Page 52 of Backtrack

“Horseshit,” Pink said. “Why would you hope a couple of armed men would—”

“Think about it, son—”

“I’m not your son,” Pink growled, low and menacing. His hands curled into tight fists.

“So, you do have emotions,” Moffit mused. “I’ll keep that in mind. Am I wrong to assume you came because you believe I have the diamonds?”

Pink stared at him. “Do you?”

“I do not,” Moffit said. “And the fact you came to ask tells me you don’t have them either.”

“What if we just came here to kill you?” Pink asked. “You know, tie up loose ends.”

Duvall, head tilted back, nose pinched with a thumb and forefinger, shot him a mortified side-eye. “Would you shut your mouth!”

“I suppose there is that.” Moffit gestured toward the corner with the barrel of his gun. What Pink had originally mistaken for a crumpled roll of opaque plastic sheeting showed distinct signs of pooling blood among the wrinkles and folds.

Duvall’s mouth sagged open. “Who is tha—”

“The last person who came here to kill me,” Moffit said.

“Seriously?” Pink heard himself say.

“No.” Moffit laughed hard enough to make the Browning bob in his hand. “That is Hiram Dietrich, the rancher from Eastland who actually owns the diamonds.” Dead serious now, Moffit nodded at the rolled body. “The poor bastard drove all the way to Fort Worth with the notion that he’d pitch a bitch at the TexSafe company president. I happened to be coming out of the building and ran into him in the parking lot. Insurance would have made him whole after a theft, but you know cowboys. He was still angry. It’s always the principle of the thing with them. TexSafe lost his diamonds. Someone had to bleed. He leveled all kinds of accusations. Threatened to sue. The whole nine yards. I told him I, too, had concerns and planned to go to the police myself. Convinced him to take a drive with me.” Moffit belly laughed again. “Events did not turn out as he calculated.”

“Aren’t you afraid the cops will focus on you?” Pink asked. “The last person to see him alive?”

“I like the way you think, young man,” Moffit said. “That means you’re careful. But no. Dietrich told his wife he was going to visit TexSafe, not me personally. All our cameras are in the back, covering the armored vehicles. No one saw us together. … At any rate, what were we talking about? Oh, that’s right, you were explaining to me how you all had come here to kill me and tie up any loose ends.”

Duvall glared at Pink again. “That is not why we came!” He didn’t look very intimidating while pinching his nose shut.

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Moffit said. “Do either of y’all have any experience selling stolen diamonds?”

“I don’t,” Pink said.

Duvall gave a shake of his head. “No.”

“That’s what I thought,” Moffit said.

“Can I put my hands down?” Pink asked.

“As long as we’re of one mind,” Moffit said.

“I think we are,” Pink said.

“Go on, then.” Moffit motioned with the Browning. “Relax.”

“If you don’t have the diamonds, who does?” Pink asked.

“That is a very good question,” Moffit said. “My money is on law enforcement. I personally witnessed my guards lock the diamonds in that strongbox in the back of the armored truck. Did you happen to search their pockets?”

“All but one,” Duvall said, breathy, like a basketball Pink once stabbed with a hunting knife.

“We didn’t search the passenger up front,” Pink said. “But I blew him away as soon as he got out of the truck. He never made it back to where the diamonds were.”

“There must have been some kind of hidden compartment,” Duvall said.

Moffit shook his head. “We’re talking about one of my trucks. There are no hidden compartments. You’re sure Millner didn’t have the stones on him when that sheriff killed him?”