The Edge of Justice Read Online Free PDF Page B

It's true. My name and my reputation, once highly regarded in the state's small law enforcement community, have been sullied by the suspicions the Cheyenne shooting raised. For a while now I've sensed that my career as a cop is coming to an end.
    “What about your badge? Shit, what about your life?” Jones finally smiles. “You sure made a lot of friends the last time you came to this part of the state. Most of the good cops think you've freaked out, they say you've become some kind of Dirty Harry rogue, while the bad cops love you. Excepting that scumbag Bender, of course.” Then he laughs, adding, “And the sheriff.”
    I think for a minute. What have I done to offend the sheriff? Then I groan. “I'd forgotten about the sheriff.”
    Jones chuckles again. “I haven't. That was the funniest thing I ever saw. Anyway, I was hoping to catch up to you, Anton. Seeing you today, I figured you must be the supersecret agent on that Danning girl. I just love the way the state takes these things off our hands whenever there's a hint of a conflict.”
    “I don't really know anything about it yet. The office just told me to come down and see Ross McGee about it. I tried to talk to him at the courthouse, but he didn't have the time. I'm seeing him later tonight. Anything I should know?”
    Jones looks at me for a fraction of a second too long before speaking. “Nope, I don't know anything about it either. It's the sheriff's deal. You ought to go on down and see him. I know he's working late tonight. Shit, we're all working late tonight. But go see him and get it over with.” He flashes teeth that are brilliant against his dark skin and the night. “Y'all can talk about old times. And give me a call tomorrow. Let me know how it goes. We'll get a few beers while you're here, long as I'm not seen with you.”
       
    I take Grand Avenue to Third Street and then go south past the interstate to the Holiday Inn. Another NO VACANCY sign flashes brightly there just as one had from every motel I passed. Yesterday a secretary at DCI's main office in Cheyenne described the trouble she went through to get a room. Every hotel or motel had been booked for months, she said, for the Lee trial. The only way she finally reserved a space was by threatening to have the Department of Health pay a lengthy and determined visit. A reporter from a distant, small newspaper was apparently booted out and rendered homeless so I could have a place to sleep.
    Despite the secretary's threat, the motel is actually Laramie's finest. It consists of a single sprawling brick building, two stories high, with a long wing of rooms that faces a grass courtyard and a partially covered swimming pool. There's a coffee shop and a bar just off the lobby, as well as a gift shop and some convention halls. The motel is at the very southern edge of town, where the land turns from tree-lined neighborhoods into scattered ranches and rolling plains.
    After changing into a soft flannel shirt, jeans, and Tevas at the motel and feeding Oso, I leave him there and drive to the sheriff's office. The three-story building is next to the sandstone courthouse and houses the jail, the twenty-man Laramie Police Department, and the fire department in addition to being the headquarters of the Albany County Sheriff's Department. Inside the lobby I show my badge to the Explorer Scout who's manning the front desk and explain that I want to find the sheriff. The Scout takes my name and gives me an astonished look, probably having read my name in the papers or having heard some of the talk after the Cheyenne shooting. Then he makes a quick call and gives me directions before buzzing me through.
    I vaguely remember the way down the maze of hallways to the sheriff's office although I've only been here once before. It was in more carefree days, two years ago, when one of the less notorious cases I investigated involved two deputies, Bender and another named Arnold, for the use of excessive force. The