The fuse on his temper was burning short. At the end of it, she feared it was going to be explosive. He had started out with his voice at a conversational level, but the volume had steadily increased. “What happened?” she asked.

“In sauntered two deputies who told me that Sheriff Addison wanted to see me. I told them that Glenn had my cell number. If he wanted to talk, he knew how to reach me. Noooo. A phone call won’t do, they said. The meeting had to be in person.”

“You were arrested?”

“I told them I’d already had a person-to-person meeting with Sheriff Addison today, thank you, and went back to reading about stags in rut. But then one of the officers plucked the magazine out of my hand and said that the summons was more than a friendly invitation. I could follow them in my own vehicle to the sheriff’s office, but I had to go, and it had to be right then.

“So I left those poor bucks unfinished and followed the pair of deputies to the sheriff’s office, where I was grilled for the next two friggin’ hours.” As expected, he was furious. He didn’t end with a shout, however, but rather with a snarl, which was much more menacing.

She backed a step away from him. “They questioned you based on what I told them?”

He put his hands on his hips and closed the distance she’d created. “Ya think?”

“Trapper—”

“You suspect me of trying to kill my own father?”

“No.”

“That’s what it sounds like. I know I didn’t make a very good first impression on you, Miss Louis Vuitton, but Jesus!” He raked his fingers through his damp hair. “You changed the sequence of events in your story—”

“I didn’t change the sequence. I hadn’t remembered it correctly.”

“Until when, Kerra? Before or after you talked me through it last night?”

She avoided looking him in the eye.

“That’s what I thought.”

She defended herself against the accusation behind his droll remark. “I wasn’t completely honest with you last night because you’d made me—”

“Afraid.”

“All right, yes! You sneaked into my room after you’d left with the sheriff, which was frightening enough, but then you demanded to know if I’d seen the men who’d attempted to kill The Major. What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to think that a son would want to know who’d tried to off his father.”

“A son who hadn’t spoken to that father in years, who emanated so much hostility you could cut it with a knife? That son?”

He glared at her then turned away, mumbling things she thought it just as well she didn’t catch. She gave both of them a short timeout to cool down, then said quietly, “I had to tell the authorities, Trapper.”

“You did what your conscience dictated and”—he snapped his fingers—“next thing I know, everybody puts me creeping around in the dark back rooms of The Major’s house, jiggling doorknobs.”

“I understand why you would take offense at the allegation, but it will go away as soon as you provide an alibi for Sunday night.”

“Right. Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll think of something.”

Her lips parted in shock.

He rolled his eyes. “That was a joke, for crissake.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“You’re right. Not a damn thing’s been funny since you knocked on my office door.”

“Well, I’m sorry about that, but you haven’t helped yourself, either. How did you get my bag?”

He spread his arms from his sides. “I don’t have your bag. Glenn and those Rangers hammered me hard about that thing. I denied knowing anything about its missing status.”

“Did they believe you?”

“Didn’t stick around long enough to find out. I told them I wasn’t saying another goddamn word without a lawyer, got up, walked out.”

“They let you go?”

“They had to. They’ve got nothing on me. And, in case you’re still wondering, I do have an alibi. I was in a sports bar where I’m a regular. I had a dinner of wings and cheese fries, watched a game that went into overtime, and didn’t leave till the final buzzer. Bartender knows me. He can vouch. Plus I put the tab on a credit card, so the receipt will be time-stamped. Satisfied?”

“Did the sheriff check it out?”

“In the process when I left.”

“What about the earring? How did you explain having it?”

“I spotted it on the floor under your hospital bed last night while I was waiting for you to come out of the bathroom.” He paused, then added, “Smelling like bath powder.”

“That isn’t true.”

“It absolutely is. Baby powder, I’m guessing.”

“Not about that,” she snapped. “About the earring.”

“Oh. Yeah, that was a lie. That’s how I explained having it. But the truth is that I found it out behind The Major’s house.”

Rendered speechless by that, she sat down on the edge of the bed and stared up at him.

He said, “When I left the hospital after seeing you Monday morning, I went out there to look around.”

“Weren’t crime scene investigators all over it?”

“Pretty much. But the sun hadn’t come up, and, besides, the sky was overcast. It started to rain, which soon turned to freezing rain. Everybody was wearing winter gear up to their eyebrows. I blended in with the diehards poking around outside. I found the earring in a patch of dead grass twenty yards or so away from the house.”

“How would it have gotten there?”

“You told Glenn you’re positive it was in an inside pocket of your bag.”

“That’s right.”

“Zipped in?”

“No. I put the earrings in a slot in the lining that doesn’t have a zipper.”

“And your bag doesn’t close at the top. I remember that from when you came to my office. The earring could have shaken out when whoever took the bag was running away from the house.” He tipped his head. “Conceivable?”

“Conceivable. But why didn’t you turn it over to the authorities?”

“Until I watched the interview and saw that you were wearing it then, I didn’t even know it belonged to you.”

“That’s flimsy, Trapper. You were at a crime scene and found something. You knew it wasn’t The Major’s earring. It should have been left where it was and brought to the attention of the investigators. You should’ve let them retrieve it.”

“That would have been proper procedure.”

“And we know what you think of that. You would also have had to account for yourself being there in the first place.”

The more he explained, the more he baffled her. She didn’t know what to believe and what not to. With seamless ease, he melded fact with fabrication and sarcasm with sincerity.

She had been with him enough times now to recognize the barriers he raised to hide a long-simmering anger and wounded pride. He also used his glibness and charm without shame. He could disarm with intimidation as well as with a wolfish grin, and she’d been susceptible to both.

“Did you discover any other evidence while poking around with the diehards?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You shouldn’t. But it’s the truth. If I had found something I deemed important to the investigation, I would have handed it over to the authorities immediately. I swear.”

She had to take him at his word. At least for the time being. “How do you think the culprits got away? Where did they go?”

“They believed The Major was dead. You had escaped, and they ran out of time to look for you, probably because they saw the TV van returning. They went out the back and skedaddled. They had left a vehicle a safe distance away, with or without an accomplice waiting behind the wheel.

“While your crew was freaking out, calling 911, and so forth, the bad guys were driving away undetected. There are lots of back roads and old cattle trails out there. You can get lost if you know where you’re going.”