Seeing Red(13)

“If you start nitpicking, then—”

“I repeat. What did you get?”

“I emailed it all about thirty minutes ago.”

“Thanks, but I’m driving,” Trapper lied. “Can you give me the bullet points?”

Carson huffed in exasperation but began. “When she was five years old, she was adopted by her aunt and uncle.”

“Do you know what happened to her real parents?”

“Court records of the adoption were sealed.”

The aunt and uncle truly had protected her identity and history. “Okay.”

“Grew up middle class. Apple pie Americana. No scandal. Straight and narrow and boring, if you want to know the truth.”

“Okay.”

“She attended junior college in her home town in Virginia before transferring to Columbia.”

“South Carolina?”

“No, Columbia University in New York. Graduated with a BA in journalism. She hopped around to various and sundry TV stations, never staying long at one before moving on, always to a larger market, till she landed this gig in Dallas early last year. Local network affiliate. She gets a lot of face time. Network uses her for regional stories that go national. There’s a bunch of her stuff on YouTube.”

Trapper didn’t admit to having watched hours of it.

“I have her car tag and driver’s license numbers.”

“If they’re in the email, I don’t need them now.”

Carson rumbled on. “She lives in downtown Dallas, one of those glassy condo buildings near Victory Park.”

Trapper didn’t tell Carson he’d just been there, but he did ask, “Alone?”

“The condo’s in her name, and that’s the only name on the mailbox. I made up some gobbledygook and talked to the concierge of her building. No roommate since she’s lived there. Let’s see … what else? Oh, she was arrested once in Seattle.”

“What for?”

“Protest march. There were numerous arrests. At her arraignment, she pled guilty, paid the fine.”

“What was she protesting?”

“A colleague was jailed for contempt of court because he wouldn’t reveal a source. She was guilty of passion for her profession and First Amendment rights, and that’s as sinister as she gets, Trapper.

“She’s square with the IRS. No debt other than her mortgage. Pays her bills on time. She’s ambitious. She’s got the goods. I gather an interview with The Major would be a real plum. End of story.”

Like hell it is, Trapper thought. “Anything else?”

“Nothing noteworthy. Bits and pieces. You want details, they’re in the email.”

“Thanks, Carson.”

“Can I get back to honeymooning now?”

“Just one more request.”

Carson groaned.

Trapper said, “Do this and then you can screw yourself blind.”





Chapter 4




Kerra brought her car to a stop within a few feet of the black SUV parked crosswise in the drive that led up to Major Franklin Trapper’s house. She left the motor running as she got out and cautiously approached the driver’s side of the truck.

Trapper, watching her through the side mirror, saw in her face the instant she recognized him as the person in the driver’s seat. She marched the rest of the way, and when she came even with the door, knocked hard on the window.

He lowered it. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Testing you, to see if you meant it when you said you’d do this with or without my help. I didn’t think you’d be that foolish, but since it appears that you are …” He hitched his head back toward her car. “Follow me.”

She hesitated as though trying to decide whether to kill him, yell at him, or take advantage of his being here. She went with option three. She turned and stalked back to her car.

He waited until she was once again behind the wheel before dropping the SUV into forward gear and starting up the gravel drive.

The Major’s ranch house sat on a rise surrounded by a grove of trees now bare of leaves except for the conifers. Constructed of limestone and timber, the house was one-story with a steeply pitched roof. Square columns supported the overhang above the deep porch that ran the width of the house.

Trapper brought the SUV to a stop a short distance from the front steps and looked at each tall window along the porch. He was certain The Major was watching their approach through one of them, but he couldn’t see him because of the glare.

Kerra joined him as he alighted from the SUV. “Whose truck is this?”

“I borrowed it from a buddy.” Carson had come through on the second favor, setting Trapper up with a garage and body shop that would loan him a vehicle while his car was being repaired. Mounted on a monstrous set of off-road tires, the truck was tricked out with all the bells and whistles.

Kerra was gawking with appreciation at The Major’s house and surrounding landscape. “Would you look at this?” she murmured.

“I’ve seen it. You ready?”

She tilted her head back and used her hand to shade her eyes against the western sun. “It pains me to say it, Trapper, but I’m glad you’re with me. I’ve suddenly got stage fright. Thank you for coming.”