Seeing Red(124)

“You must admit,” Hank said, “his method worked for decades.”

“Centuries. It’s Machiavellian. Not original but effective, and you took your cue. You showed him. You killed his daughter.”

“Not I, of course.”

“Right. We concluded that you’re too chicken-livered. Who’d you send to do it?”

“I had shown the path of righteousness to a former drug user.”

“Cost of redemption: one murder.”

Hank’s smile turned angelic. “God works in mysterious ways.”

“So does the devil.” Trapper’s smile was more like the latter’s. “Remember when I said you were screwed and didn’t even know it? Well, you didn’t sign Wilcox’s pledge, so the feds don’t have your signature. But they do have—because I handed it over to them—a list Wilcox conveniently typed and alphabetized. Now, take a wild guess whose name he added?”

Wilcox had done no such thing. Hank’s name hadn’t been on the roster, but maybe Hank would believe it was. It was very like something Wilcox would have done out of sheer spite.

“Sorry, Hank,” Trapper said with feigned regret and took a step toward him.

Hank jabbed the rifle forward. “You’re lying.”

“You can kill me, but the FBI still has those names, and Kerra can testify as to how I came by them. She can attest to everything.”

“Then I’m doubly glad she beat it up here to cover The Major’s release from the hospital.”

Trapper’s stomach plunged. “What?”

“Oh, I see you’re taken aback,” he mocked. “You didn’t know that.” Then, “Kerra?”

She appeared in the doorway between the living room and the hall. Jenks’s left hand was wrapped around her biceps. In his right was a revolver, the caliber of which you didn’t argue with.

Kerra’s lips were almost white with fear, but she was putting up a brave front. “Gracie gave me your message. I tried to reach you.”

“The phone ran out of juice.”

“They warned The Major and me that if we signaled you that I was here, we would all die.”

“I think that’s the plan anyway.” Trapper gave her only a half smile, but he hoped she realized that it was brimming with apology and regret.

“Jenks, bring her over here,” Hank said. Jenks propelled her forward, and when she was within reach, Hank took her arm and jerked her in front of him, facing Trapper. “Take hold of the rifle.”

“Go to hell,” she said and elbowed him in the stomach.

Acting instinctively, Trapper lurched forward.

Hank yelled, “Jenks! Shoot him!”

“Wait!” Trapper froze and raised his hands higher. “Leave Kerra alone, you can do with me whatever.”

Hank, breathing with exertion—excitement?—said, “Well, that’s real generous of you, Trapper, but you’re in no position to dictate terms, seeing as how I have all the advantages here. Tell Kerra to take hold of the rifle.”

Trapper glanced at Jenks, who had moved to stand at The Major’s side. Any of them made an easy target for his revolver. Coming back to Kerra, he bobbed his head. “Do as he says.”

Eyes locked on Trapper’s, she allowed Hank to place her hands where he wanted them and secured them with his own. Her left supported the barrel, her right was wrapped around the trigger guard. Hank’s finger remained crooked around the trigger itself.

Looking at Trapper from over Kerra’s shoulder, Hank chuckled. “It was the darnedest stroke of luck. I was about to leave the hospital with The Major tucked into my van when she drove into the parking lot. I invited her to ride along with us and told her she could call her crew to meet us out here. Except—”

“Except that when I tried to make the call,” Kerra said, “he backhanded me and took my phone.”

Trapper settled an icy gaze on Hank. “I’m going to have to kill you after all.” He glanced over his shoulder and spotted his holster on the floor two yards away. He knew a bullet was chambered, but how to get the pistol out of the holster …

Reading his thoughts, Jenks said, “I don’t advise it.”

“Better heed him, Trapper,” Hank said. “Being a lawman, he’s got lots of tricks up his sleeve.”

“Tricks like planting evidence to frame a white-trash parole violator for attempted murder?”

“That’s the least of Jenks’s talents,” Hank said. “He can make people disappear without a trace.”

“The Pit.”

“Your bodies will never be discovered.”

“Like that of his partner Sunday night?”

“Petey Moss,” Hank said.

“Who was the third?” Kerra asked.

“Wasn’t a third.” That from Jenks.

“Yes, there was.” Trapper directed Kerra’s attention to The Major.

She looked down at him, her lips parting with bewilderment. Wearily, he nodded. “He’s right.”

Trapper wished he could take satisfaction from his father’s admission. He couldn’t. He said to Kerra, “The day I came here, I figured out it had to have been him who tried to open that door before you heard the shot. But I couldn’t reason why. No, let me rephrase.” He looked down at his father. “I didn’t want to reason why. I get it now.”