“Nowhere. His last job was at one of the Choctaw casinos. But when it was discovered that he’d lied on his job application and was a parolee, they fired him. He crossed the Red, and, lucky us, moved to Lodal.”

“How long ago?”

“Few months.”

“Why’d he choose Lodal?”

“He threw a dart at the map.”

“Why would he want to pop The Major?”

“According to him, he wouldn’t. Said he knew who The Major was because of the picture, and knew he’d been shot because it’s been all over everywhere.” Glenn took a breath. “That’s the latest. Agents are still grilling him.”

“He lawyer up?”

“Not yet.”

“I want a crack at him.”

Glenn laughed.

“You could deputize me.”

“I could also take a winter vacation to Siberia, but it ain’t gonna happen. I’m trying to keep the Rangers and feds from arresting you for making off with their material witness. Where’d you stash Kerra? Because I know she’s not at her condo in Dallas.”

“Why would you think she was? Unless … Glenn, you devil. You browbeat Gracie into telling, didn’t you?”

Without acknowledging that, Glenn continued. “When Kerra failed to answer her phone the many times I called, I spoke to the condo concierge. He said Kerra had been there, stopped at the desk to borrow the master spare key to her apartment because hers had been lost.

“But less than fifteen minutes later he saw her leave on foot, carrying what looked like a gym bag. Funny thing is, her phone is still signaling from the apartment. And all that bears your stamp, Trapper. Where are you now?”

“On my way back. But before I cross into your county, I want assurance I won’t be arrested for grand theft auto.”

“That two-bit lawyer friend of yours called,” Glenn grumbled. “He explained the situation and apologized profusely.”

“So we’re good.”

“Not quite. Kerra with you?”

“How about I deliver her to your office in the morning?”

“How about you deliver her now?”

“Because you have your hands full applying pressure to the Okie. You already have Kerra’s signed statement and recorded interview, and anything she might possibly add can wait till tomorrow. And by the way, I didn’t kidnap her. She came willingly. We cool?”

“That time you substituted raw Easter eggs for boiled ones?”

“Yeah?”

“I shouldn’t have talked The Major out of paddling you.”

Trapper laughed. “See you in the morning.”

“Wait. Where are you—”

“Bright and early,” Trapper said, and then clicked off.

Kerra, who’d remained silent but had been following the conversation, asked, “Will we be there?”

“You bet. I really do want a crack at that guy.”

“Even if you twist the sheriff’s arm, the FBI will never permit it.”

“You’re right, they won’t. But I have an ace to play.”

“The flash drive?”

“Flash drive?” He looked across at her and asked innocently, “What flash drive?” Her expression made him chuckle. “No, I’ve got another ace.”

“Goddammit!” Glenn swore when Trapper hung up on him.

He swiveled his desk chair around to the credenza. The carafe of the outdated coffeemaker had been made cloudy by oceans of bad coffee, and the dregs in it now smelled burned and looked as thick as tar, but he emptied it into his mug anyway. The stronger the brew, the better it masked the aroma of the whiskey he laced it with.

He was pouring from the bottle he kept in his bottom desk drawer when one knock landed hard on his office door before it was pushed opened and Jenks strode in.

Glenn expelled a gust of breath and sucked sloshed whiskey off the back of his hand. “You almost gave me heart failure.” He recapped the bottle and returned it to the drawer.

“You ought to be more careful,” the deputy said. “I could’ve been anybody.”

“That’s what scared the bejesus out of me.” Glenn took a drink and sighed appreciation. “What’s up?” He nodded at the form Jenks had brought in with him. “No, don’t tell me. That’s Leslie Doyle Duncan’s signed confession.”

The deputy snorted. “Missing person report.”

“She’s with Trapper.”

“Huh?”

“Kerra Bailey.”

“This isn’t about her.”

Glenn reached across the desk to take the sheet from the deputy and read the typed-in name. “Petey Moss.” He looked up at Jenks and frowned.

“His neighbor went over Monday evening to collect a ball-peen hammer Petey had borrowed from him,” Jenks said. “Petey wasn’t there. Neighbor’s been keeping an eye out for him ever since. He really wants his hammer back.

“There’s been no sign of Petey. Neighbor called his workplace today. His boss hasn’t seen him all week, either. The neighbor, who’s also his landlord, went over to his house again this evening, and when he got no answer, let himself in. Said Petey’s mailbox is overflowing, his goldfish are belly up, and everything in the fridge has gone bad.

“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.”