Seeing Red(36)

“Yeah, I know.”

“She was instructed—”

“Don’t blame her. I browbeat her into talking about it.”

When he stopped with that, Glenn prodded him. “Well? Wha’d she say?”

“She described what it was like for her inside the powder room. Her fear. Knowing she would die if the individuals on the other side of the door got to her. She used nickel words, Glenn.”

The sheriff shot him a look. “Fuck does that mean?”

“As opposed to fifty-cent words, which would have led me to believe they were chosen ahead of time and rehearsed, that she was trying to impress me or that she was lying. She wasn’t that smooth.”

“But what? You’re frowning.”

“But …” Trapper sighed and shook his head in frustration. He was frowning because he sensed Kerra was holding something back, something that made her afraid. He was frowning because of all the names Carson could have dropped this morning, the name had been Thomas Wilcox. Who had crossed paths with Kerra. Which could be a bizarre coincidence. Or not. In any case, it raised the hair on the back of Trapper’s neck.

“You think she saw more than she’s telling?” Glenn asked.

“I don’t know.”

Glenn reentered the hospital parking lot and pulled the patrol car into the fire lane, where he set it to idle. “John, listen to me.”

“Stay out of it,” Trapper said, anticipating what Glenn had been about to say.

“That’s right. Stay out of it. You can’t go meddling in this investigation.”

“I’m a licensed investigator.”

“And the victim is your father. I don’t care what your beef was with him, you can’t be objective.”

“I don’t have a need for objectivity, because I have no intention of meddling in the investigation. So where’s this lecture coming from?”

“It’s coming from private, late-night visits to the material witness that lasted forty-three minutes.”

Trapper muttered a swear word. “Good man, Jenks. But for the record, it was only forty-two and a half.”

“It took Linda and me a whole lot less time to conceive Hank.”

“Really? You’re that quick on the draw?”

The sheriff turned in his seat, squeezing his paunch beneath the steering wheel. “John, for once, please—”

“Do yourself a favor,” Trapper said, again anticipating the next words out of Glenn’s mouth. “You don’t call me John unless the subject is serious or you’re about to impart unsolicited advice.”

“Okay, be a smart-ass. But I’m going to say this, and you’re going to hear it. Don’t rile the wrong people. You did that once, and look what happened.”

“I quit.”

“Whatever, you lost your job. Didn’t you learn anything from that?”

“Yeah. I learned that I put up with that bureaucratic bullshit for much longer than I should have.”

“Oh, like you’re the epitome of happiness in the workplace these days?”

Trapper gnawed the inside of his cheek, then reached for the door latch and popped it. “I’ve got someplace to be.”

“Where?”

“Someplace else.”



It took all morning for Kerra to be released from the hospital. Five minutes were devoted to the doctor’s final physical exam, five hours to signing all the dismissal forms. By the time she’d completed the paperwork, she felt more like crawling back into the bed than leaving under the escort of two deputies.

They drove her directly from the hospital to the sheriff’s office in the courthouse, where she was led into an interrogation room. Two Texas Rangers and Sheriff Addison himself were waiting for her there.

She and the sheriff shook hands. “You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you,” he said.

“I’m feeling better. Has there been any change in The Major’s condition?”

“Actually, there’s good news.” He shared what he knew and held up crossed fingers. “Baby steps. But thirty-six hours ago we didn’t think he’d live through the night.”

She splayed her hand over her chest. “I’m so glad to hear this.”

During their exchange the Rangers had been standing by. The sheriff introduced her to them now. All took seats around a table and, after explaining to her that the session was being recorded, one of the Rangers took the lead.

“We’ve spoken to the detectives, Ms. Bailey, but this time we’re hearing it straight from you. For our benefit, please start at the beginning, and tell us everything you remember.”

“My story hasn’t deviated from the first time I told it,” she said. “Except for one detail. Well, actually two details. I’m not sure what significance either has.”

Looking interested and mildly surprised, the sheriff clasped his large hands together on the table. “Let’s hear ’em. We’ll determine their significance.”

Her wish was that they would dismiss both as being of no importance. But she didn’t believe they would. Her palms turned damp. “One involves the sequence of events.”

She related how someone had tried opening the powder room door before she heard the gunshot. “Everything happened in rapid succession after that. Because of the meds, the concussion, when I gave my account to the detectives I got the timing mixed up.”