Close To The Edge (Westen #2) (27 page)

“Two gangs? In this small town?” In the few days she’d been here, she hadn’t noticed one group of kids hanging out at any of the places in town. No fights, nothing to suggest a gang.

“Yep, the baseball gang and the football gang.”

Cleetus nodded. “Gage and Deke belonged to both. Best duo on the football field on a Friday night. Gage passing, Deke catching. Was a thing of pure beauty.”

“That’s how he got the nickname Gunslinger,” Deke said.

Before she could question them more about Gage’s past, he returned, pocketing his phone as he reached them. “The smart thing to do is lock the meth up in the jail, except I don’t know who Rusty was working for. My best guess is that’s the person who killed him. No way could someone from Westen sell this much Meth on their own. The raids in Cincinnati and Columbus are not helping the situation.” He shoved his hand through his hair, staring at Deke a moment, almost as if they read each other’s thoughts.

“Moving the meth to town puts everyone at risk if the distributors need to replace what’s seized tonight,” Deke said, his facial muscles tightly matching the intensity in Gage’s.

Bobby understood their concern. No way could Westen’s citizens hold up under a drug war. “So what do we do?”

“We leave it here, under guard until the DEA can get here tonight or in the morning to claim it.”

“Won’t the killer try to take it?”

“My gut tells me this guy’s trying to eliminate anyone who can lead us to him. Cleetus,” Gage switched his attention to his deputy, who’d snapped to attention at his name, “I’m going to send Daniel out here with camping gear for the two of you. You don’t let anyone near that tunnel, okay? Daniel can take the one inside the old Byrd place for the night.”

“Yes sir, Sheriff.”

Deke looked at Cleetus. “You two be careful out here. Tweakers are notoriously paranoid. They like to set booby-traps.”

***

“Do you really think the killer covered his tracks by killing Rusty?” Bobby asked as soon as they headed back into town after dropping her car off at his place. Gage was surprised she waited that long.

“Yes, but that’s not the important question of the moment.” He watched the headlights on the highway and waited for her to come up with the right question.

“You mean, does Teeny know this guy’s identity and does the killer know she’s still alive?”

He loved the way her mind worked. Maybe she did have a knack for being a private eye. Which sucked, since he still didn’t like them. Problem was, he found little
not
to like in Bobby. Before he could answer her, the sound of “Wild Thing” rang from her purse.

“Damn it,” she murmured as she searched through the big black bag, finally pulling out her phone and flipping it open. “What do you need now, Chloe?”

Her face illuminated by the fluorescent dial numbers on the phone, he watched her roll her eyes and pause to listen. Her sister’s voice, a slightly higher-pitched version of hers, came over the phone, but he couldn’t quite make out what she said.

“No, I’m fine. Yes, we found a dead body. Actually, two. No, I don’t need to come home yet. Yes, the whole thing involves the Byrd property. No, the sheriff wasn’t rude. His name is Gage. Well, yes, I’d say he’s handsome. Chloe Roberts, I don’t believe that is any of your business.”

She glanced at him and lifted her shoulders in a small shrug in the dim light of the truck’s cab. Her sister had to have just asked if something happened between them.

Despite the evening’s turn of events and what still lay ahead, he found himself relaxing a bit. No doubt because the conversation between the sisters sounded so normal.

“Yes, I’m focused on finding out the information your client needs and as soon as this is all handled to the sheriff’s satisfaction I’ll give you a complete report.”

She’d put his needs before her case.
Interesting
.

He listened while she talked with her sister, her voice slipping from mildly irritated to placating, and back to irritated. Obviously the younger sister was giving her a taste of being worried and fussed over. Something he suspected happened little in Bobby’s life. The idea ate at him. Bobby Roberts deserved to have someone worry about her.

“No, you and Dylan do not have to come here. You’ll just be in the way. Besides, you’re both too busy with your careers and school. Yes, I know you’d set it aside for me, but it’s not necessary.”

Growing up he’d wished for a brother or sister, someone to hang with or tease. Deke was about the closest he’d come. He’d been lucky, though— even though Dad had been the town sheriff, he’d always had time for him. Now with him gone, he’d missed someone fussing over him the way his dad had for years—the way Chloe was doing over the phone to Bobby.

In fact, there’d been a hollow place inside him since before Dad’s funeral. One he’d grown accustomed to and accepted as part of his life from now on—that was, until Bobby fell into his arms.

Almost as if she knew what he’d been thinking, she reached out and took his hand lying on the truck’s gearshift. Warmth settled in his chest at her touch. Different from the hot need he’d been fighting from the minute he’d met her. That hunger still hummed through his body, but this new need both pleased and scared him.

“Yes, I promise to be careful. Gage is quite capable of handling this. Yes, I’ll tell him. I love you guys, too.”

A moment later, she slipped the phone back in her purse.

“What did she want you to tell me?”

She gave a snort of a laugh. “She said to take care of me or she’ll come here and kick your…um, butt.”

“I’ll bet she would, too.”

“Chloe can be a bit obsessive at times.”

“Probably makes her a good lawyer.”

“And a pain in the backside,” she said but the humor in her voice took the edge off the comment. “So back to the Teeny problem. Do you think the killer will go after her?”

He released Bobby’s hand to grip the steering wheel with both hands, immediately focusing back on the problems the night’s revelations had caused. “So far he’s done his work without being noticed or tipping his hand. He doesn’t like or want a big scene. But by now I bet he knows Teeny is hole up over at Clint’s clinic.”

“Oh my God,” she said on a whispered gasp. “Your cousin’s family.”

Chapter Fourteen

“I
called Clint as soon as I learned the meth was staying here tonight. He said Teeny was still semi-conscious and no one had been by to inquire about her,” Gage said in an almost casual tone. “But just in case, I had Clint send Emma, Aunt Isabelle and the boys over to stay with Lorna at the café.”

His words didn’t fool her. Despite his implied lack of concern, the landscape had flown past them from the moment they’d gotten in the truck. Bobby glanced at the speedometer. Eighty-five.

Sure he wasn’t worried one little bit.

Minutes later, they turned onto the main street of Westen right near the clinic. All the windows facing the street were dark.

Harriett greeted them at the darkened doorway. “Kept the lights out near the street. The doc said you wanted it to look like no one was here. You two look like you could use a bath,” she said, leading them back to the room where they’d seen Teeny sleeping the day before.

At the door Harriett stopped them on the threshold like some warden of a special prison. She soaped up two washcloths and handed one to Bobby and the other to Gage. “Wash first, then talk.”

Bobby didn’t think she’d ever get used to the nurse’s matter-of-fact bluntness. In the hallway’s dim light she glanced down and saw the dirt and mud caking her jeans and sweater. Funny, a bath and changing clothes didn’t seem like much of a priority right now.

The look on Harriett’s face suggested that they not buck her orders or even try to enter the room without washing. With a glance at Gage, who appeared no happier than she about a bath at this moment, but obeyed nonetheless, Bobby quickly made work of removing any grime on her face and hands.

“Where’s Clint?” Gage handed his grimy towel back to Harriett.

“Doc’s in his office trying to find a bed at the county hospital for Teeny. He wants to get her in some place that can do drug rehab.” The edges around Harriett’s eyes and mouth softened as she walked over to the bed where Teeny slept in the dimly lit room. The nurse wiped a loose strand of hair from the girl’s face. “Poor thing needs some food and care, too. Scrawny doesn’t half describe her.”

“That’s the meth.”

“Oh, it might be the immediate problem, but her mother never had much meat on her bones, either. And I doubt either of them knew how to stand up to a man. What a shame.”

Gage took Bobby’s washcloth and set it on the edge of the sink. Taking her hand in his big warm one, he stood patiently beside her just inside the door. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, the caress reassuring her, despite his attention on the sleeping woman across the room. He seemed to wait for the nurse’s permission to approach her patient.

“The few times she’s drifted awake long enough to talk to me or the doc, she hasn’t made a bit of sense. He’s worried the beating or the drugs or both might’ve given her brain damage.” Harriett tucked the covers around her patient before moving aside. “Might as well see if she’ll wake up for you.”

Instead of taking the seat by the bed, Gage leaned in close to Bobby. “Why don’t you try talking to her?”

“Me? She doesn’t know me at all.” Was he nuts? She wouldn’t know the first thing to ask the girl. She had nothing in common with a meth junkie. “You’re someone she knows and you’re also the town sheriff. Someone with authority.”

“Exactly. I’m the law. She won’t trust me. But you have skills for this I don’t.” He put his finger under her chin and lifted until her eyes met his. “Talk to her like a concerned teacher.”

Great. He wanted her to do the one thing she’d always loathed about teaching—delving into her student’s lives outside of class. She’d always preferred to leave that to the counselors.

“I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for.”

“Yes, you are exactly what I need. I need you to do this,” he said in an almost soft murmur. He held her gaze, his thumb caressing her knuckles once more. “Teeny needs our protection and I can’t do that if I don’t know who is behind all this.”

Taking a deep breath, Bobby walked over to the bed and sat in the rocker. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Gage move into the room’s shadows.

“Teeny?” She reached forward and took the other woman’s hand in hers. It felt cool. Small, scabbed-over sores dotted the nearly translucent skin stretched tightly over the bones. It was like holding the hand of an elderly person. There couldn’t be an ounce of fat on her body. “Teeny, can you hear me?”

No response.

Bobby glanced to Gage’s dark form. A movement of his head suggested he wanted her to continue.

How to reach this girl?

As a teenager Dylan had always been difficult to get out of bed in the mornings. Maybe she needed to be firmer with Teeny like she had with Dylan?

She switched to her “mom” voice. “Teeny. It’s time to wake up.”

The girl’s pale lids fluttered.

“Open your eyes. We need to talk.”

“Mom?” Teeny’s voice cracked. Her lids drifted open, then closed. “Dry. Need a drink, Mom.”

Should she give her something to drink? Bobby looked at Harriett for reassurance.

The nurse poured her a glass of water and brought it over. “Not too much. Just sips,” she whispered.

Nodding her understanding, Bobby took the glass and held the straw to Teeny’s bruised, cut and chapped lips. “Take a little sip, sweetheart.”

“Mom? I miss you. Lonely…without you.” Teeny took a sip of the water, her eyes opening, but not really focused on Bobby.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you, too.” Bobby hated lying to the girl, but when she’d been young there were many a night she would’ve loved to talk to her mom, even if it had been a blurred vision of her in a dark room.

Teeny took another sip of the water. “Rusty likes the fishman. Said the fishman was our friend.”

Fishman? “Teeny, who is the fishman?”

“Rusty said he had to shut me up. The fishman wanted me to shut up.”

“Teeny, can you tell me where the fishman is?”

“I hurt so bad. Don’t let him find me, Mom.” She sat straight up in bed and grabbed Bobby’s hand in a death grip. “Saw what he did to the banker. I didn’t tell no one, I swear it, Mom. I wouldn’t do that to Rusty, Mom. You know that.”

Had she witnessed Harley’s murder? Is that why Rusty beat her? Even after he beat her nearly to death, Teeny wanted to protect her man.

Heart breaking for the girl and her wasted life, Bobby eased the battered girl back into the bed, gently smoothing her damp hair off her face. “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I know you didn’t tell anyone. Go back to sleep.”

“Mom? I love you, Mom.” Her eyes drifted closed, her fingers slowly relaxing in Bobby’s. “Don’t go, Mommy.”

“Sleep, sweetheart.”

“Don’t…go…Mommy.”

Bobby, turned and stalked out of the room, not looking at either Gage or Harriett. Blindly wiping at the tears streaming unchecked down her face, she headed for the front of the house. Two strong arms wrapped around her, stopping her retreat.

“This way, Bobby. Out back,” Gage whispered in her ear, turning her and leading her to the back door.

Outside, she gulped in air as he held her.

“It’s okay,” he said.

White-hot anger shot through her. She shoved hard against him until he had sense enough to let go.

“Don’t,” she said, stepping away from him. She dashed at the tears again. “Don’t hold me. Don’t try to make it right. That girl is half alive and I’m making her think she was talking to her dead mother!”

“I know.”

“No! You don’t know.” She stomped down the steps into the dark yard. “Too many times I wanted my parents after they died and there was no mother to comfort me, no father to hold me. And now I just deceived her into thinking I was her mother just to get some information out of her.”

He followed her down the stairs. “Bobby, stop it. You didn’t do anything to her. She believed what she wanted.”