Page 42 of Backtrack

“You saidthey,” Cutter said. “Did you get a look at them?” He picked up a likely piece of wood that had broken off a big juniper tree in the front yard and took out his Barlow. Leaning against his Chevy, he began to whittle while he listened to everyone’s thoughts. A lot of good information came out in these little after-action conversations.

“Sue got an up-close look,” Ray Gene said. “Can you describe them, hon?”

“Not really,” Sue said. “One was big and the other was … normal. They were wearing my clothes over their faces.”

“Your clothes?” Johnson said.

“Yes, my clothes,” Sue said, obviously pissed to be asked again. “One of them … the normal-sized one, he had my black baby doll tied up like a mask. Scared the shit outta me when I walked in and saw him. I can’t describe their faces. Believe me, I wish I could.”

“But there are some tracks out back in the mud by the windmill,” Ray Gene offered. “Wouldn’t hurt for you to take a look, Wayne.”

Sue scratched the big German shepherd behind the ears. The dog was perfectly calm among all the uniformed law enforcement. These were his people.

“Lucky you got here when you did, Ray Gene.” Gladys McAllen sucked air through her teeth. “This could have gotten real bad in a hurry with Sue stumbling in on them like that.”

“I think they were waiting on me,” Sue said. “I mean, they searched our house, sure, but they’d covered their faces—”

“Maybe,” Cutter offered.

“What’s that mean, Wayne?” Sue said. “Maybe?”

“Maybe they were waiting for you,” he said. “Maybe you surprised them, and they grabbed the closest thing they could find to cover their faces—like your gown. Any idea what they were looking for?”

A white Cadillac turned up the driveway before either Bryant could answer.

“Looks like you have company,” Johnson said. The dog paid no attention to the visitor.

“Mr. Bierschenk,” Ray Gene said. “Our neighbor. Retired Tarrant County district judge.”

An older man dressed like he was heading out to play a round of golf climbed out of the vehicle, clutching a rolled magazine in his hand.

He tipped his ballcap. “Afternoon, Ray Gene, Sue.” He stared long and hard at her arm. “You okay, child?”

“I’m fine,” Sue said. “Just a little cut.”

Ray Gene gave him a nod. “Judge.” He took a moment to introduce the officers present.

“I assumed from all the squad cars that those two yayhoos tried to rob you.”

“You saw them?” Ray Gene said.

“I did, hoofing it across the back pasture. Figured they were upto no good. They crashed through the briars along the fence like the devil was on their heels. Got in a black pickup truck, a dually, I think. I did see that much. I tried to telephone you but just got a busy signal.”

“Yeah,” Ray Gene said. “They yanked the phone off the wall. Did you recognize them?”

“No,” Bierschenk said. “Wish I would have gotten a better look. I’d guess one was just under six feet tall, judging him in relation to your four-strand barbed-wire fence. Hard to guess his age, fiftyish maybe. He wasn’t quite as spry as the younger one. I never got a good look at his face. He had it covered up with something.”

“A mask?” Sergeant McAllen asked.

The judge shook his head. “Not a mask. More like he was holding something to it, like a T-shirt or something, like he might have been injured.”

“I told you I got him,” Sue whispered to her husband.

“A younger one, Judge?” Cutter said, looking up from his whittling.

“The other one was definitely younger,” Bierschenk said. “And big. A veritable giant. That one turned around several times to look over his shoulder while he ran, likely to make sure his older partner was keeping up with him.”

“Think you’d be able to identify him?” Cutter asked.