Page 75 of Mack

He looked up. Cain Weber was in the doorway, coat on, ready to head out.

“Hey, Cain.”

“You good?”

Mack leaned back in his chair. “Hell, if I know.”

Cain nodded slowly. “Woman problems?”

“What else.”

“Well.” Cain straightened up. “I’d offer advice, but it wouldn’t be worth a damn and we both know it.”

“You’re useless.”

“I am. I’ll see you out there.”

“Later.”

Mack watched him go and almost smiled.

Cain had started around the same time Mack did, and he’d liked him immediately. No nonsense, good instincts, didn’t talk more than necessary. The type of man you wanted beside you on a bad call. Mack trusted him without reservation, which in his experience was not something that came easily or often.

He turned his computer on and got to work. It didn’t stop him thinking about her. But it helped.

He couldn’t look Troy up without cause. No warrant, no complaint, no official reason. Running a personal search was misconduct and Sam would have his badge for it, and rightly so.

“Damn it.”

He pushed back from the desk.

It had to be Troy. Nothing else made sense. She’d told him she was crazy about him. She’d said same in the dark of her bedroom like it had cost her something to admit it. You didn’t say that and then change your mind overnight without a reason.

And the reason had a name.

He turned it over. She was too afraid to tell him, which meant Troy had threatened someone. Not her, or not only her. She’d stood up to him before. She’d walked out. She’d filed for divorce. She was braver than she gave herself credit for.

So, he’d threatened someone else.

T.J. Her parents. Mack himself.

He sat very still for a moment.

Then he stood up, took his hat and coat down, and put them on.

He had no grounds to pull a record. But there was only one place in Clifton a man like Troy Simmons would be staying, and that was Dalton’s Motel. He didn’t need a warrant to drive past it. He headed for the lot.

As he pulled into the motel parking lot a man stepped out of one of the rooms and crossed toward the trucks parked along the far end. Mack slowed, pulled into a spot near the entrance, and cut his lights.

He didn’t know if this was Simmons. But he took photos, anyway, keeping his phone low.

The man climbed into a truck and pulled out of the lot. Mack waited, let him get some distance, then followed.

He hung back. Far enough not to spook him, close enough not to lose him. When the truck turned onto the main road Mack stayed a few cars behind, keeping his eyes on it without being obvious about it.

At a light he eased left just enough to get a clear line on the license plate. He raised his phone, enlarged the screen, and snapped several photos before the light changed and he moved back into his lane.

He didn’t know yet what he was going to do with any of this. But he felt better having it.