Page 66 of Backtrack

“I stashed an emergency PAYDAY in your pack,” Mim said. “Eat that, at least. I have a feeling it’s gonna use up a lot of energy dealing with Joellen.”

“You’re not really worried about her, are you?”

“What, worried that you could fall back into the arms of your gorgeous ex-wife while I’m eight hundred miles away with acne and swollen feet? Nope. Not one teensy bit.”

“That’s a relief.”

“If I’m worried about anything, it’s that now we are finally together,I’m not quite the girl you’ve been imagining me to be all these years.”

“You’re more,” Cutter said.

“Yeah, thirty-eight pounds more.”

“Seriously, Mim, Joellen doesn’t even know I’m here, and she may never know. My idea is to watch from a distance when she leaves the ship. See for myself if anyone is following her. If she gets off clean, then Lola and I will finish up and fly home.”

“Tell Lola she has my permission to clobber Joellen if she tries to get fresh.”

Cutter laughed. “I’m sure Lola has that covered on her own. She already thinks of herself as our kid’s auntie.”

“You’re a good man, Arliss Cutter. I’m not really worried.”

“Good,” he said. “And anyway, Joellen told me she’s met some new guy on the ship. I am the farthest thing from her mind right now.”

CHAPTER 25

Joellen Cutter clung tight to her date’s arm as they took another lap around deck 17 ofThe Polar Starsteaming toward Ketchikan. She steadied herself against the ocean swells. The motion of the ocean was as good an excuse as any to snuggle closer. The real issue was the havoc three very strong Old-Fashioneds during dinner now wreaked on her forty-three-year-old body. The outside track encompassed approximately three quarters of deck 17. Eight laps made a mile. Joellen and Steve were on their seventh sauntering. It was just before midnight. The night was still young. Steve yawned but kept walking like a good sport. Joellen was just getting started. A dome of countless stars twinkled brightly in the crisp northern air. A particularly large swell gently lifted the massive ship and then set it down with just as much care. The movement was predictable, far from violent—like riding a bucking three-toed sloth.

The captain had warned of sixteen-foot seas once they left Hecate Strait between mainland British Columbia and Haida Gwaii—formerly the Queen Charlotte Islands. They’d have a few hours of exposure to the open Gulf of Alaska—the captain called it the birthplace of storms—before they ducked into the Inside Passage on their way up to Ketchikan.

The breeze whipped across Joellen’s face as they rounded the corner popping out from behind the big theater screen where the ship showed evening movies from the pool deck below. Tonight, they’d caught the end ofJaws—a horrible choice for cruise entertainment, Joellen thought.

The walk made it worth a few jump scares. Steve’s navy-blue blazer smelled like the filet mignon they’d each had for dinner—black pepper with a side of something earthy. It was nice, comforting, so much better than being alone for an entire cruise.

Joellen couldn’t help but notice his eyes darting around the open deck as they walked. He logged the young couple who were getting out of the hot tub as they approached, but he paid special attention to the guy in a hoodie leaning against the starboard rail. Like most of the cops and military men she’d dated, Minnesota Steve’s head seemed mounted on a swivel, as if he expected to be attacked by unseen enemies at any given moment. She smiled inside at the thought. Arliss used to kiss with his eyes open. Weird. But she’d gotten used to it.

She and Steve hadn’t reached that point—yet. The wind out on deck was bracing. With any luck, he would suggest they find a place to get warm.

Most men would have been trying to show off their extensive knowledge of cruise ships by now—stabilizer fins, the difference between a nautical mile and a plain old ordinary mile—but not this guy. Even at dinner, Steve appeared to be far more interested in Joellen than sharing much about himself. She thought he might drink a little more than his single Rusty Nail, maybe loosen up a bit. No luck. He was recently widowed and had a nineteen-year-old daughter studying theater at the University of Michigan, but he’d told her all that when they were still waiting in line to board. His job was something in state law enforcement. The details on that were fuzzy. He was a far better listener than she was.

A lawman widower who was a good listener and had a collegeage daughter. The perfectly harmless companion for a lonely ocean cruise—almost too perfect. He was so interested, in fact, that if he’d not been so handsome she might have thought he was interrogating her.

She shook off that creepy thought and decided to enjoy herself. Besides, if anyone did happen to be following her, who better to have her back than a muscular state cop?

Deck 17 was immediately above the pool. Lounge chairs crowded the walkway during daylight hours, but the crew stacked and stowed the chairs after dark, opening up the track. Northern latitudes sawlong days and late sunsets this time of year, but temperatures fell quickly, chasing most fair-weather walkers indoors.

The man in the hoodie pushed off the rail as they got closer. He walked directly toward them, making momentary eye contact with Steve, almost like they knew each other. He ignored Joellen altogether. It was like he made a conscious effort to avoid looking at her. Strange. Joellen chuckled.

“What?” Steve must have felt her move when she laughed. “Do you know that guy?”

“I do not,” she said. “I thought you did.”

“Nope.” He gave her hand a playful squeeze. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I was just thinking how the gunfighter mentality has rubbed off on me over the years.”

“Gunfighter?”

“Sorry,” she said. “My ex-husband called it that. I mean the hyperawareness.”