Page 52 of Westin

“Yeah. Can’t shake a stick at that.”

“And Lea helped, some. She told me we don’t need special certification or anything.”

“How would Lea know?”

Clint was quiet for a moment, maybe worried his answer would push Westin to pick up that bottle again. But Clint couldn’t lie if his life depended on it. “She’s a cop. A DEA agent.”

Westin cursed under his breath, rocking back on the ice-cold sidewalk into a small drift of snow. “What the hell!”

“Yeah. Crazy, huh?”

“And that guy? Fang?”

“He’s some gang member she was working for in an undercover operation. She stole some information from his computer and he’s trying to get it back.”

“That’s what she has in that necklace?”

“A memory card.” Clint ran his hands over his thighs, his attention as hard on that bottle as Westin’s. “I think she’s been compromised. Someone’s feeding this guy information, and I think it has to do with whoever planted that box on Miss Dulcie’s property.”

“The dead drop.”

“It was something Lea knew about because she recognized it from a case she worked a few years back.” He rolled his head on his shoulders. “I think this is a lot bigger than even she appreciates. I think someone wanted her to come to this area because someone who can make her disappear is here.”

For the first time since he bought it, Westin forgot about the bottle. He studied his boss, reading his face and not liking what it had to say. “You think someone wants Lea gone? Like, dead?”

“I might be wrong. But I think so.”

“You’re seldom wrong when you set your mind on something.” Westin took off his hat and slapped it against his hip before reaching up to run a hand over his head. “Hell, that’s not good.”

“No. We need to figure out who is behind that box as quickly as we can.”

“I’m telling you, that one guy was wearing a Rocking D patch.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Clint reached for the bottle and set it casually on the sidewalk, just on the other side of him, and out of reach of Westin. “I’ve got a friend in Denver who works with computers. I’m going to call him in the morning, see if he can enhance that video, maybe get us a good look at a face or a jacket, something we can definitively use to identify one of those guys.”

“And Lea? How are we going to keep her safe?”

“I’ve ordered a lockdown of Golden Sphinx. Four guys are running the fence all night; there’s two guys on the front gate. And Bowie’s standing guard outside the foreman’s cabin.”

“She’s DEA. Why don’t we call her people?”

“I’m pretty convinced her partner’s involved. And if that’s true, there’s no telling who else at the DEA might be involved.”

“What about Sheriff Reeves?”

Clint nodded. “As soon as we have something concrete to give her.”

Westin got to his feet. “We should get back, then. If something happens, I want to be there.”

“I thought you would.” Clint stood and scooped up the bottle of whiskey. “What about this?”

“Take it to the bunkhouse. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind killing it for me.”

Clint slapped him on the arm. “I’m sure they wouldn’t.” He stepped off the curb and headed over to his truck. “Follow me?”

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