Seeing Red(76)

“I told him the last time I saw Petey he was talking about cooling his heels in Tennessee for a while, but I agreed that it wasn’t like him to leave town without giving his boss notice and settling his lease.” He motioned at the report. “I thought you oughta know.”

“I’ll put somebody on it right away,” Glenn said. But he didn’t. He slid the form into a stack of other unattended-to paperwork and sipped from his mug of coffee. “Now to the real problem.”

Without even having to think about it, Jenks said, “Trapper.”



“They won’t let us see The Major at this hour,” Kerra said as she and Trapper stepped off the elevator on the ICU floor of the hospital.

“I won’t ask permission. If necessary, I’ll beg forgiveness.”

He had to do neither. They waited until someone exited the pneumatic doors and slipped through before they closed. The corridor was empty. Unobserved, they went into The Major’s room. It was lighted only by the glow of the various machines to which he was still attached. He was sleeping.

“This is the first time I’ve seen him since it happened,” Kerra whispered. “It comes as a shock. The last time I saw him, he was his robust self.”

“Stunned me to see him like this, too,” Trapper said. “The white whiskers really threw me.”

“I talked to him this morning—”

“It was yesterday morning.”

At the sound of his voice, both she and Trapper reacted with surprise and moved closer to the bed. The Major opened his eyes. She smiled down at him. “I stand corrected. It was yesterday. I’ve lost all track of time.”

He seesawed a look between them. “What have you been up to since we talked?”

Rather than address the question, Trapper asked how he was feeling.

“Fair to middling.”

“You’d look better if you’d lose the scraggly beard.”

“You could stand a shave yourself.”

Kerra interceded. “Are you eating yet?”

“Tomorrow. Broth and applesauce. I can hardly wait.”

“It’s progress,” Trapper said.

“Too slow.”

He told them he’d been tested on mobility, dexterity, and coordination, language retention and memory, and had passed all. “They did another brain scan today, looking for bleeders. None were found.”

“That all sounds good,” Trapper said. “How’s the breathing?”

“Better at times than at others. I’m still so damn weak.”

Hearing the discouragement in his tone, and knowing how the former soldier had prided himself on staying fit and strong, Kerra patted his shoulder. “Don’t rush it.”

“I don’t have a choice.” He looked her over carefully. “You seem to have come through it without any noticeable damage.”

“Yes, most of my scratches—”

“I wasn’t referring to Sunday. I was talking about the time you’ve spent with John.”

Although she wasn’t sure whether he’d meant that as a joke, she treated it as one. “Granted. He can be a real pain in the butt.”

But The Major was no longer looking at her. He was looking at Trapper. “Back to my original question, what have you been up to?”

“What do you know about Thomas Wilcox?”

Kerra hadn’t expected Trapper to bring up Wilcox so soon, and The Major seemed as struck by his blunt question as she. His eyebrows drew together above the bridge of his nose. “Dallas real estate? That Thomas Wilcox?”

“Do you know him?”

“I met him once. He attended a banquet where I delivered the after-dinner speech. He came up afterward and introduced himself.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting.”

“Why?”

“How’d he act?”

“Act? As I recall, he was very pleasant.”

“Did he mention the Pegasus?”

“Only in the context of complimenting me on my talk.” The Major looked over at Kerra before going back to Trapper. “Why bring him up?”

“You ever hear any dirt on him?”

“No. But he and I hardly run in the same circles.”

“Shady business practices? Winner take all? Hear anything like that?”

“I wouldn’t have had occasion to.”

“Did you know he coveted the plot of ground under the Pegasus Hotel?”

Kerra watched The Major’s expression grow increasingly stern as he began to grasp Trapper’s meaning. “What are you driving at, John?”

“Go back a year or two before the bombing and scan through the business sections of the Dallas Morning News. It’s well documented how Wilcox tried like hell to acquire that property. No dice. Oil company didn’t want to sell.” He paused before adding, “But Wilcox wound up with it after all.”

The Major stared at his son for a moment, then put his middle finger and thumb to his eye sockets in a manner that reminded Kerra of Trapper when he was forced to think about something he’d rather not.

“Three years ago,” The Major said, “when you came to me with your theory of a mastermind behind the bombing, you refused to give me a name. Please don’t tell me that Thomas Wilcox, a millionaire—”