“He has the list?”

“I accused him of being drunk.”

Kerra’s lethargy had dissolved, and now she was charged. “Did he say where he is?”

“No, but he left a phone number.”

“Text it to me. I’ll call him right now.”

“Hold on, I’ve got another assignment for you.”

“Gracie, for the time being we’ve gotten all we’re going to get out of the PD. The spokesperson will say nothing except that they’re investigating. They’ve sequestered the housekeeper, so I can’t even get near her. The lead homicide detective dodged me. All I’m doing is repeating myself.”

“I’m sending Bill to take over there. I need you to get to Lodal.”

“What for?”

“The Major’s being released from the hospital.”

“What? Today? That has to be a rumor.”

“I have a reliable source. While up there, I bribed a hospital orderly to call me with any updates or hearsay. I just talked to him. That’s still your story, Kerra, and if you hurry, it’ll be an exclusive for the evening news.”

After a short pause to take a breath, she continued. “Assuming you won’t be an idiot and pass this up, if you could possibly, pretty please with sugar on top, get a shot of you and The Major together, that would be fantastic. A sound bite from him would give me an orgasm. And need I spell this out? You’d be the network’s reigning princess.”

Kerra had stopped listening after being told that The Major was leaving the hospital. She was flabbergasted. “You trust this source?”

“He loved my orange glasses. The crew has already left. They’ll meet you there.”

“My car—”

“Rent a limo. Hitchhike. I don’t care. Just squirt some red-out in your eyes and get your ass up there.”

Trapper wanted to notify Glenn that he was on his way to Lodal so he could tell him in person that the FBI now had the goods on Wilcox. Regardless of what he’d told Glenn last night, he thought he could swing a lenient plea deal for him if he agreed to testify against Wilcox.

Frustrated after repeatedly getting his voice mail, he called the SO’s main number and asked to speak directly with Glenn. Rather than being put through, he was asked to identify himself.

“John Trapper.”

“The sheriff didn’t come in today.”

“I’m a friend.”

“Yes, I know, but he’s not here.”

“Do you know where I can reach him?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

After disconnecting, Trapper had the uneasy feeling he’d been given a scripted answer that was intentionally evasive. He called the Addisons’ home number. A woman answered. “Hey, Linda, it’s Trapper.”

“Mrs. Addison is on her cell phone and can’t be interrupted.”

“Who are you?”

She identified herself as a family friend. Why did Linda need family friends around her? “Is Glenn there?”

“No, and, I’m sorry, but that’s all I’m at liberty to say.”

“How come?”

“You may want to call Hank,” she said before hanging up.

Maybe he was getting the runaround because Hank had spread the word that Trapper was persona non grata.

Or perhaps, after tendering his resignation, Glenn was ducking people in general to avoid having to answer questions.

Maybe he’d suffered another bad anxiety attack or something worse.

With that worry in mind, Trapper called the hospital, asked if Glenn Addison had been admitted as a patient, and was relieved to learn from the switchboard operator that he hadn’t been.

“Good. Thank you.” Uncertain how he was going to feel about talking to his father so soon after the discovery he’d made, he hesitated.

“Can I be of further assistance?” the operator asked.

“Yeah. Please ring Major Trapper’s room.”

“I can’t do that.”

“This is his son.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Trapper. I can’t connect you because your father has been released.”

“What?”

“He’s checked out of the hospital.”

“When? Why wasn’t I notified?”

“I … I …”

“Never mind. Put me through to the senior nurse on his floor.”

While his cell phone battery drained, the phone on the other end rang at least two dozen times. He had about decided to hang up and call the switchboard back when a man answered, sounding harried. As soon as Trapper said his name, the guy identified himself as the floor’s supervising nurse and got defensive.

“We tried to contact you, Mr. Trapper. None of the numbers we had on your father’s chart went through. We tried persuading him to stay until you could be reached, but he was insistent on leaving. His doctor strongly advised against it, but—”

“How long ago was this?”

“Half an hour. Maybe a bit longer.”

“Was he taken home by ambulance?”

“No. Reverend Addison was here. He offered to drive him.”

Chapter 36

Aminivan Trapper recognized as Hank’s was parked in front of The Major’s house.

Trapper sped through the gate and kicked up dust on the drive. He braked so hard the car skidded before coming to a jarring stop. He was out of it in a blur and bounding up the steps to the porch.

The door was unlocked. Trapper rushed in. Then stopped dead in his tracks.

The Major was in his recliner but sitting upright. He looked pale and weak, shaky and shrunken, but also enraged.

Standing over him was Hank, who backed up a few steps and swung the barrel of the rifle he was holding away from The Major and toward Trapper, who said, “What the hell are you doing?”

Hank replied, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No Bible?”

“This gets attention faster.”

“In anybody else’s hands, maybe. You just look like a jackass.”

Trapper was cracking wise, but his gut had drawn up as tight as a drum, and he was attuned to every nuance of Hank’s tone and expression, because his finger was tapping against the trigger of the deer rifle.

But his father’s labored breathing was Trapper’s immediate concern. “I’m going to sue that hospital for letting you leave.”

“He told me we were going to search for Glenn together.” He raised his chin toward Hank. “Instead he drove me here. Took that rifle from the cabinet …”

“Save your breath,” Trapper said. “I can figure out the rest.” His thinking had snagged on the need to search for Glenn. He was desperate to have that explained, but first he had to disarm Hank. “Do you even know how to load that thing?”

“It was loaded for me.”

“Huh. Let me guess. Jenks?”

“Handy guy.”

“I’m sure. But come on, Hank. Put down the rifle before you hurt somebody.”

“I’d love to start with you.”

“You never could hit the broad side of a barn. You’d miss me, and then I would have to kill you, and I don’t want to. Not because I’d miss you or anything, but it would be hard on your family.”

“Slowly, using one hand, remove your holster.”

“Holster?”

“If you don’t do it now, I’ll shoot The Major.”

“With the rifle my mom gave him? That’s unsportsmanlike.”

“Do it, Trapper.”

The gleam in Hank’s eyes made him look maniacal enough to turn this standoff bloody. Trapper couldn’t risk that until he had a better grasp of what was going on. “In order to reach my holster with one hand, I have to take off my coat.”

“Slowly.”

Trapper shrugged the coat off his shoulders, then let the sleeves slide down his arms. It fell to the floor. Reaching behind him with one hand, he detached his holstered nine-millimeter from his waistband.

“Now pitch it over your shoulder.”

“That’s dangerous. I’m not sure the safety is on.”