Marianne broke the tense silence by introducing him to Kerra. They exchanged how-do-you-dos and she congratulated him on the pending arrival. “Do you know what you’re having?”

“A girl,” the couple chorused.

“We’re very happy,” David said, and shot a look toward Trapper that dared him to question his and Marianne’s marital bliss and delight over the baby.

Marianne offered them something to drink. They declined. Then no one said anything for an interminable length of time, until Trapper cleared his throat and gave Marianne a meaningful look.

She turned to her husband. “Trapper’s visit isn’t entirely unexpected, David. I didn’t tell you because, well … I just didn’t. He came to pick up something.”

“What?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

David came back to Trapper looking even more murderous than before. “I don’t know what you’re up to. Still playing government agent, I guess. But whatever your game is, if you’ve put my wife and our baby in any danger—”

“I haven’t. I won’t.”

“You have just by showing up on our doorstep. You’re a nightmare, and I want you to get the hell out of my house.”

Up till now, Trapper had tolerated the man’s animosity because, in David’s place, he would have felt the same. But the chest beating was wearing thin. “Look, I don’t want to make trouble.”

“You are trouble.”

“Once I get what I came for, you’ll never see me again.”

“Which will be too soon.”

They might have continued interminably, but Marianne saw an opening and seized it. “It’s in the kitchen.”

David looked like he wanted to object, but he was simply too well bred to make a scene that would no doubt upset his pregnant wife. Kerra’s presence also might have had something to do with his backing down.

He moved out of the way so Trapper could follow Marianne. David’s drop-dead look was mollified only slightly when Trapper linked his fingers with Kerra’s and pulled her along as they filed down the hall toward the back of the house. Trapper tried his best not to swagger.

Kerra couldn’t help but compare Marianne’s cluttered and homey kitchen to her own. This one smelled like the chocolate cake cooling on the counter. Hers smelled like cake only when she burned a certain candle. There were dishes in the sink that hadn’t yet been loaded into the dishwasher. Kerra’s kitchen needed cleaning only when the dust began to show.

She felt terribly outshone.

“Would you like some cake?”

She and Trapper declined, and Marianne seemed to have anticipated they would. She went to a desk built into the cabinetry, opened a lower drawer, and took out a padded envelope bearing a label that had required her signature. As she handed it to Trapper, she said, “I opened it because it was addressed to me.”

“That’s okay.” He shook the envelope, and an article wrapped in newspaper and cellophane tape dropped into his hand. He ripped open the crude packaging. Kerra wasn’t surprised to see that it contained a flash drive.

Marianne said to Trapper, “Even though there was no return address, I knew it had to be from you.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because it looked like your gift wrapping. And this is exactly like something you would do.”

“I had to send it to somebody who would get that, somebody I could trust to hold on to it until I came to get it.”

They smiled at each other in the way of a pair who are able to communicate without words.

Kerra felt terribly excluded.

She felt terrible, period.

Marianne took the empty envelope and wad of newspaper from Trapper and stuffed them into the wastepaper basket in the knee space under the desk. “Does this have to do with what happened at The Major’s house on Sunday night?”

Trapper made a noncommittal motion with his shoulder. “Better that you don’t know.”

“At least tell me how he’s doing. I’ve been worried.”

“He’s come a long way since Sunday. Looks like he’ll be all right.”

She looked over at Kerra. “What a terrifying experience that must have been for you. Have you recovered from your injuries?”

“If you look closely, you can still see some bruising that makeup doesn’t cover. But I got off light compared to The Major’s injuries.”

“The TV station publicized that you were going to be interviewed tonight on the news, but then had to retract and say that you weren’t feeling up to it.” She looked Kerra over, a question in her kind eyes.

“I had planned to do it, then …” She glanced at Trapper. “I changed my mind.”

Marianne smiled as though she understood how rapidly plans could change when Trapper was involved. She looked at him. “What about you? How are you? Are you taking care of yourself?”

“Aw, you know me. Nothing touches me.”

Her rueful smile said she knew better.

“Excuse me.” They all turned toward the open doorway where David stood. “You may want to see this.”

Kerra was the first to fall in behind him. She followed him back down the hallway and into a den with comfortable furnishings, a well-lived-in ambiance, and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall above a low mantel.

“News bulletin,” David said, reaching for the remote and pumping up the volume. Looking over his shoulder at the three of them, he said, “They caught the guy who shot The Major.”

Chapter 22

Who’s this?”

“Trapper.” He was driving with one hand, holding a cell phone to his ear with the other.

Glenn growled. “Aka Unknown Caller.”

“I’m on a burner.”

“Since your phone is busted all to hell.”

“I was trying to get a better signal by holding it out the car window. It slipped out of my hand.”

“Sure it did. That was also a cute trick you pulled on Hank. How’d you leave the line shack? Sprout wings? Or have somebody come pick you up?”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Came about too late to notify Hank of the switch in plans.”

“Like hell.”

“I’ll apologize and buy him a beer.”

“He doesn’t drink.”

“A new Bible, then,” Trapper said with mounting impatience. “I’ll make it up to him, all right? Now what about this guy you have in custody?”

“I figured when you got wind of that, you’d reappear.”

“What’s the skinny?”

“Leslie Doyle Duncan. New to us, but no stranger to the law in Oklahoma, where he’s from. He was stopped this afternoon for blazing through a school zone, and when his license was run, come to find out he was being sought for several parole violations, the worst of which is possession of a handgun. One was found under the driver’s seat of his pickup.”

“So far, just another day at the office.”

“Except that the pistol is a nine-millimeter, one bullet missing from the clip, which synced with the number that blew a hole in The Major’s lung.”

“Huh.”

“Feds are with him now, putting on the pressure. ‘We can’t help you if you don’t help us, Mr. Duncan. Talk to us.’ Meanwhile, the pistol’s on its way to have ballistics run.”

“What song is Duncan singing?”

“Denial. He never saw the pistol before the traffic cop pulled it out from under his seat.”

“Who’s it registered to?”

“Number’s been filed off.”

“What was he serving time for?”

“It’s been a revolving door, but his most recent stint was for armed robbery. He was also indicted for assault but made a plea bargain.”

“Where’s he say he was Sunday night?”

“Home in the trailer park with his old lady.”

“What’s his old lady say?”

“We’re trying to run her down. He said she went to Ardmore yesterday to visit her mama.”

“Where’s he work?”