“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.”

“You only realized this discrepancy later?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes. When I wasn’t so woozy.” If she told them that clarity had come to her during a nightmare they would think she was crazy. “But now I’m certain that someone tried to open that door before the first shot.”

“Must’ve been the assailants.”

“Possibly,” she said, “but they approached from the main room after the gunshot, not before. And they weren’t stealthy. I followed each footstep.”

One of the Rangers said, “You didn’t hear approaching footsteps the first time someone tried the door?”

“No. I wasn’t aware of anyone being there until the latch rattled.”

The same Ranger asked, “Are you suggesting that someone else was inside the house, a third suspect?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m only telling you how I’m remembering it now.”

No one said anything for several moments, then the second Ranger addressed her. “After the crew left, how long were you and The Major there alone before you excused yourself to go to the bathroom?”

“Fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“You stayed in the main room that whole time?”

“Yes. Neither of us left it until I excused myself.”

“So somebody could have come in through a door or window at the back of the house?”

“I suppose.”

“Were lights on in the other rooms?”

“No.” She gave a faint smile. “Our setup required a lot of electricity. We used several circuits. The Major complained how that would run up his next bill. He was teasing, but the crew was conscientious about turning out lights when we were finished.

“As I left the living room and went into the hall, it was very dark.” She told them she had switched on the bathroom light even before shutting the door and remembered turning it off immediately after realizing it would give away her presence.

The sheriff said, “You didn’t see anything suspicious, or off somehow, that would make you think now that somebody was in one of the back rooms?”

“Nothing.”

Kerra wasn’t sure what to make of the look that passed among the three men before the sheriff came back to her. “Kerra, what I’m about to tell you isn’t for disclosure.”

“All right.”

“It’s a fact we’ve been holding back because we don’t know what to make of it, and when we have a suspect to question—”

“You want to see if he’s aware of it, whatever it is.”

“That’s correct.” He paused, then said, “The Major’s deer rifle was within his arm’s reach when the first responders arrived.”

“He was probably putting it away.”

The three men shared another look. One of the Rangers asked, “He had it out of the cabinet while you were there?”

“Yes.” She explained The Major’s sentimental attachment to the rifle. “After showing it to me, he propped it against the wall and went over to the bar to pour a drink. He was probably putting it away when he was attacked.”

The three sat back in their chairs, their body language conveying that was a plausible explanation for something that had intrigued them. Sheriff Addison said, “We conjectured that maybe he had heard something at the back of the house, or heard the culprits coming up the porch steps, and went for the rifle to protect himself. It wasn’t loaded, but he could’ve scared somebody into thinking it was.”

In a soft voice, Kerra said, “If only he’d had the chance.”

He nodded glumly, coughed behind his fist, then said, “What’s the second detail that may or may not be significant?”

She rolled her lips inward, which made the abraded corner of her mouth sore, which reminded her of why she dreaded this so desperately and wouldn’t be doing it at all except that it was the right, moral, and legal thing to do. “It concerns my missing bag.”

“It’s turned up?”

“No, sheriff. But something I’m certain was inside it has been returned to me.”

He registered astonishment. “By who?”

Chapter 11

Contrary to the relief Kerra had expected to feel upon being dismissed and allowed to leave the sheriff’s office, she hunched in the backseat of the deputy-driven patrol car, feeling despondent and generally miserable.

Her head ached dully but without letup. Her coat had been returned to her, but it was inadequate against the Siberian express, which had hit the plains of North Texas where there was nothing to block it except for barbed-wire fences. Over the course of the afternoon, roads had become increasingly hazardous.

Her car, now encased in ice, was still in the motel parking lot where she’d left it Sunday morning to join the crew in the production van for the short trip out to The Major’s spread. That seemed a long time ago.

Gracie had checked her back into the room she’d previously occupied, where a welcome back party was already in full swing when the deputy delivered her. Dazed by the ill-timed surprise, Kerra reunited with the rest of the crew who, despite the inclement weather, had rounded up burgers and beer and helium-filled balloons that bobbed and swayed from various anchors in the crowded room.

She tried to be gracious and get into the festive spirit, but Gracie must have sensed her downcast mood. As soon as the burgers had been demolished, the producer shooed the others out.

“Maybe our celebration was a bit much with you just out of the hospital,” she said, plopping cross-legged in the center of Kerra’s bed with her tablet in her lap. “But we need to go over some particulars about tomorrow.”

“Gracie, if you’re referring to the interview, there may not be a ‘tomorrow.’”