Page 65 of Backtrack

A creature of habits—passed down from his grandfather and learned from hard experience—Cutter made his gear and clothing ready for the next morning as he got ready for bed. He wasn’t one to go to sleep with a loaded handgun lying on the table beside his head. Instead, he put his Colt Python on a folded washcloth in the nightstand drawer within easy reach, but not out in the open. Holster and badge stayed attached to his belt. The Glock 27 .40 caliber that served to keep him in compliance with USMS policy went into his backpack. Khaki slacks and wax canvas jacket draped over theback of the room’s single chair, everything left in place in the pockets. He was loosening the laces on his boots so he could step directly into them the next morning when his phone began to dance across the nightstand.

Cutter snatched it up immediately and fell backward on the bed. Mim’s face appeared on the screen. She was in bed, propped on a mountain of pillows, straw-blond hair pulled up in a frilly yellow scrunchie.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice husky with sleep.

“Hope my text didn’t wake you.”

“Your baby girl woke me,” she said. “Judging from her powerful desire to kick the crud out of my bladder, I’m a little worried she might be the grumpiest person in this family.”

Cutter gave her a playful grimace. “Sorry. Tell her I said hello.”

“How you holding up?”

“I’m good.”

She scoffed. “You wouldn’t tell me if you weren’t.” She adjusted her pillows against the headboard to sit more upright. “Let me try it this way. How’s Lola holding up?”

“We talked it out,” Cutter said.

“Something like that has to be a kick in the gut, I’m sure,” Mim said. “Just know you don’t have to shield me from the bad stuff.”

“That’s my job,” he said.

“Then our jobs are at odds,” she said. “Because it’s my job to buoy you up. And we decided early on in this marriage that if you and I are at odds, my position wins.”

“We decided that?”

“Well,” she said, “I decided that. And if you don’t agree, please refer to what I have already decided.”

“Noted.”

“Seriously, Arliss,” she said. “You can’t be afraid of talking to me. We’ve been through too much for that.”

Cutter beat his head against the pillow. “It’s a tragic deal,” he conceded. “Worse for the Ketchikan PD guys. They knew her. Lola’s stunned for sure, but she seems more pissed than anything. I didn’t mention it earlier, but Jessica Stone’s previous arrests showed she had a wolf’s head branded on the nape of her neck.”

Mim’s mouth fell open. “No! Just like the ones in that horrible business last winter.”

“Yep,” Cutter said. “The troopers and the FBI both have open homicide cases. Lola sniffs around every free moment, but it’s been months with no new leads until today.”

“Whoever it is branding these people is so terrifying that the possibility of seeing them again made this poor woman feel she had no other choice than to kill herself?” Mim closed her eyes. “What kind of world are we bringing this child into, Arliss?”

“The same kind of world it’s always been,” Cutter said. “We just happen to be privy to the guts of it at the moment.”

“This scares me,” she said.

“I know,” Cutter said. “That’s what I’d hoped to avoid.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk to me about it. Anyway, if anyone can find them, it’s you and Lola.”

“We’re manhunters,” Cutter said. “Not homicide detectives. The chief has made it clear this is a spare-time endeavor only. And there’s not a lot of that floating around. The warrants just keep rolling across my desk.”

“Well, I have faith in you,” Mim said. “Might not be today or even tomorrow, but at least you have another piece of the puzzle. You’ll find them, and when you do, you’ll make them pay. Grumpy’s Man-Rule …”

“How are you feeling?” Cutter said, eager to change the subject away from bloody murder.

“Like a whale.” Her eyes narrowed, studying him. “You didn’t eat, did you?”

“No appetite.”