Page 37 of Backtrack

There was plenty of dog evidence the closer they got to the house—piles of crap in the yard, a gnawed cow bone by the front door—but no German shepherd.

Pink had broken into a couple of businesses, hit the armored car of course, and had now been involved in two murders—three if Foster kicked the bucket. But he’d never rifled through anybody’s house. He thought it would be like the movies and that they’d start ripping the stuffing out of the furniture right from the jump. Duvall said that was a good way to miss something. Neither Bryant nor his wife got off work until three p.m. That gave them time to be methodical.

Duvall decided they should start in the bedroom, reasoning that if Bryant had taken the diamonds, he’d want to keep them close. Besides, the window-unit air conditioner was in there. The rest of the house relied on box fans.

Duvall walked the floor first, listening for creaks, feeling for loose boards—like he spent a lot of time looking for hidden compartments. Pink figured he’d seen it in a movie.

The Bryants made their bed before heading off to work. Pink chuckled at that. His aunt was always on him about making the bed right after his feet hit the floor in the morning. He would have,except the old lady told him to do it. Nobody told Ricky Lee Pink what to do.

Duvall rolled back a carpet runner, checking for hidden hidey-holes, then knocked on the wainscotting beside the oak headboard. He gave a satisfied chuckle when the wooden trim made a hollow thumping sound and then gave way, opening inward to a stiff shove.

It was an old farmhouse with six-inch interior walls packed full of dusty wool batting and newspapers from the 1940s for insulation and sound proofing. Everything had been pulled away between two wall studs, leaving a hiding spot that was just big enough for a Folger’s Coffee can—the red metal piggy bank of the masses.

“Jackpot,” Duvall said. He rubbed his hands together like a housefly and then peeled the plastic lid off the can to look inside. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He lifted a purple Crown Royal bag—almost as common as the Folgers can. “This is bullshit!” He spat and then pitched the bag on the bed.

Pink snatched up the velvet bag and had a look for himself. “What the hell?”

“Cash,” Duvall said. “And some of Grandma’s cheap-ass pearls.”

Pink flipped through a stack of bills, mostly twenties and hundreds, held together with a thick rubber band. “None of this makes sense.”

“This shit heel was first one there after we left,” Duvall said. “He sat with that truck for over an hour while the rest of the pigs chased us all over the county.” Duvall turned and started tossing through the drawers of a tall oak bureau.

“What if Watts was wrong?” Pink said.

Duvall threw him a wary side-eye. “What do you mean, wrong?”

“Wrong,” Pink said again. “About the diamonds. What if they were never on the truck in the first place?”

“No way,” Duvall said. “Moffit wouldn’t put three guards on a Sunday morning. They were watching over something very expensive … unless …”

Pink frowned. “Unless what?”

“Get this,” Duvall said. “What if there weren’t any diamonds on the truck?”

“That is what I just said.”

The compressor in the window unit air conditioner kicked on, causing both men to jump.

“Right.” Duvall held up his index finger. “But what if the reason there were no stones on the truck is because good old Gerald Moffit walked off with them beforehand. Remember, I wanted to hit the ranch before the stones were even on the truck, but he said no.”

Pink nodded. “The rancher had too much security.”

“That’s what Moffit told us,” Duvall said. “But we’ve never laid eyes on the place. Moffit’s the boss. He’d be the one to put the stones in the strongbox and make sure it was sealed. A little sleight of hand and he stuffs them into his pocket and then frames us for the robbery.”

“I guess so,” Pink said. “But is it framing us if we actually hit the truck?”

“You’re missing my point, kid,” Duvall said. “Everyone thinks we stole the diamonds, while Moffit walks away with them and no one’s the wiser.”

“But we know he’s part of it,” Pink said. “What’s to say we won’t rat him out?”

“A bullet in our brains,” Duvall said. “That’s why we gotta watch out for each other.”

A sudden thought occurred to Pink, like a black cloud passing in front of the sun. “Hey. You’re putting an awful lot of blame on a guy who wasn’t even there. Someone popped that strongbox. You were the first one into the back of that truck when the guard opened the doors. Millner and me were up front taking care of the others.”

“Yeah,” Duvall said. “And you both got there lickety-split.”

“Nope,” Pink said. “You had the back of that truck all to yourself for well over thirty seconds. A hell of a lot can happen in half a minute. You sure that box was empty?”