Seeing Red(28)

“Not gonna happen, Glenn.”

“Not overnight, but given time, maybe.” Glenn regarded him for a moment. “When he went from being just Frank Trapper to the hero, things changed for you, too. He took to celebrity and ran with it. I felt sorry for Debra having to either follow in his wake or get left behind altogether. But I felt even sorrier for you. I can tell you that now.”

“No boo-hoos for me, thank you.”

“That’s my point. You rode it out. Finished growing up without any serious missteps and turned out okay. Your life was on track, and things seemed to be fine between you and The Major. Till you left the ATF. Y’all had more than a falling out. It was a severance.”

“As you said, it tore him up. He couldn’t forgive my failure.”

“What did you fail at? What were you working on?”

“That’s classified, Glenn. I can’t talk about it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, I won’t talk about it.”

Glenn stared at him hard, not with a friend’s or surrogate dad’s eyes, but with those of a lawman seeking truth behind a lie. “Your quarrel with The Major was over you leaving the bureau. That’s it?”

Trapper tried to keep his expression unreadable. “That’s it.”

Glenn still looked like he didn’t believe him, but eventually he stood and put his hat on. “I’m gonna check in with the office. You staying?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna hang around until they let me see him.”

Glenn placed a firm hand on Trapper’s shoulder. “The hell of it is, you love him.”

Trapper didn’t say anything. Glenn nodded understanding, removed his hand, and left him.

When he was out of earshot, Trapper murmured, “That is the hell of it.”



Kerra had hoped the dawn would bring some relief from the terrible night.

But the day began with the discovery that her shoulder bag had been misplaced and no one seemed to know what had happened to it.

Using the hospital phone on her nightstand, she called Gracie and explained the situation. An hour later, Gracie Lambert walked into her hospital room, carrying a shopping bag in each hand.

She was a familiar and welcome sight with her nimbus of salt-and-pepper hair and eyeglasses with bright orange frames. Her demeanor could be either maternal or martial, and she could switch between the two in a heartbeat, a skill that made her an excellent producer. This morning she was in motherly mode.

“God, it’s good to see you,” she said. “We’ve been so worried. The others wanted to come with me, but I didn’t think you needed a mob scene.”

“Not this morning,” Kerra said. “But I appreciate their concern. Did you ask them about my bag?”

“Yes, and it was unanimous. After the interview was finished, we packed up all the gear and loaded it into the van. You kept your bag with you.”

Kerra had known that to be the case, but she’d clung to the faint hope that she wasn’t remembering correctly. Now, with the crew members’ verification that she’d had the bag with her, she was both disturbed and desolate.

Gracie asked, “Are you sure the hospital staff hasn’t stashed it somewhere?”

“Everything I had on me was collected in the ER and put into a plastic bag. The bag accompanied me to this room and was placed in the closet. I buzzed a nurse first thing this morning. My lips were dry, and I asked her to fetch the lip salve out of my makeup kit. No makeup kit, no shoulder bag. Everything else was there, even my ruined clothes and shoes.”

“The police must have it.”

“Two detectives from the sheriff’s office were here earlier. They questioned me for an hour, until the doctor stopped by on his rounds and ran them out. They’re coming back after lunch. In the meantime, they promised to check with the first responders, but they didn’t hold out hope that my bag would turn up. They have a log of the evidence collected from The Major’s house, and the only thing belonging to me is my coat, which was on a living room chair.”

“No Louis Vuitton.”

Kerra shook her head.

“It’s not like that thing could be easily overlooked, either,” Gracie said. “It’s huge. How much cash were you carrying?”

“Not enough to cry over.”

“Anything of real value?”

“The bag is more valuable than anything in it.”

“At least you have this.” Gracie passed Kerra her laptop. “You did leave it in the van while we were doing the interview. I gather you’ve got passwords stored for credit cards and such.”

Kerra nodded absently. Canceling the cards would be a tedious project, but far more worrisome was that if the perpetrators had her bag, they had access to her: personal things that she used every day, her calendar, phone, key ring, driver’s license and all the information on it. In essence they’d have an open gateway into her life.

“Here’s your new phone.” Gracie handed her one of the shopping bags from a local supermarket. “Not as high tech as what you’re used to, but it’ll get you through the next few days. The number showed up in the LED, so I have it. Give it an hour or more to fully charge. I also picked up some toiletries.”

“Thank you.” Kerra placed the sacks aside, too upset over the missing shoulder bag to be distracted by either the new phone or personal hygiene.