Seeing Red(23)

Trapper hooked his foot around the leg of a chair, pulled it nearer the bed, and sat down. He planted his elbows on his thighs, tented his hands, and held them against his chin as he studied her. “Who said that?”

“The man who shot him. He thought he’d killed him. So did I.”

A tear slid from the outer corner of her eye and trickled toward her hairline. His eyes followed its path then held steady on her face, while her image of him was doubling and quadrupling, making her seasick.

“Tell me everything, Kerra. Talk me through it.”

“I can’t, Trapper. Not now. I’m dizzy. The doctor said I shouldn’t have visitors.”

“He didn’t say it to me.”

“I’m saying it to you.”

Actually, she didn’t want to be alone, but she also didn’t want to be pressured to answer questions right now.

He said, “When I came in, you were having a panic attack.”

“Yes.”

“What brought it on?”

“Nothing specific. I was fully conscious for the first time. Alone and aware of being alone. I got frightened. It all came rushing back, and I …”

“Felt you were in mortal danger again?”

“Yes.”

“Any flashbacks to the Pegasus bombing?”

“No. It was all about last night. I was in the powder room again and fearing whoever was on the other side of the door.” She thought back to the latch being shaken to test if it was locked. The soft, metallic rattling had been as menacing as that of an unseen diamondback.

Feeling the weight of Trapper’s stare, she collected herself. “The panic has passed. I’m fine now.”

He looked down at her hand. It was still gripping the sheet. She forced her fingers to relax and let go of the cloth.

“Did Glenn figure right?” he asked. “You escaped through the window?”

“That’s when I dislocated my shoulder.”

“What were you doing in the bathroom?”

“What one usually does in the bathroom.”

“You weren’t hiding?”

“Not at first.”

“Not at first.” His inflection was a prompt for her to elaborate. “You went to use the bathroom and …? Then what?”

“Trapper, please, I don’t feel up to talking about it yet. It’s too fresh. In a couple of days when I have some distance from it—”

“It will take more than a couple of days for you to gain distance from it, and I don’t want distance from it. I want to hear it while it’s fresh.”

“But my recollections are all jumbled up.”

“Did you put Glenn’s number in your phone?”

“What?” Her mind was hazy with confusion, then she remembered. “Yes, I did.”

“If you were in fear, why didn’t you call him?”

Yes, why hadn’t she? When she’d added the sheriff’s number to her speed dial, she’d done it only to honor her promise to Trapper that she would. He had said, I’m not joking. But she hadn’t taken the statement as a warning. Not until now. There were disturbing implications to that lurking just beyond her ability to reason them out. She couldn’t identify and contemplate them until she had a clearer head.

She said, “I don’t feel well. Besides, until I’m questioned by the authorities, I don’t think I should talk about it to anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone. The man clinging to life upstairs is my father.”

“I know this is very personal for you, but there are proper police procedures to adhere to.”

“Well, you’re half right. There are proper police procedures, but they don’t have to be adhered to. In fact, I’m not big on procedures in general, and proper ones in particular.”

“Then we can all be glad that you’re not investigating the case.”

“What gave you that idea?” He stood up slowly, planted his fists on the edge of the mattress, and leaned over her. “Kerra, who did you see out there?”

“No one.”

He continued to stare at her, his eyes hard, incisive, unmoved by her firm denial.

“No one,” she repeated. “I didn’t see anything.”

He stayed where he was for a ponderous length of time, then straightened up and headed for the door.

She struggled to lever herself into a half-sitting position. “Trapper, I swear I didn’t. Don’t you believe me?”

“Doesn’t matter if I believe you. Only matters if they do.”

“The police?”

“No, the men who were there.”





Chapter 7




By the time I got over to the window, she was racing away from the house. You know how dark it can get out there. It was like she was swallowed by it.” Petey Moss’s knee was jiggling beneath the table on which were strewn the contents of Kerra Bailey’s shoulder bag.

The man rifling through the articles pulled a plastic card from one of the slits in a flat wallet and flipped it onto the table. “Fitness club membership.”

Petey looked relieved. “That explains it. Conditioning. No wonder she can run like a deer.”

“I still don’t see how she escaped you.”