Bone Rattle by Marc Cameron (best ereader for pdf .TXT) 📕

as either woman knew, Arliss was still unaware that a former member of his Army Ranger unit had spilled the beans about the horrific events from their last mission in Afghanistan – the murder of a small child that they had witnessed but had been unable to prevent. It wasn’t their fault, but the guilt of the killing weighed heavy on every member of the team – chiefly on Arliss, the man who’d been in charge. Though he’d never been one to suffer a bully, the little girl’s senseless death had, in large part, formed Cutter into a man who would not abide bad behavior toward a weaker human being – for a single second, no matter the consequences.

Phillips shook her head, deep in her own thoughts.

Mim found herself mesmerized by the amazingly beautiful splash of freckles over the woman’s nose.

“He seems the same to me,” the chief said. “Though, I guess that’s to be expected. Just because we know what happened to him doesn’t make him all better.”

“I hope it helps us understand him,” Mim said.

“Me too,” Phillips said. “Sometimes, he just seems so…”

“What?” Mim prodded, surprised at her own directness.

“I can’t put my finger on it,” Phillips said. “I was going to say ‘sad,’ but I’m not sure that covers it. Maybe numb is the right word.”

“Hollow?”

“Could be that,” Phillips said.

“You know he’s been married four times, right?”

Phillips gave a tired chuckle. “I guess that would hollow out the best of us.”

“You got that right,” Mim said. “The first three were oddballs. Girls with problems Arliss thought he could fix. He couldn’t, of course, because they didn’t want to be fixed. His last wife was different, though. She was sweet. Passed away from breast cancer a couple of years ago. I think her death nearly killed him.”

“I’ve seen her photo in his office,” Phillips said. “She looks…”

“I know.” Mim gave a resigned sigh. “Like me?”

“Sorry,” Phillips said. “You must get that a lot.”

“Arliss likes to pretend it wasn’t so,” Mim said, “but I do have to admit he has a type. Barbara was a good soul. I think they could have been really happy – but in the end, she turned out to be another person he was helpless to save.”

“You know,” Phillips said. “Men like Arliss… strike that… people like Arliss don’t come along very often. In some ways, I look at him and think, ‘I can tell where I stand with this guy,’ and then later I realize there’s this whole undercurrent going on behind that grouchy demeanor that I just cannot get a read on.”

“I know,” Mim said, laughing out loud. “His grandfather was the same way.”

“Wish I could have known Grumpy Cutter,” Phillips said.

“You know Arliss,” Mim said. “So you kind of do.”

“Anyway,” Phillips sighed. “I should get back. I am glad you decided to go to Juneau.”

Cutter came up the escalator just then, pulling two roller bags. Lola Teariki, thick black hair piled in a frizzy bun, was a couple of steps behind him. Cutter caught Mim’s eye, stone faced.

“See that?” the chief whispered. “He would have smiled at you if I hadn’t been here.”

“You think?”

“Look, Mim,” Phillips said. “It’s absolutely none of my business, but I’d like to think that Arliss and I would be good friends were it not for the whole boss, subordinate thing. You two have been dealt some shitty hands lately. Don’t worry about what you believe other people are thinking. Arliss doesn’t talk much, but he and I have worked together enough that I can put two and two together. A woman can see things in a guy’s face, you know. You’ve known each other since you were sixteen, so I imagine you can see it too.”

Mim nodded.

“You deserve to be happy – even if it’s with your brother-in-law.”

Mim almost snorted. “The thing is,” she said, almost to herself, “the me I am now sure ain’t the same person he had a crush on back in Manasota Key.” She shook her head. “I imagine he’s past all that.”

“Maybe so.” Phillips gave a little shrug, unconvinced. “I’m telling you this woman-to-woman, not chief to deputy’s sister-in-law. That guy is…”

“What?” Mim prodded, slightly dizzy to hear someone else speak of her and Arliss in the same sentence.

“Let me put it like this,” Phillips said. “After your husband died, prayers and faith – your religion – saw you through the toughest times…”

“That’s right,” Mim whispered.

“Well, my dear.” Phillips put a hand on Mim’s shoulder. “You have your church, but you are Arliss Cutter’s religion – and I think you have been for a very long time.”

Cutter’s preferred seat – other than when he was lucky enough to be upgraded to first class – was 8C, an aisle, toward the front, on the left side of the airplane. This gave him a little room for his knees, put his gun hand on the outside, and kept the Colt from digging into another passenger’s ribs. The aisle location also allowed Cutter to get up quickly if the need arose during the flight. Federal Air Marshals – a completely different agency than man-hunting US Marshals – handled law enforcement incidents aboard aircraft, but they didn’t have people aboard every flight. Crews knew who was armed and where they were seated, and usually weren’t shy about asking for help if a passenger got out of hand. Post 9/11, everyone seemed happy for the extra layer of security. In addition to Cutter and Lola, this flight carried two other deputies from the ops side of the Marshals Service in Anchorage, a special agent with National Marine Fisheries, an Alaska State Trooper major, and two US Forest Service LEOs. There were so many gun-toters on board that Cutter almost wished someone would try something.

Mim sat across the aisle in 8D, wanting to keep a tight rein on the twins. She’d reasoned that if they absent-mindedly kicked the seats ahead of them and that passenger got angry and said anything, then Arliss would have to beat