of the file.

“But what I want to know is why you are digging around in my files and what the hell you’re doing out of your cell?”

Chapter Three

G
age couldn’t believe the scene before him. “Cleetus, didn’t I tell you to keep her locked up?”

“Not exactly, Sheriff.” The deputy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You told me to keep Miz Bobby here.”

“And I’m still here,” Bobby said, just a little too chipper for Gage’s liking.

He shot her a silencing glare before focusing on his chief deputy. “Not only have you let her out of her cell, but you let her have access to confidential police records.” Manila folders lay scattered on his desk, the floor and the tops of the open file cabinets. “Apparently,
complete
access.”

Two quick phone calls to the state licensure board on his way back from the fire had confirmed her claim of being a PI and her permit to carry a weapon. His temper cooled, he’d decided after lunch to let Ms. Roberts out of jail and find out why she’d been searching the trash. Now that she’d conned Cleetus into thwarting his orders—and he had no doubt she’d pulled that same cute-but-innocent flirtation act on his deputy she’d tried earlier on him—he had half a mind to lock her back up for the night.

“Uh, Sheriff,” Cleetus maneuvered around the stacks of files on the floor, “Miz Bobby is helpin’ me get together the monthly traffic violation report that Mayor Rawlins said he’d be by to get before the town council meeting tonight.”

Gage inhaled deeply, shoving the air back out in one long rush. With all the bizarre happenings today, he’d completely forgotten about the town council and his monthly crime report. Big crime, like today’s fire, he could summarize without a list to the council, but traffic tickets his deputies issued required documentation of statistics. A task usually completed by Ruby.

“So did you solve the mystery of Ruby’s filing system?” He paused to study the room’s chaos. “Or was it an exercise in futility?”

“Miz Bobby figured it out.” His deputy grinned at the dark-haired woman standing at Gage’s desk where she’d been sitting to make her list.

Gage shoved himself away from the doorframe, stalked to his chair and sank down into the aged leather. Oh man, the seat was still warm from that nice cushy bottom of hers. His anger dissipated once more and he fought the urge to close his eyes and sigh.

“I didn’t do it alone, Cleetus. You were the one who really had the key to where we should look.”

The woman was killing him. Every time she spoke the soft sensuality in each word stoked his body like a lover’s touch.

Cleetus shook his head. “But I wouldn’t have figured it out without you askin’ me the right questions, ma’am.”

Great, the pair had formed a mutual admiration society while he’d been gone. “So you two are telling me you’ve completely figured out how Ruby files things?”

Bobby turned toward him and the smile she’d had for his deputy faded. Gage didn’t know why that disappointed him, but it did.

“Cleetus said Ruby worked here for nearly fifty years. I doubt we even cracked the surface, but we did find the information needed for your report.”

Cleetus lifted a stack of files off his desk. “I’ll get that report typed up as soon as I put these back, Sheriff.”

Gage glanced at the clock. Nearly six. “Cleetus, I’ll put the files away. If you don’t leave now, you won’t make it to the hospital in Columbus to see Ruby before visiting hours are over like I promised.”

The deputy looked around the room. “Are you sure, Sheriff? I mean, you don’t know where any of these belong.”

“I doubt it’s going to make a difference. Neither you or I knew where any of it belonged before you started.” Gage gave a rueful laugh as he shoved himself out of his chair and walked over to take the files from his friend, clapping him on the shoulder. “You go see Ruby. Don’t tell her we’ve destroyed her files. I’ll clean up this mess.”

“Don’t you want me to type up that report?”

“I can do it, Cleetus,” Bobby offered. “I mean if the sheriff doesn’t mind a little help. You really should go see your friend.”

Both she and Cleetus looked at him expectantly. Gage knew he should refuse her help. Since the minute he’d met her, she’d caused him nothing but trouble. However, if he did that Cleetus would insist on staying.

“I’d appreciate the help,” he said, his voice sounding reluctant even to his own ears. He fished out the cruiser keys from his pocket and some money from his wallet, handing them over to Cleetus. “Take my cruiser. It’ll get you there faster than your old truck. If you have time, stop and buy Ruby some flowers from both of us.”

“I sure will, Sheri…er…Gage. She likes tulips.” Cleetus grinned. “’Course she’ll fuss and tell me it’s a damn waste of money.”

“That she will.” Gage set the files back on his desk and led the way down the back hall. “I need to get some evidence out of the trunk before you leave.”

His deputy loped to the back of the office in front of him. The man had the body of an NFL offensive lineman, the maturity of a fourteen-year-old and the heart of a kid. He never would’ve made it in a city police force, but Dad had seen Cleetus’ kindness as an asset in Westen. Gage just prayed nothing occurred in town that was really dangerous. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to the man.

Behind him the computer booted up with a lyrical chime. Wonder if Bobby could figure out the security code his dad had installed on the system. Maybe she was more bloodhound than she looked.

Bobby stared at the screen a moment. Why in the world had she agreed to help the overbearing man with his report? It wasn’t her responsibility to help him. Since the minute she’d met him, he’d caused her nothing but trouble. More than likely he planned to lock her back in that cell for the night.

Icy-cold prickles ran over her skin at the idea. She didn’t think she’d make it a whole night in that place. If asked, she’d admit her newfound claustrophobia wasn’t the only reason she wanted to type up the list. Working with Cleetus this afternoon, she’d listened to him talk about his friend Ruby over and over. She liked the man and would feel guilty if assuaging her own pride prevented him from visiting her tonight.

On the other hand there was Sheriff Justice. The man might be high-handed and arrogant, but he had agreed to her help, albeit reluctantly. The fact that he’d made a promise to his deputy and went out of his way to keep it told her he was a man of principle and a good friend.

“You could use the old typewriter next to the computer,” the sheriff’s deep voice said from behind her.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. “Jeez! Do you have to keep doing that?” she asked, once her heart started beating again.

“Do what?”

She turned and found herself face-to-face with his belt buckle. She tilted her head and let her gaze travel up the long length of his torso to his face. He wasn’t smiling, but the arch of his one brow suggested he’d sneaked up behind her and scared her for his own amusement. His close-cut sandy hair made her want to run her fingers through it, not too mention all that lean muscle she’d seen earlier.

Lord, the man was both handsome and intimidating. She swallowed, feeling her tongue stick to the roof of her abruptly parched mouth. This was no time to let him know how much his tactics worked. “I wish you’d quit sneaking up behind me and scaring me.”

This time his lips spread into a slow, lazy smile and he leaned closer, stopping mere inches from her face. “If just asking a question scares you, Ms. Roberts, perhaps you should quit playing detective and go back to whatever schoolroom you left.”

His breath caressed her cheek, but his words irritated her temper. She narrowed her eyes, turned and typed
JUSTICEFORALL
in the computer’s password box, quickly popping up the wallpaper and desktop.

He let out a low whistle. “How’d you figure that out so quickly?” he asked, the arrogance gone from his voice.

She pointed at his father’s campaign poster. “I’ve been staring at that slogan all day.”

He chuckled, a deep sound that sent warmth shooting over her slightly frayed nerves. It reminded her of being held in his arms earlier.

“You are good at solving puzzles, I’ll give you that.” He walked around the desk and retrieved a pile of manila folders from the top of one cabinet. “I appreciate you helping with the report. Cleetus has an overdeveloped sense of duty, and I didn’t think I’d ever get him out of here.”

Apparently that was as close as he’d come to issuing her an apology.

After a quick scan of the computer’s programs, she opened one for making reports, set up the file and began typing the information he needed. Funny, she’d started helping because Cleetus sounded so distraught, not because she wanted to help the sheriff.

Well, okay, to be honest she’d seen a way out of her cell and she’d taken it.

Guilt nibbled at her conscience. Despite his treatment of her, Sheriff Justice seemed to like his deputy. Would that friendship keep him from reprimanding Cleetus for letting her out of the cell? Or would he fire the big-hearted deputy for showing her such a kindness? She hated thinking someone would suffer because of her. Her fingers paused on the keyboard. She stole a glance at the sheriff, who’d just about finished clearing the loose files from the tops of the cabinets.

Don’t be a coward
.

Yeah, right. Look at the man. Nothing but solid muscle and steel for a backbone.
If I mention the cell, he’s more than likely to toss me back in for the night
.

All ready feeling the walls crowding in around her, she struggled to drag in a deep breath.
Don’t think about being locked in such a tiny closet of a place, just ask him. You owe Cleetus that much
.

She shoved the whole little-closet image to the back of her mind. “Um, Cleetus is a very nice man.”

“That he is,” the sheriff said as he grabbed another pile of manila folders from the floor and shoved them haphazardly into a drawer. Apparently, he was no more concerned with proper filing than his dispatcher, who at least had some sort of system.