“By contrast, if tragedy were to strike you and The Major within days of you going on TV together, it would be like ringing a fire bell, and the FBI would come running. A data analyst couldn’t ignore a coincidence like that, and the feds wouldn’t depend on a department as small as mine to investigate the double murder of two celebrities. They would take over, and that would create a media frenzy like none other.”

“Which is exactly what’s happened,” Trapper said. “Obviously Wilcox didn’t heed your caution.”

“Obviously. But he led me to believe that he agreed with my reasoning. He threatened me with dire consequences if I was wrong, but said he would trust my judgment. We hung up, and I took a huge breath of relief. Crisis averted and no one was the wiser.”

Still addressing her, he raised his right hand. “On my solemn oath, I had nothing to do with what happened to you. I knew nothing about it until after the fact.”

She looked up at Trapper, and he knew that she was remembering, as he was, that Wilcox had denied ordering the attempted assassination. Were both Glenn and Wilcox telling the truth about that? Or were both lying?

Trapper leaned down and placed both palms on the tabletop. “Why didn’t you warn The Major, Glenn? You could have told him you had a gut feeling. Or a nutcase had called the SO and issued a threat. Something.”

“I did caution him. Roundaboutly. I suggested he keep a pistol handy in case he had to ward off any paparazzi. Made a joke of it, but advised him to be vigilant till the interview was behind him.

“I kept several units out there patrolling for hours before the telecast and until the crew left in the van. I thought it was over and done. Nothing had happened. I called everybody in. That must’ve been what they were waiting for.”

“They,” Trapper said. “Who?”

“Whoever Wilcox sent,” Glenn said. “He pretended to go along with my recommendation, but he doubled down. Even if I had told him I would do it, he knew I wouldn’t.”

Trapper snickered. “You suddenly grew a conscience?”

“No. I gave up my conscience a long time ago. But kill my best friend? And a woman?” He looked at Trapper with imploring eyes. “How could you think I would do that?”

“I wouldn’t think you could make a pledge to Wilcox, either. Or wasn’t it as sacred as your solemn oath?” Mimicking him, Trapper raised his right hand.

“The pledge extended to spying, not killing.”

Trapper’s initial reaction was to verbally lash out at that, but arm-wrestling his temper into submission, he rounded the chair and sat back down. “Do you think Leslie Duncan was one of the three at the house?”

“We’re not firm on there being three.”

“There were three,” Kerra said.

“Answer the question, Glenn,” Trapper snapped. “What about Duncan?”

Glenn hesitated just long enough for Trapper to jump on it. “Did you set him up?”

“No.”

“He was caught with the pistol all but smoking.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“And my bag,” Kerra said.

“Wasn’t me.”

“This morning—”

“Look,” Glenn said, dividing a look between him and Kerra. “I’m still wearing the badge, so I have to go through the motions. But that guy is too obvious. And Kerra said his voice was wrong. Do I think he’s being framed? Yes. Am I doing it? No.”

“Someone in your department?”

“Must be.”

“A Wilcox puppet?”

“Must be.”

“But you don’t know who?”

“No.”

Trapper didn’t quite believe that, but he let it pass for the time being and moved on. “Why’ve you been bloodhounding Kerra and me?”

“Because I’m afraid for you! For Kerra because they missed her the first time. For you because you came charging into town, breathing fire, making scenes, second-guessing every-goddamn-body, but especially me, and absconding with our only material witness.”

Glenn aimed a finger at him. “Don’t think for a minute I believe that cock-and-bull story about you finding Kerra’s earring under her hospital bed. You went to the crime scene, didn’t you? Don’t bother lying. I know you did. And you were out there again today.”

“Jenks told?”

“He did.”

“I hope he found the transmitter, and that he was up to his neck in sewage when he did.”

“Transmitter?”

“The tracking devise you put on Kerra’s car.”

Glenn looked over at her with puzzlement, then came back to Trapper and raised his shoulders. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, but I wish I had thought of it. Because all you’ve been doing is making a bright red target of yourselves.”

Glenn had worked himself into a lather. Suddenly he flattened his hand against his heart. Trapper sat forward. Hank exclaimed, “Dad?” Kerra reached toward Glenn with apparent concern, but he waved her off. “I’m fine, I’m fine. They’ve got me on anti-anxiety pills.”

She said, “You shouldn’t be combining those with alcohol.”

“Maybe he’ll listen to you, Kerra,” Hank said. “He won’t listen to me.”

Trapper noticed that the angry archangel who’d slugged him this morning now looked defeated, but he doubted Hank’s dejection was solely for his father’s sake. Glenn’s treachery was going to be bad for Hank’s business. The offering plate yield might be lighter.

After Glenn regained his breath and fortified himself with another belt of whiskey, he continued, speaking directly to Trapper. “This morning, in my talk with The Major, he told me you’re still trying to build a case against Wilcox. That true? What have you got?”

When it became apparent that he wasn’t about to respond to that, Glenn sat back in his chair, and his expression turned ineffably sad. “I don’t blame you for not confiding that. I wouldn’t trust me, either.”

Trapper didn’t let himself be emotionally moved. “Where does it stand between you and Wilcox now? When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“As I was speeding out to the crime scene. I called from my unit, demanding to know what the hell he’d done, what was I going to find when I got out there? I was furious, heartsick. I was screaming, bawling, cursing him to perdition.”

“What did he say?”

“He claimed not to know what I was talking about. He hung up on me and hasn’t answered his phone to me since.”

Trapper thought on that, then asked Glenn if he and Wilcox had ever met face-to-face other than that first time.

“No. I hope I never have to look into those eyes again. Made me shiver.”

Trapper glanced at Kerra, then said to Glenn, “You may find him changed since the death of his daughter. What do you know about that?”

“Only that she died,” Glenn said. “Never knew the details, and I didn’t send flowers.”

Trapper pushed his chair back, pulled on his coat, and motioned for Kerra to do the same.

Glenn looked up at him with bleary-eyed apprehension. “What happens now?”

“You resign, Sheriff Addison.”

“Will I face criminal charges? Will I go to prison?”

“I don’t know. Won’t be up to me.”

“How much do you have on Wilcox?” he asked again. “What do you have? How incriminating is it?”

Trapper didn’t answer him.

“The reason I’m asking is …” Glenn wet his lips. “Maybe I could help you, John. We could work together. Partner.”

“Until tonight I thought we were.”

The brutal but truthful words seemed to crush him. His chest caved in. “Tomorrow, I’ll put together everything I can remember about Wilcox, everything I know. If I help you make your case, and you deliver Wilcox hogtied to the authorities, maybe they’ll let me plea out.”

There were tears in his eyes. He was all but begging, and Trapper wouldn’t be human if he weren’t affected by his mentor’s humility. “Whatever else happens, Glenn, you resign tomorrow. You’re not entitled to wear a badge a single day more.”