“All right, but that’s all the time my nerves can take.”
He had no doubt if he didn’t return with in one hundred and twenty seconds she was coming out after him, not from her fear of the tunnel, but her fear for him. And that idea both pleased and scared him.
She rotated her wrist and flashed the light on her watch. “Go.”
With a couple of quick lunges, he scrambled out of the tunnel’s hole onto the ground beside it. He dropped into a crouch, paused and listened for any unusual sound. Undercover in the city, he’d known by the cadence of the cars and the movement of feet on pavement when danger was close at hand. Today, he had to draw on memories of days spent hiking and camping in the woods as a kid.
Birds chirped in the trees. Far off, he could hear bullfrogs calling and water running in the creeks that fed into the Mohican River. No cars grinding over the gravel road. No limbs cracking beneath errant boot steps. Nothing to say someone watched in the woods.
“One minute,” Bobby whispered from just inside the tunnel.
Still squatting, he duck-walked forward a few feet. The light was fading fast, especially in the copse of trees, but he was able to make out the shape of something on the edge of the trees. He didn’t have to guess what it was. Just like he suspected—the charred remains of the MacPherson barn.
He glanced around at the ground. The grass had been trampled here recently. No real footprints could be seen, but from the different depths of the dents in the grass, he’d say someone stood here for some time.
Watching the fire the other night?
A frisson of fear skittered across his neck, lifting the hairs. Watching the tunnel exit?
“Gage?” Right on time, Bobby peeked her head out of the tunnel.
He straightened, walked back over and slipped his gun back in the waistband of his jeans. Leaning over, he grabbed one of her hands. “Let me help you. It’s a little slippery.”
“Did you see anything? Anyone? Where are we?” she whispered as she scrambled out to stand beside him.
“We’re alone now, but someone was definitely here not too long ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Over here.” He took her elbow, led her over to where the grass had been flattened and pointed out the area with his flashlight. “Someone stood here for a while.”
“Could it have been a hunter?”
“Maybe, but I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“This is a spot where someone could view anyone coming out of the tunnel over there.” He swung his light to where they’d just exited the tunnel then back behind her. “And that’s the barn that burned down just two days ago.”
“So the fire, the land fraud, Harley’s murder, Rusty’s murder and the drugs are all connected.” It wasn’t a question. She’d come to the same conclusion he had. “So what do we do now?”
“First we get some help to lock these drugs up and out of commission then we figure out who’s behind this mess.” He took her hand and led her out of the woods to the open area behind the barn. Pulling out his cell phone, he called the office.
“Cleetus, this is Gage.”
“Hey, Sheriff. No one’s found any sign of that Rusty fellow, and the men pretty much finished cleaning out that trailer like you asked.”
“I found Rusty.”
“You did? Did he say why he beat up that poor little lady? How about who his supplier is?”
“He’s dead, Cleetus.”
“Dead? Well, damn.”
Trust his deputy to feel bad about a tweaker dying.
“I need you to call the county coroner’s office. I’m also going to need you to get hold of someone over at the state DEA office. We have a whole lot of meth down here.”
“Meth?”
“Apparently our boy Rusty wasn’t just a tweaker. He was a supplier and quite possibly the cook.”
“I’ll get Daniel to take over the station and make those calls, Sheriff.”
“Good. Let’s try to keep this information just between us for now.”
After he hung up, he called Deke to drive out to the site. He wanted his input as to what exactly was going on and just how likely they were to find the meth kitchen before the whole situation exploded.
***
Bobby sat on the hood of her car, watching Gage talk to Frank Watson and the county coroner’s team as they walked the blanket-draped stretcher with Rusty’s body on it to the ambulance. He’d moved both their vehicles from the Byrd place closer to the burned-out barn and the tunnel entrance while they’d waited for everyone else to arrive.
“Lorna sent you some tea and sandwiches,” Cleetus said setting several paper cups and a bag on the hood next to her.
“That was nice of her. How did she find out about this?” Bobby took the lid off one cup and swallowed some of Lorna’s special sweet tea. She’d suffer for the calories later, but right now she was starving and thirsty.
“Lorna’s one smart woman. She saw the coroner’s ambulance go by, then Deke Reynolds stopped in to get his dinner to go, something he doesn’t ever do, and she just figured something was up.”
Bobby took a bite of a chicken salad sandwich. Manna from heaven couldn’t taste this good. She chewed and swallowed quickly. “I keep forgetting how small this town is. News really does travel fast.”
“Yeah, Lorna knowing something’s up is only one of the things the sheriff isn’t gonna be too pleased about,” Cleetus said as Gage and Deke neared the Toyota.
Gage had introduced her to the fireman about an hour earlier as they waited for Frank to process the body and photograph the crime scene. It took all her willpower not to stare at the ridges of scars covering the left side of Deke’s neck and lower jaw like an angry poisonous vine. His deep, raspy voice suggested the fire he’d obviously been caught in had damaged his vocal cords, too.
“I didn’t expect this murder to stay quiet for long. Town’s too small for that. I’m just glad the mayor, town council and the newspaper reporters aren’t here mucking things up,” Gage said, reaching for a drink. His arm brushed Bobby’s in the process. He stopped and stared at her a moment. “You want to get inside the car where it’s warm?”
She shook her head a moment, still trying to come to terms with how a simple touch from him had her body tingling from the inside out. “I like it out here.”
“Okay.” He went to his truck. Returning, he held a worn denim jacket in his hands, which he placed over her shoulders without further comments.
Thank goodness it was dark now, her cheeks were so red from the intimate act she probably looked like a lobster with a sunburn. He couldn’t have announced their relationship any louder had he shouted it from the top of the barn’s ruins.
She glanced around and caught Deke staring at her. After a moment he gave a brief nod. Hopefully, that meant he approved.
Why? Did she need Gage’s friend’s approval? It wasn’t like they’d committed to a life-ever-after or anything. They’d simply had some good hot sex.
That’s when it hit her. She’d liked having sex with him. She also liked teasing him, the way he made her jump by sneaking up on her, hearing how protective he was about all the quirky people in town. She loved how patient he was with his deputies, how he tolerated the small-town politics, and that he liked Lorna’s cooking, but hated spiderwebs.
Damn, she didn’t just like those things. She loved every single one of them. And she’d done the stupidest thing. In less than one week, she’d fallen head-over-heels in love like some young girl on her first date.
“What else is going to piss me off tonight, Cleetus?” Gage finished off the last bite of the sandwich he’d almost devoured while she mused.
“I made that call over to the state DEA department. Seems they have a couple of raids goin’ on in Cincinnati and Columbus tonight and can’t spare a man to come get all this meth.”
“Aw, shit.” Gage turned and stalked off toward the barn.
Bobby started to scoot off
the car and go after him.
Deke held up a hand, stilling her movement. “Give him a moment.” The words rasped out over the cool night air. “He walks while he thinks.”
“You’ve known each other long?” she asked, tearing her gaze away from watching Gage, who’d pulled out his phone, the dial pad glowing against his face as he talked to someone and stalked through the grass in the twilight.
The fireman took a long drink of tea before answering. Did using his voice still hurt from his past trauma? Guilt washed over her for asking him to speak again.
“Met him his first day at school when he and his dad moved to town. The gunslinger was a couple of years behind me in school, but I recognized something in him from the get-go.” Deke stopped to take another swallow of liquid.
Even though she wanted to know everything about Gage, Bobby waited for Deke to tell the story at his own pace.
“I recognized the anger. He hated his dad for moving him to a small, rinky-dink town. He hated being the new kid in a school where most people had known each other almost from the time they were born. He hated his mom leaving them and hated himself for being angry with her. That anger made him edgy.”
“That’s a good thing?”
“If channeled right. It makes him aware of danger coming his way. It’s what kept him alive all those years undercover.”
Except for when his own wife nearly cost him his life. Silence hung between the trio. She wondered who or what had subdued Deke's edge and caused his scars.
“So how did Gage learn to channel that anger? I’ve seen teens just give into it, turn to drugs or gangs.”
That made Cleetus laugh and the right side of Deke’s mouth turned up in a half smile. “Until tonight, I’d say the worst drug problem we’ve had in Westen was the Saturday night pot parties. And as for gangs, there are only two that count.”
“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 cau
sed. “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.”
Close To The Edge (Westen #2) Page 21
