Page 30 of Backtrack

“Your sight picture,” Cutter said. “Your aim—the way you look at the world. First thing, knock off calling womenwhores, and I mean any woman, even the ones who prowl the truck stops.”

Johnson grinned. “Lot lizards, then.”

“I’m serious,” Cutter said. “Strike the wordwhorefrom your vocabulary. Ms. Blaisdell will see it in your eyes if you charge in there swinging your sword of righteous judgment. It’s not our mission to make a point about her questionable morality. We want her to talk to us. Do your best not to think of her as a stripper. Someone who sees you’re looking down your nose at them is bound to clam up. Now, make no mistake, if she runs, we’ll chase her. If she tries to hurt us, we’ll protect ourselves. Other than that, it’s good policy to treat folks like human beings, no matter what they happen to be wearing … even if that’s nothing at all.”

Cutter had assured his wife when he’d called that he would switch vehicles and be gone, but she came outside as soon as he drove up. The two cur dogs paid no attention, but both sprang to their feet and stretched at the creak of the screen door. Lucy tossed them each an old piece of corn bread and they trotted happily down the steps to flop in the cool dirt under the shade of the raised porch. The red dog eyed Johnson while it ate the treat.

Lucy had dispensed with the terry-cloth turban she customarily wore when the pastor stopped in to check on her, leaving her bald head exposed to the sun.

Johnson took off his hat when he saw her. He shot a nervous glance at Cutter, as if he needed permission to speak.

Lucy leaned against a porch post and smiled softly, squinting in the dusty brightness of the day, fanning herself with aTV Guideshe’d brought from inside. She had a way of calming nervous people and stray dogs.

“Good to finally meet you, Deputy Johnson,” she said. “I apologize if my appearance startles you. Wigs are just too scratchy in this heat.” She nodded toward Cutter. “And besides, I had hair when I needed it to snare this handsome guy. Hope he’s not being too rough on you.”

“I’m … I mean … he’s just fine, ma’am,” Johnson said.

“Did he spring the horseshoe nail maxim on you yet?”

Johnson nodded. “He did.”

“He must like you if he dusted it off this early,” Lucy said. “It’s a worthwhile lesson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cutter transferred his war bag of essential gear to the El Camino and then stepped up on the porch to give his wife a kiss.

“See you sometime this evening,” he said. “I plan to swing by the Ericksons and put a new set of shoes on their mare if the kid and I get all our leads run down in time.”

“Be safe,” she said. “And watch your heading.”

Johnson tipped his hat. “Good to meet you, ma’am.”

Cutter caught the kid’s eye. There were going to be questions when they got back in the car, questions Cutter just didn’t feel like answering.

CHAPTER 12

Johnson made it as far as the turn from Green Branch Road onto Highway 51. Four whole minutes.

“How sick is she? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Sick,” Cutter said, and left it at that.

Johnson fell silent again until through their short stop by the SO and then nearly to the county line. When he finally spoke it came out of nowhere, haltingly, as if he’d been trying to work out exactly what to say.

“Are you … I mean … Do you actually plan to stop and shoe horses after you work on this case all day?”

“This robbery homicide is the priority,” Cutter said matter-of-factly. “But yeah, if I have time, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Why?” What the kid lacked in guile, he made up for with sophomoric certitude.

Cutter was sorely tempted to tell him it wasn’t any of his business. Instead, he thought about what Lucy would want him to do and took a beat to ponder the question.

“You asked about my wife earlier,” Cutter said at length. “Turns out lung cancer has a hell of a price tag. I have to shoe a few horses every week to chip away at the bills.”

“I’m sorry to pry,” Johnson said.

Cutter rubbed his face and coughed, fighting the waves of emotion that threatened to drown him at any given moment. “Listen. We’re ten minutes out. I need to get my head in the game and so do you. A place like this can turn rodeo in a snap.”