“But my—”
“That’s an order.”
Before Dixie could argue anymore, he reached up and grabbed the limb and pulled himself into the tree. Like everything else he did, he seemed to be an expert at climbing trees. He avoided the burning branches until he got high enough so he could move over. When he was on the branch just beneath Queenie, he called down.
“She won’t come to me and I can’t go up to get her. My weight will break the branch.”
Dixie stomped her foot in frustration. “That stubborn cat. I wish we had her cat treats. She’d come for those.”
“Or if Lincoln was Luke Bryan,” Cheyenne said. “Queenie would follow Luke anywhere.”
“Luke Bryan. Of course.” Dixie pulled out her phone and tapped it until she found what she wanted. Then she turned up the volume and held her phone over her head so Queenie could hear it.
It took until the second verse of “Drunk on You” for Luke to finally draw Queenie’s attention. The cat got up and daintily jumped from branch to branch until she finally landed on the ground at Dixie’s feet. Dixie scooped her up and held her tightly as she called to Lincoln. “I got her. You can come down.”
Lincoln agilely made his way down until he reached the lowest branch and his boots slipped out from under him. He fell out of the tree and onto his back with a muffled grunt.
Dixie handed Queenie to Cheyenne and raced over to kneel next to him. “Oh my God, Lincoln, are you okay? Did you break a bone? Your back? Lincoln, talk to me.”
He sucked in a wheezy breath before he spoke. “Luke Bryan? Are you kidding me?”
The volunteer fire department finally arrived. It was too late for the mobile home, but the two men and one woman did a good job of saving the oak tree. Only two branches burned before they put the fire out.
While they worked to make sure there were no live embers left on the tree or in the trailer, Lincoln and Dixie interrogated every person at the trailer park to see if they had seen anyone messing around the Dailys’ trailer. No one had, and Dixie started to doubt Cheyenne’s story even more . . . until she found a hole cut in the chain link fencing right behind the Dailys’ trailer. When she climbed through the opening into the field, she discovered fresh tire marks in the red mud. She took numerous pictures with her phone’s camera before she called for Lincoln.
“Someone obviously didn’t want to be seen coming in the front gate,” Lincoln said as he examined the tire tracks. He stood and smiled at her. “Good job, Deputy.”
The praise made Dixie feel a little giddy. She couldn’t help the swagger in her step when they headed back to the opening in the fence. “Now all we need to do is figure out the motive. Why would someone what to burn down the Dailys’ trailer? And with Cheyenne in it?”
“My guess is that they didn’t know Cheyenne was in it. She should’ve been at school.” Lincoln held the fence back so she could get through and she did the same when she got to the other side. He bent to follow and grimaced.
“You did hurt your back, didn’t you?” she said.
He ducked through the hole in the fence. “I’m sure it’s just a strained muscle. It will be fine.”
As they searched around the back of the Dailys’ trailer, she couldn’t help asking, “You don’t think this has anything to do with Sam Sweeney, do you?”
“Unlikely. I doubt the Dailys even knew Sam. Cheyenne’s grandmother lived clear out here and Cal had probably already moved to Abilene by then. But it’s a good question to ask Cal when he gets home.”
Cal arrived only minutes later. He looked completely stunned when he got out of his truck and saw the shell of his mother’s house. Cheyenne had gone over to the neighbor’s trailer with Queenie, but she must have been watching for her father because she came running out and hugged him. Cal hugged her back and tucked his face into her shoulder—no doubt hiding his tears. The sight just about broke Dixie’s heart.
“Those poor folks. They have been through so much in the last year,” she said. “Now they’ve lost their home.”
“It could’ve been worse. Cal could’ve lost Cheyenne. Things can be replaced. People can’t.”
She glanced over at him and her heart broke even more. She had always known Lincoln was a strong man. She just hadn’t known how strong until she found out about his childhood. He was the definition of a survivor. He had survived the loss of both parents and child abuse and had still become a good man.
A good man Dixie had accused of murder.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”
He glanced over at her. “Don’t apologize, Dixie. You were right to suspect me. I am a prime suspect. And just because I gave you a sob story doesn’t mean you should let me off the hook. Good law officers never let their emotions get in the way of doing their job.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?”
“That’s what a good deputy would do until she knows for a fact that I’m not guilty.”
“I know for a fact you’re not guilty, Lincoln.”
“How’s that?”
“No murderer would climb up a tree to save a cat.”
He shook his head. “That had nothing to do with that crazy cat. It had to do with me not wanting you to break your fool neck.”
“My point exactly. I’ve given you plenty of reasons to want me gone, and yet you were still worried about me.”
His dark eyes stared back at her from the shadow of his Stetson. “You’ve kinda
