“Then I’m doubly glad she beat it up here to cover The Major’s release from the hospital.”

Trapper’s stomach plunged. “What?”

“Oh, I see you’re taken aback,” he mocked. “You didn’t know that.” Then, “Kerra?”

She appeared in the doorway between the living room and the hall. Jenks’s left hand was wrapped around her biceps. In his right was a revolver, the caliber of which you didn’t argue with.

Kerra’s lips were almost white with fear, but she was putting up a brave front. “Gracie gave me your message. I tried to reach you.”

“The phone ran out of juice.”

“They warned The Major and me that if we signaled you that I was here, we would all die.”

“I think that’s the plan anyway.” Trapper gave her only a half smile, but he hoped she realized that it was brimming with apology and regret.

“Jenks, bring her over here,” Hank said. Jenks propelled her forward, and when she was within reach, Hank took her arm and jerked her in front of him, facing Trapper. “Take hold of the rifle.”

“Go to hell,” she said and elbowed him in the stomach.

Acting instinctively, Trapper lurched forward.

Hank yelled, “Jenks! Shoot him!”

“Wait!” Trapper froze and raised his hands higher. “Leave Kerra alone, you can do with me whatever.”

Hank, breathing with exertion—excitement?—said, “Well, that’s real generous of you, Trapper, but you’re in no position to dictate terms, seeing as how I have all the advantages here. Tell Kerra to take hold of the rifle.”

Trapper glanced at Jenks, who had moved to stand at The Major’s side. Any of them made an easy target for his revolver. Coming back to Kerra, he bobbed his head. “Do as he says.”

Eyes locked on Trapper’s, she allowed Hank to place her hands where he wanted them and secured them with his own. Her left supported the barrel, her right was wrapped around the trigger guard. Hank’s finger remained crooked around the trigger itself.

Looking at Trapper from over Kerra’s shoulder, Hank chuckled. “It was the darnedest stroke of luck. I was about to leave the hospital with The Major tucked into my van when she drove into the parking lot. I invited her to ride along with us and told her she could call her crew to meet us out here. Except—”

“Except that when I tried to make the call,” Kerra said, “he backhanded me and took my phone.”

Trapper settled an icy gaze on Hank. “I’m going to have to kill you after all.” He glanced over his shoulder and spotted his holster on the floor two yards away. He knew a bullet was chambered, but how to get the pistol out of the holster …

Reading his thoughts, Jenks said, “I don’t advise it.”

“Better heed him, Trapper,” Hank said. “Being a lawman, he’s got lots of tricks up his sleeve.”

“Tricks like planting evidence to frame a white-trash parole violator for attempted murder?”

“That’s the least of Jenks’s talents,” Hank said. “He can make people disappear without a trace.”

“The Pit.”

“Your bodies will never be discovered.”

“Like that of his partner Sunday night?”

“Petey Moss,” Hank said.

“Who was the third?” Kerra asked.

“Wasn’t a third.” That from Jenks.

“Yes, there was.” Trapper directed Kerra’s attention to The Major.

She looked down at him, her lips parting with bewilderment. Wearily, he nodded. “He’s right.”

Trapper wished he could take satisfaction from his father’s admission. He couldn’t. He said to Kerra, “The day I came here, I figured out it had to have been him who tried to open that door before you heard the shot. But I couldn’t reason why. No, let me rephrase.” He looked down at his father. “I didn’t want to reason why. I get it now.”

“I don’t think you do, John,” he said. “I heard them coming toward the house and tried to warn Kerra. Ran out of time. That’s all.”

Trapper held his father’s gaze. Breathed in, breathed out. He thought his ribs would break from the pressure building behind them. His heart was already broken.

Hank said, “Ah. A pregnant pause.”

Trapper ignored him and looked at the six-shooter in Jenks’s large hand. “If The Major doesn’t get back to the hospital soon, you’ll be charged with murder.”

“I didn’t shoot him, Petey did. Excitable little bugger.”

Hank said, “Language, Jenks, language.”

Trapper was still holding the deputy’s implacable stare. In his mind, he was reconstructing Sunday night’s scenario, piecing it together, getting a fix on how it had played out from Jenks’s point of view. “Petey was quick on the draw. You didn’t expect that. Seconds after The Major was down, you noticed the powder room light go out.”

“Didn’t expect that, either,” Jenks said.

“There wasn’t supposed to be anybody else here.”

“No. She,” he said, glancing at Kerra, “was a mean surprise. Otherwise, I had it all worked out.”

Looking into the man’s rock-steady gaze, Trapper murmured, “But things didn’t go as planned.”

“You could say.”

“That was then.” Hank’s impatience drew Trapper’s attention back to him. The rifle barrel was still aimed at his chest. “This is now. And I’ve got this all worked out.”

Trapper made brief eye contact with Kerra. Her face was stark with fear. His own heart was stuttering, but, trying to keep his tone casual, he drawled, “You do? Just out of curiosity, Hank, how do you plan on killing the three of us and getting away with it?”

“I’m not going to kill anybody.” He forced Kerra’s index finger around the trigger. “Kerra is.”

“No!”

“I’ll let her choose who goes first.” Hank shifted the rifle’s barrel fractionally so the bore was now aimed at The Major. “She can put The Major out of his misery. That would be rather poetic, wouldn’t it? He saved her life, she ends his. The irony of it gives me cold chills. Or,” he said, aiming again at Trapper, “she can shoot you.”

“Not with that rifle she can’t. It isn’t loaded.” Trapper lowered his raised hands.

“Keep them up,” Hank shouted.

“No, no, no,” Kerra was saying as she strained against Hank’s increased pressure on her finger.

“Hank, for god’s sake, stop this.” The Major placed his hands on the arms of the recliner as though to lever himself up, but Jenks pulled him back and cocked his revolver.

Trapper kept his eyes trained on Kerra’s. “Pull the trigger.”

She gave a small but emphatic shake of her head.

“It’s not loaded,” Trapper said.

Hank laughed loudly in her ear, causing her to cringe. “Like I’d fall for that.”

“Did you check it, Hank?” Trapper asked.

Hank hesitated, “I didn’t need to.”

“Jenks always does what you tell him to?”

“Always.”

Trapper turned his head and looked at Jenks. No expression, solid as granite, nary a twitch, but keenly alert to every blink of an eye.

Trapper came back around to Hank. “If you’re sure the rifle is loaded, then seconds from now I’ll be dead, and you’ll be happy.”

“John, what are you doing?” The Major said, wheezing. “Stop provoking him.”

Trapper said, “Kerra, pull the trigger.”

“I can’t.” Her voice was mournful, barely audible.

“Nothing will happen.”

Hank chortled. “You’re bluffing, Trapper.”

“Pull the trigger, Kerra.”

“Trapper, please,” she sobbed. “I can’t.”

“Do you trust me?” he whispered,Her eyes probed his. She nodded.

“Then do it. Pull the trigger.”