Page 3 of Backtrack

Mim answered on the first ring.

“Hey there,” Cutter said.

“Hey yourself,” she said.

“We just landed in Anchorage. I need to drop Jill off at the federal building, then head home. Less than an hour with any luck.”

He was met by silence.

“Missed you.” He sent the words out like a probing expedition.

More silence.

“Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Mim said. “You must have just turned on your phone.”

“I did,” Cutter said, bracing himself. “Why? Is there something I should—”

“I’m guessing you have a ton of missed calls.”

“I do …” A sense of dread washed over him. Mim wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “What’s going on?”

“I just got a call from your ex-wife.”

“You’re kidding—”

“I’m dead serious.” She gave an amused chuckle. “I was waiting for you to ask which ex-wife.”

“Okay. …” Cutter groaned. That was a fair point. It could have been any of his three exes—all of whom looked suspiciously like Mim. His fourth marriage probably would have worked out, but she’d passed away from breast cancer shortly before his brother was killed. “I’ll bite. Which one was it?”

“Number three,” Mim said. “The federal court clerk in Miami. Sounds like one of your Marshals Service buddies gave up our home number when you didn’t answer your cell right away.”

“She’s not … I mean we’re not—”

Mim gave another tight chuckle. “I’m not mad, Arliss, just seven months pregnant—which at my age can sound like the same thing. Call her back. It must be something important for her to contact you out of the blue.”

“Mim—”

“I can’t really blame her. If I was in trouble, I’d call you, too. Now, drop Jill off at her car and then hurry home. You can rub my feet while you tell me what this is all about. …”

Cutter ended the call and checked his voicemail. Sure enough, there was a voice message from a 305 number. Joellen’s number. Wife number three.

He closed his eyes and hit Play to be greeted by a timid Southern voice—much less snarky than he remembered.

“Hey big guy. Joellen here. I’m … sorry to bother you after … what has it been? I just … Look, I’m on my way to Alaska and I … I think I’m in a little bit of trouble. Probably just being paranoid, but I think I’m being followed. Anyway. Hope you are well. I’m on a cruise ship, but I should have service. I’ll leave my phone on. Please call me back, Arliss. I’m really—”

The voicemail ended in midsentence.

Cutter stared at his phone, transfixed, while the plane lumbered toward the gate.

Chief Phillips gave him a stiff elbow. She raised her voice just above the whispered hiss of the aircraft. “I said, are you okay?”

He shook his head, coming out of the stupor. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just thinking about something Grumpy used to say.”

“What’s that?”

“Sooner or later, the past hunts us down.”