Close To The Edge (Westen #2) (6 page)

“Good,” Bobby lied. “I’m in Westen and have met with the local sheriff.” Well, technically she’d met him, and she did have a meeting set up for tomorrow.

“Anything interesting happen on the case today?”

Let’s see, first I went dumpster diving. Then I fell on top of six feet, three inches of solid man, who handcuffed me and dragged me off to jail. Next, I decoded a secret filing system the Nazis would’ve envied. And finally had my first ride on a motorcycle straddled on behind the most infuriating and delicious man I’ve ever been near
.

“Nope, nothing really interesting happened today.”

“Any luck with the bank finding those letters?” Chloe munched onto something hard on the other end of the line.

“Are you eating Doritos?”

“Um, yes.”

“Is that dinner? How can anyone stay as thin as you, eating nothing but junk food all the time?”

“Lucky genes, I guess.”

“Rub it in.”

It did help that her sister was nearly five feet, ten inches tall. Both Chloe and Dylan were. She, on the other hand, had been
blessed
with their mother’s height of almost five-five if she teased her hair, and had to watch everything that went into her mouth.

“Besides, it’s not dinner. Just something to tie me over. I’ve been in court all day and I need something before I drive home. My blood sugar is probably nil at the moment.” Chloe slurped into a straw in her ear. “Didn’t I move out of your house four years ago? You aren’t supposed to be playing mom anymore. Wasn’t that the whole point of you doing this PI thing for me? So you could finally live a life with some fun and adventure?”

Bobby lay back on the bed again. Chloe had a point. She’d put her life on hold for eighteen years to raise her two sisters. “You’re right. It’s not my responsibility anymore to be your mother. If you want to eat junk food night and day, it’s not my problem. Just don’t come crying to me when your metabolism slows down.”

“You can’t guilt me out of it either.” Chloe munched in her ear again. “So, what have you learned about Mr. Byrd’s bank loan?”

“Today I mostly got some background information from the local deputy. He confirmed what your Norman Byrd told us. Mr. Byrd was a loner and lived all his life on his farm outside of town. As for the letters, I’ll try to find them tomorrow.”

“Mm-hmm. My client is Mr. Byrd’s only blood relative, but he hadn’t seen him since he was a small child. Did the deputy know anything about the supposed bank loan? Norman swears his uncle won’t have anything to do with banks.”

That was the whole crux of her case. Norman Byrd swore there was no way his uncle would get a bank loan with his land as collateral and he’d hired Chloe’s firm to prove the fact. Bobby was sure Cleetus had no idea what kind of loans or business the elder Mr. Byrd had participated in.

“No. He didn’t strike me as one who’d pry into people’s financial records. I’ll stop by the bank tomorrow and see what I can find out from them.”

“I suppose I can subpoena the bank records.”

“Not yet, Chloe. If those letters disappeared, a subpoena won’t make them reappear. Let me see what I can find out.” Bobby tried not to sound panicked. She’d convinced Chloe she could get the information and she would. Besides, she wasn’t ready to leave Westen and its arrogant sheriff just yet.

“I don’t know, Bobby. I hate to have you wasting your time and money…” The hesitation on the other end of the line gave her an opening.

“I’m not wasting my time. As far as money goes, believe me I’ve hardly spent more than gas money.” Staying locked in the jail she hadn’t even spent money on food today. “If nothing else, after tomorrow I’ll be able to tell you the Loan Officer’s name to put on the subpoena.”

“Okay. Jeez, I wish you’d decided to go on a cruise for adventure. I never should’ve let you talk me into investigating this case for me.”

Bobby rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at the cell phone. Dammit, her sisters owed her this time. “You know Chloe, I didn’t complain when you wanted to follow your dream to go to law school.”

“Oh no, don’t you start telling me how you worked summer school every year to supplement my law school scholarship.” Chloe laughed into the phone. “I know I owe you for that and so many more things. Why do you think I gave into this harebrained scheme of yours?”

It was Bobby’s turn to laugh. Both Chloe and Dylan had outgrown her guilt-complex lectures. “So I’m still on the case?”

“Sure, Sis. Just keep me posted if you find out anything I can use. The case doesn’t go to court for another two months.”

They talked a few more minutes about Chloe’s other cases and their sister’s upcoming graduation. Bobby promised that no matter what she’d meet Chloe in Columbus for Dylan’s Med-school graduation ceremony.

It was what her parents would have expected of them. All three daughters graduating from school and with professional jobs. Well, okay, two out of three had professions they liked.

Bobby sighed as she closed her cell phone. Chloe had thrown her this bone of a case to let her “play” detective. It was up to her to do a good job. The idea of being trapped teaching class one more year made her cringe with sick dread.

Her stomach growled loud enough to be heard three miles away. The snack bar she’d eaten earlier wouldn’t get her through the night. Unlike her younger siblings, she couldn’t survive simply on junk food. She needed some all-American protein, in the form of a cheeseburger. She glanced at her watch. Nearly nine. That little café in the center of Westen was probably closed by now.

Okay, she had two options. She could climb into her car and drive down the highway until she found a fast-food place, get a burger and some fries, bring them back and eat in her room, which would mean her food would be cold and congealed. Or she could take a chance and eat at the greasy-spoon diner less than a hundred yards from her room.

A glance out her window showed the light on at the café on the near side of the parking lot. A man stood behind the counter serving people. Her stomach growled again followed by a hollow pain deep inside. Okay. Greasy-spoon diner it was. She grabbed her purse and room key.

Chapter Four

A
ssistant District Attorney Moira Dudson stalked back into her office, clicked on the florescent lights and slammed the door behind her. Today’s verdict was her third loss in as many months. If she wanted her party’s political backers to support her bid for District Attorney this fall, she needed to make some headlines—fast. Her political career was going to hell faster than a serial killer in the electric chair.

She slumped down into her leather chair, kicked off her Carmen Ho linen stilettos
and turned to stare at the photos on the wall beside her. There was a picture of her shaking hands with the chief of police. The headline read, “Assistant DA Instrumental in Cracking Cocaine Ring”. Another photo showed her at a political fundraiser, arm-in-arm with both the Mayor and Governor. Those photos were nearly three years old.

It was supposed to be so easy. As a junior assistant, she’d managed to catapult herself into the limelight three years ago with that high-profile drug bust. There should’ve been more of those. After all, she’d had an inside man undercover in the drug scene.

Gage. The greatest disappointment in her life.

Frustration rumbled through her like the beginning of a late-spring thunderstorm. They should’ve been the dynamic duo. Him busting the criminals and she prosecuting them, making a name for herself and moving them both into the state’s political realm. Instead he spent the first three years of their marriage undercover following a cocaine trail. Just when the major raid took place and they should’ve been soaring into the limelight, he managed to get himself shot.

Not just once.

Not just twice.

But three damn times.

A tentative knock sounded on her door.

She swallowed the urge to yell at the intruder. What little patience she had today had been used up kissing her boss’s ass tonight at dinner. But gossip traveled fast in this office and she had an image to maintain. Screaming like a fishwife at the door wouldn’t help her get anywhere.

The knock sounded a second time, this time a little stronger.

Exhaling, she kicked her shoes under the desk, opened a file and pulled out a pen.

Always give the illusion of being busy.

“Come in.”

The door opened and her secretary—plain, efficient, the nondescript type of helper she preferred to make her stand out whenever they were seen together—stepped inside.

“Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Dudson, but I wanted to give you your phone messages before I left for the night.”

“Thank you, Lisa.” She held out her hand and took the slips of paper from the mousy blonde, who waited while she flipped through them.

Damn. Gage hadn’t returned her call. The man was impossible.

She clenched her teeth to keep from grinding on the expensive orthodontic work she’d paid for to give her a million-dollar smile. Pressure built inside her chest and she stared at the slips in her hands as if thinking, all the while forcing air slowly into and out of her lungs.

“No message from Sheriff Justice over in Westen?” She never referred to Gage as her ex-husband within earshot of subordinates. That part of her life was in the past. She refused to admit to a failure.

“No, ma’am.”

“Thank you. Be here bright and early tomorrow, I’d like to get a head start on the Smith-Johnson case.” She glanced at Lisa, who had edged out of the office and started to close the door. “Leave it open.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Focusing on the papers in front of her, Moira listened for the elevator bell signaling she was alone in the office. She tossed her pen onto the desk and leaned back in her chair once more.

Gage wasn’t calling her back just to piss her off. The man gave stubborn a whole new meaning. After three years you’d think he’d have forgiven her at least enough to take a phone call. He’d answered her first call to his cell this morning, but hung up immediately. The next three calls had gone directly to his voicemail, which he apparently planned to ignore.

She opened her phone book and dialed his home number, the one his father had originally given her. It rang and rang. The clock on the shelves lining her office read eight. Lord knows that small town closed its doors early. Where else would he be?

Suddenly the phone clicked over.

“This is Gage. Hear the beep. Leave a message.”

Abrupt and to the point. He’d gotten almost sullen since his little accident.

The phone beeped.

“Gage, it’s Moira. Look, I have some interesting intel I need to talk with you about.” She lowered her voice to sound huskily seductive, just the way he’d always liked. “Call me.”

After hanging up, she opened her bottom file drawer and lifted out the file the narcotics detective she’d been sleeping with had given her. He’d told her the State meth taskforce was looking at the northeastern to central area of the state, right where Westen was located, as a possible new source of the drug. They also had major drug raids scheduled to get the current supplies off the streets. When they’d done so, they planned to concentrate efforts to close down the rural labs.

If she moved quickly, she could position herself to not only tip off the taskforce, but get credit for the bust and possibly maneuver herself out of local politics into the state arena.

All she needed was Gage’s cooperation. And she’d get it no matter how dirty she had to play.

***

Gage cursed himself for a fool as he rode back down the highway to the one-stop motel and diner again. The lady detective was safe and sound behind her locked door. She was probably sound asleep in her bed.

The idea of her in bed had the vision of the first moment he saw her popping into his mind once more. Okay, the first moment he’d seen her ass. He wondered if it looked as good in the flesh as it had with those jeans stretched across those round curves. He’d love to see her on her hands and knees in front of him, his hands cupping those firm round cheeks in his palms as he…

“What the hell?” His erotic dream burst as he pulled into the parking lot and found it missing one thing. Her car. “Where the hell has she gone at this time of night?”

He stopped the bike in front of room number six and stomped to the door. No sign of forced entry. He tried the knob.

Locked.

He pounded on it. “Bobby?”

No answer.

Was she inside? Hurt? Had someone attacked her? Stolen her car? Left her for dead?

“Something I can help you with, Sheriff?”

Gage swung around to see Walt Sanders strolling out the diner’s door. He met him halfway. “Do you know where the lady who’s staying in this room might have gone?”

“Ms. Roberts?” The motel owner’s head shook as he spoke, his white hair bobbing with the effort.

Gage nodded.

“Nice lady. She came in a little while ago wanting something to eat. I hated having to tell her the grill was busted. All I’m serving tonight is coffee and dessert. She said she needed something with more meat on it.”

“Did she head toward the McDonald’s over near the interstate?” Gage started for his bike.

“Nope. I sent her on over to the Wagon Wheel. She was looking for a big thick burger and onion rings. You know they make the best in town, even if they are my competitors.”

“Thanks, Walt.” Gage straddled the bike and kicked the starter. “Hey, Walt, is room five or seven open tonight?”

“Seven is. Why?”

“Hold it for me, okay?”

“Sure thing, Sheriff.” Walt gave him a puzzled look.

Gage gunned the engine and headed back toward town and the tavern on the other side. He didn’t want to take the time to explain he’d be staying in the room to keep an eye on the lady PI tonight. He just prayed she hadn’t gotten into any more trouble over at the Wagon Wheel.

What had Walt been thinking to send her there? As much as Gage liked hanging out at the tavern, drinking a whiskey and trying to forget his problems, it wasn’t exactly a place a lady like Bobby should be visiting. Westen didn’t have a lot of troublemakers or delinquent types. But what few there were called the Wagon Wheel home.