The Major interrupted him. “Thank you for coming, Hank, but you can skip the pastor part. What’s the matter?”

“Nobody can locate Dad.”

The Major tried but failed to wrap his mind around what that signified. “Can you elaborate?”

“I was the last person to see him, and that was after midnight.”

“I haven’t heard from him since early yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” Hank said, pressing his temples between his middle finger and thumb, “turned out to be a dreadful day.”

“I know he had an anxiety attack,” The Major said.

“That was the diagnosis, which was a relief, but he was depressed after.” Hank described how Glenn had begun to completely unravel soon after getting released to go home. “Mom practically had to fork food into him to get him to eat. He was well into killing a bottle of Jack when Trapper showed up. Late. Uninvited. Kerra Bailey was with him. And before Trapper got done with Dad, he—”

“Got done with him?”

Hank expelled a sigh. “Trapper’s latest wild hare is that this guy from Dallas was behind the Pegasus Hotel bombing, that the men who did the actual deed were pawns. Supposedly, he—Wilcox is his name—has a stranglehold on Dad and involved him, to some extent, in the attack on you.”

“Glenn?”

“At first I thought this had to be just another of Trapper’s pranks. But no, he was dead serious. And what I really couldn’t believe is that Dad confessed to …” He gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. “In the light of day, it sounds crazy, or like I dreamed it.”

“Tell me.”

“Dad confessed to signing some kind of pledge with this guy to spy on you, you, in exchange for winning reelection.”

“The past election?”

“No. Back in the late nineties.”

The Major registered shock.

“It gets even more bizarre,” Hank said. “This week, Wilcox supposedly ordered Dad to kill you.”

The Major was too shocked to speak.

Hank shook his head. “I told you it sounded crazy.”

“Glenn sent those men to my house?”

“No! He thought he’d talked this Wilcox out of it. He swore to Kerra that he had nothing to do with it.” He looked at The Major with helplessness. “The whole thing is preposterous, right?”

The Major lost focus and thoughtfully stared into near space.

“Major?” Hank spoke his name with irritation to snap him back. “Surely you don’t believe any of this.”

“I don’t believe Glenn would do anything to hurt me, no. But Trapper has long contended that Thomas Wilcox was behind the bombing. How did last night’s conversation end?”

“Trapper issued Dad an ultimatum to retire from office. Today. Dad went upstairs. Trapper and Kerra left. A couple hours later, Dad came downstairs, in uniform, told me Jenks had called him out to investigate a missing persons case.”

“You were there?”

Hank told him why he’d planned to stay over. “I tried to talk him out of leaving the house in his condition, but he went anyway.”

“What happened when he met Jenks?”

“That’s just it,” Hank exclaimed. “Jenks says he didn’t call Dad last night about a missing persons case or anything else. He figured Dad was knocked out on meds, and he should have been.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I waited up for him for a while, then fell asleep on the sofa. Mom came down early, woke me up, asked where he was.

“I’ve been calling his cell, but it goes straight to voice mail. After I checked with Jenks and he told me he’d made no such call, he canvassed the whole sheriff’s department. Nobody’s seen Dad this morning. I thought maybe he’d come to see you and had failed to notify dispatch.”

“Who’s looking for him?”

“Everybody who wears a badge. DPS troopers. The whole SO. All the personnel are worried about him, especially after his collapse yesterday. But it’s been coming on ever since Sunday night. Well, actually even before, ever since he was notified of your interview with Kerra.” He paused, then added bitterly, “News also delivered by Trapper.”

The Major’s thoughts were pinging from one point to another like a pinball. “Maybe Glenn left to find John and try to reason with him.”

“That’s a possibility, I guess,” Hank said. “Do you know where Trapper is?”

“I haven’t seen or heard from him since he visited me yesterday afternoon.”

“He’s not at the motel. I already checked.”

“What did you plan to do if you found him? Ask him if he knows where Glenn is? Or slug him again?”

“I’m not proud of that,” Hank mumbled, “but I’d like to hit him again. He brought Dad down low last night.” He fiddled with a loose cuticle on the side of his thumb. “Dad prefers Trapper to me. No, don’t bother to contradict it. You know it as well as I do. Whether or not Dad is guilty of corruption, what hurt him most was Trapper being the one to accuse him of it. Did Trapper share his speculation with you?”

“About Glenn? No.” Although something had been weighing on his mind, because during their visit yesterday John had brought up Glenn’s name several times.

“What about Wilcox?” Hank asked.

“For several years, he’s been of interest to John.”

“It has to be all conjecture, though, or else Wilcox would be in prison.”

“John’s official investigation ended when he left the ATF.”

“But unofficially?”

“He remains convinced of some collusion.”

“Jesus,” Hank whispered. “And I mean that as a prayer.”

He sat down on the corner of the bed, not knowing that it was the same spot in which Glenn had sat twenty-four hours earlier, pretending never to have heard of Thomas Wilcox. It pained The Major to think of his lifelong friend lying to him, even by omission.

“I’m frightened,” Hank was saying. “If Dad’s honor is brought into question at this stage of his career, he might take an easier way out than retirement.”

“Suicide?” The Major asked with horror. “Glenn wouldn’t do that to himself, to you, or to Linda.”

“But—”

“I’ve known him longer than you have, Hank. He wouldn’t.” Suddenly The Major was disgusted with Hank. “You whine over Glenn liking Trapper better? Why wouldn’t he? If Trapper was frightened for Glenn, as you claim to be, he wouldn’t be sitting here wringing his hands, he’d be out beating the bushes for him. What good are you doing Glenn in here?” The Major poked his index finger toward him. “Get out there and find him.”

Trapper had been sequestered in the spare bedroom Kerra used as a home office for the past hour while she wandered the other rooms of the apartment, inventing ways to keep herself busy and her mind off what was happening behind the closed door. Now, as she heard Trapper emerge, she rushed to intercept him in the hallway and looked at him expectantly.

He gave her a crooked grin. “It was easier than I anticipated.”

A gust of breath escaped her. “Trapper!” She nearly bowled him over as she threw her arms around him.

He hugged her back. “Having Thomas Wilcox made all the difference. I’m not just an agent who went off the rails. That Wilcox wants to bargain, and that he’s bringing in lawyers, signals them that he’s guilty of something. And, unbeknownst to me, someone who read my reports three years ago didn’t dismiss them altogether. The FBI has had a man working the inside, so—”

Kerra’s cell phone jangled, cutting him off. “I’ll get it later,” she said. “Keep talking.”

“Too much to tell right now, but bottom line, the meeting is set for two o’clock this afternoon in the federal building. That should give Wilcox time to round up his legal team and retrieve his everlovin’ list. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll show, because they’re ready to listen.”

“Do you have your flash drive?”