Page 56 of Backtrack

She took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in her mouth, eyes fluttering as it soothed the sores that inevitably formed as a side effect of her chemo.

“I’m not a training deputy,” Cutter said.

“He said you told him the horseshoe nail story.”

Cutter shrugged, sheepish. “I did.”

“You are a teacher, D Wayne Cutter.” Lucy wagged her ice cream spoon at him. “Pretty sure you were born that way. Think about it. The sheriff entrusted you with his nephew. Why you? Why not Morton, or Garza or frankly any other deputy at the SO?”

“No idea.”

“Well, it’s clear to me,” Lucy said. “And likely clear to everyone elsebutyou. Sooner or later, you’ll stop calling himkid. You’ll treat him like a man, and he’ll start acting like one.”

Cutter ate another bite of ice cream and then sighed. “Treat him like he’s competent, then he’ll become competent.”

Lucy grinned. “As much as any man ever does.”

“You’re so wise,” he said, meaning it.

She leaned back against the couch cushion and closed her eyes, ice cream bowl cradled in her lap. Cutter thought she might be drifting off to sleep, but she suddenly turned her head to face him and held up her spoon.

“Maybe Foster shot the driver!”

“W … what?” Cutter stammered, taken aback at the sudden change of subject. He should have been used to it by now. Lucy was a master at veering suddenly into uncharted territory.

“Just hear me out.” She sat up straight, ticking off thoughts inthe air with her spoon. “Watts stopped the truck without being forced. It stands to reason that he was working with the bad guys. Maybe they didn’t mean to shoot him. You said Foster was new on the job.”

“Right. A couple of months.”

“Think about it,” Lucy said. “A shotgun would be awfully unwieldy inside the cab of a truck, especially for a new guard under the sudden stress of a robbery. Seems like it would have been easy for him to panic and accidentally shoot the driver.”

“Then where did the diamonds go?”

Lucy looked up at the ceiling. “No idea,” she said. “But my husband is a kick-ass investigator. I’m absolutely positive he’ll figure it out.”

“Ha,” Cutter said. “Treat me like I’m a kick-ass investigator and I’ll start acting like one. … I say again, you are wise.”

She put her ice cream bowl on the coffee table and snuggled in against him. “I am pretty wise,” she said. “Wayne, I’m serious about what I said before. Bodie needs your help with those grandsons.”

He rubbed a hand down her arm, softly, so as not to hurt her. She seemed so incredibly breakable, like a look could bruise her.

“It costs money to move,” he whispered. “Money that we just do not have.”

“Wayne, I need you to listen to me. …” She met his eye, batting what was left of her lashes—the chemo had taken those, too. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Never.”

“I made a couple of phone calls to the Florida Department of Law Enforcement … the FDLE. Turns out, their Marine Patrol has several job openings. The captain I talked to sounded extremely interested in meeting with you. I told him the situation and listed off your credentials—Army Special Forces, sheriff’s deputy, investigator. He said, and I quote,Day-um!According to him, someone with your experience who’s already certified in Texas wouldn’t have to go to a long academy. Just a short lateral class to catch you up on Florida law.”

Cutter opened and closed his hand, showing the skinned and swollen knuckles. “Luce, I am forty-six years old.”

“They pay well enough, you could stop horseshoeing,” she said. “There’s no age limit as long as you can pass the physical. You’ll acethat. Florida Marine Patrol would be lucky to get someone like you on the payroll. And you’d enjoy the work. They issue you a boat! You know how you love to fish!”

Cutter’s throat convulsed, making it near impossible to speak.

“Luce, I wish you’d …”

“Our boys need you, Wayne.”