Seeing Red(90)

Except for the damage left in its wake, no one would have known it had been there, raging but aimless.

Trapper continued up the drive toward the house. One end of a strip of crime scene tape had come loose. The yellow ribbon snapped in the wind, whisking the windshield as he brought Kerra’s car to a stop just short of the porch.

He left the engine running when he got out. The front door was locked, but he knew where The Major had always kept the spare key, and it was there, resting on the third support to the left under the eaves.

The crime scene techs had been thorough. There were markings on the floor where measurements had been taken. Tiny plastic tents in varying colors showed where pieces of evidence had been collected. Black dust coated articles from which fingerprints had been lifted.

He avoided touching anything as he made his way first into the kitchen. He gave it a cursory glance, seeing nothing in it to indicate that it had been an area of interest to the investigators.

Leaving it, he crossed the main room and entered the hallway. The door to the powder room was missing, taken as evidence, battered latch and all. The window through which Kerra had escaped was intact, the upper and lower sections locked together. He marveled that she could have squeezed through a space so small, but then panic and adrenaline enabled people to accomplish amazing feats.

He continued down the hall. He’d never lived in this house, but when The Major and his mother had moved to Lodal from Dallas, she’d designated a guest bedroom as Trapper’s room, making it homey and personal to encourage frequent visits. The wall opposite the bed served as a photo gallery with all the pictures framed identically and attractively arranged.

Trapper stood before it now and studied the collection that more or less chronicled his life. He could have marked the year of the Pegasus Hotel bombing just by looking at the photographs.

In the pictures taken before it, his dad was beside him, hand on his shoulder, grinning proudly into the camera as they held between them a fishing pole sporting a catch, an athletic trophy won at summer camp, a Boy Scout sash with badges attached. Snapshots captured other such milestone markers up to age eleven.

In the pictures taken after that, Trapper was alone.

The bedroom had been left undisturbed by the investigators. Trapper touched nothing in it now. Although the room had been prepared for him, he was never homesick for it. The things in it belonged to him, but he felt no emotional connection to anything, no compulsion to claim ownership. They were stage props.

He went out and closed the door behind him, then continued down the hall to The Major’s bedroom. The door was standing ajar. He opened it the rest of the way and was embraced by familiar scents.

The room smelled like Old Spice. Leather. The wool coat hanging on the wall rack.

It smelled like Dad, like the man in the photographs.

This room, much like the front room, attested to the thoroughness of the investigation. It had been determined that the two intruders had gone out through a window in this room because it was on the back side of the house. That window, the wall surrounding it, the floor beneath, had evidence tags attached and a coating of fingerprint dust.

Trapper went over to the window and looked through it to gauge the distance to ground. Because of the grade, it was a more severe drop than the one outside the powder room, which Kerra had braved. A man with reasonable physicality could get out this way.

It would be much more challenging to get in.

As he made his way back down the hall, Trapper was so lost in thought, he didn’t realize that anyone else was there until he reentered the living area and saw the silhouette of a large man filling the front doorway.





Chapter 26




Trapper dropped into a crouch and went for his pistol.

“Hell, man, easy there.”

Trapper then identified the man by his cowboy hat and uniform. “Jenks?”

“Didn’t expect you. Isn’t that Ms. Bailey’s car?”

Trapper eased up to standing. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“It’s been parked at the motel for almost a week. We’ve been keeping an eye on it, afraid somebody would strip it.”

“She and I picked it up earlier today. Since her key is still in her shoulder bag, and it’s in evidence, I had to break into her car and hot-wire it.”

Jenks advanced into the room and took a look around. “She with you?”

“No, she’s on her way back to Dallas.”

“Without her wheels?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Sounds like it. Looks like it, too.” Jenks motioned toward Trapper’s cheek. “She do that?”

“No. That’s courtesy of a preacher man.”

Jenks guffawed. “Hank Addison threw a punch?”

“Hmm.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him.”

Trapper touched the sore spot and winced. “He was riled over Glenn. I guess you know he’s in the ER.”

The deputy nodded. “I wasn’t in the office when it happened, but everybody was in a flap. Word got around fast.”

“Hank blames me for bringing it on.”

“I heard about the scene this morning with the suspect. He’s been arraigned. Bail denied.”

Carson had already texted Trapper. He didn’t pursue it with the deputy. “What’s the latest on Glenn?”