Glenn ran his palm across his forehead, unsurprised to find that it had turned damp. “Jesus. It’s almost too much to take in.”

“You only just heard it. In three years, I haven’t taken it all in.”

“Well, now I know how the rift between you and Trapper came about. Did he ever hand over Debra’s diary?”

“No. But there’s no doubt in my mind that he would have used it against me if I’d taken that book deal. He didn’t want me out there talking about the bombing.”

“For your own protection.”

“That’s what he believed and still does. I was hoping that he had let go of it while the rest of his life was going down the drain. Then Sunday night got him all fired up again. He’s more certain than ever.”

“That this Thomas Wilcox was behind the Pegasus?”

The Major nodded.

“And that now, twenty-five years later, he made an attempt on your life?”

“Because of Kerra’s unexpected emergence and what the two of us might recall during the rehashing of the experience we shared. I know it sounds outlandish. But John is … is … John.”

Seeking to reassure his old friend, Glenn addressed him by his real name. “Frank, listen to me. Trapper is as sly as a fox, impulsive, cocky as hell. About half the time, I’d like to whack him up alongside the head. The other half of the time, I wish my own son were more like him.

“But for all his brass, Trapper is also one damn good detective. He has an instinct for it that, honestly, I envy. What I’m getting to is, he wouldn’t base a hunch on an influential millionaire unless he had something on the guy.”

“He did tell me one thing. After the Pegasus was bombed, Wilcox acquired the site. He’d been coveting it for years.”

Glenn tugged on his lower lip. “That’s all Trapper’s got?”

“Slim, right?”

“Very. Not enough to hang a conspiracy theory on. Did he advance this hypothesis to the ATF?”

“They dismissed it. He bucked them. It cost him his career and his fiancée but did nothing to sway his conviction. What happened to Kerra and me was the clincher. He’s always been headstrong and rash, but now—”

“You’re afraid he might actually be crazy.”

The Major met his friend’s gaze. “No, Glenn,” he said softly. “I’m afraid he might actually be right.”

On the other side of the car’s console, Kerra sat hugging herself. Trapper asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Body language screams otherwise.”

“I’m cold, that’s all.”

After two days of sunshine and milder temperatures, this morning’s sky was overcast. The wind was from the south, but it was brisk and made it feel colder than the actual temperature. The real chill, however, was between him and Kerra.

She hadn’t slept well, and he knew that because he hadn’t, either. It was difficult to fall asleep with a woody the length and density of a baseball bat. They’d eventually gotten up and taken their turns in the bathroom. They had avoided eye contact and gave each other wide berth as they moved about in the confined space. Except for giving curt answers to direct questions, she’d been uncommunicative.

Now, as he sped through a yellow light, he said, “Would you rather I’d’ve gone against your express no-no and had my wicked way with you?”

She turned her head toward him. If looks could kill.

“Well, sorry,” he said. “I’m confused. Yesterday morning, when on the brink of getting off, you called a sudden halt. You were mad at me then. Now you’re mad because last night I called a halt before getting you off.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I just wish you’d make up your mind.”

“I have,” she said with angry emphasis. “When we finish at the sheriff’s office, I’m meeting with a locksmith to make me a key for my car. I’m going home. You go your way, I’ll go mine. You do your thing, I’ll do mine, which is to report the news, not be at the center of it, outrunning the police, and forwarding my calls to untraceable phones, and … such. I’m returning to my life.”

He didn’t say anything.

In a vexed tone, she asked, “Did you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

He wheeled into a parking slot reserved for the Deputy of the Month, cut the engine, and got out before she said anything more. He came around, but she rebuffed his attempt to lend her a hand as she alighted. She went ahead of him as they approached the main entrance to the sheriff’s headquarters, which was an annex of the courthouse.

He was glad to see the county hadn’t yet sprung for a metal detector. He’d have hated having to relinquish his pistol. The only screening required was for one to stop at a window and announce his business.

But before Trapper even introduced himself, the female deputy behind the glass said, “Good morning, Ms. Bailey, Mr. Trapper. I’ll call up and let Sheriff Addison know you’re here. Second floor.”

Trapper used Kerra’s unfamiliarity with the building as an opportunity to cup her elbow and guide her around a corner to the elevators. They boarded, and as soon as the doors closed, he said to her, “Stop flinching every time I touch you. First of all, it’s pissing me off. Secondly, it doesn’t lend credibility to our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?”

Ignoring her question, he leaned down and spoke directly into her face. “To avoid future confusion over the other matter, if we ever get that hot again, we finish.” Leaning down even closer, he whispered, “With me inside you.”

The doors slid open and the sheriff was standing there to greet them, looking relieved but also cranky.

Trapper said, “What’s the matter, Glenn? Not getting enough fiber?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t show.”

“Well, here she is. Delivered as promised.” It pleased him to see that Kerra looked a bit dazed by what he’d said. He had to nudge her before she stepped out of the elevator.

“I didn’t expect you this soon,” Glenn said. “The FBI agents haven’t come in yet.”

“I told you bright and early.”

“When have you ever done anything you were supposed to?” The sheriff turned to Kerra. “Excuse me. I apologize for my grumpy mood. It’s been that kind of morning.”

“I know the feeling.” She cast Trapper a sour look.

Glenn drew her attention back to him. “Trapper fill you in on the suspect?”

“The name Leslie Duncan means nothing to me,” she said.

“He’s used aliases. Give this a look.” Glenn had Duncan’s rap sheet with him and showed it to Kerra. “It’s a current photo, taken just last night when he was booked.”

She gave the attached mug shot the consideration it warranted, then shook her head. “I don’t recognize him. I couldn’t identify him as being one of the men at The Major’s house. I never saw them. I’ve told you that.”

“Maybe when you see Duncan in person—”

“Face to face?”

“He won’t know you’re there. They just brought him from lockup in the basement and put him in an interrogation room. All you have to do is look through the window.”

“It’s a waste of time, but lead the way.”

Glenn turned to Trapper. “If you want to wait for her, do it down in the lobby. I’ll alert you when she’s done. But since you keep switching phones, I’ll need a number to text.”

“I stay with Kerra.”

Glenn exhaled with exasperation. “Trapper, you’ve got no official reason to be here. Even if I was okay with it, the agents conducting these interrogations—”

“I’m her bodyguard.” He looked at Kerra and tipped his head toward Glenn. “Tell him.” He held his breath, hoping she would realize that this was the “arrangement” he’d referred to.

She held his gaze for no longer than two heartbeats before turning back to Glenn. “It’s, uh, one of the services offered by his … firm.”