Following several outbursts of happy relief, a lady on the fringe of the group stated that The Major’s recovery was nothing short of a miracle, and there were murmurs of agreement. Hank’s wife, Emma, invited anyone who wished to pray to join her in the seating area. Several did. Others drifted toward the elevator bank but not before either hugging Trapper or shaking hands and asking him to pass along their regards to The Major, which he promised to do.
Soon only he, Hank, and Glenn remained huddled.
Hank eyed him with concern. “You okay? You look a little unsteady.”
“Post-traumatic relief. I’m good.”
“What would be good is if you left your goddamn cell phone on from now on,” Glenn grumbled. “Instead of me having to drive all over town in a blizzard looking for you.”
Trapper squared off with him. “I told you. I silenced my phone and slipped it into my coat pocket while you and those Texas Rangers were trying to decide between waterboarding or the rack. Kerra’s room was like a frickin’ greenhouse, so I took off my coat, which is why I didn’t feel my phone vibrate.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Are those hanging offenses?”
Hank divided a look between the two. “Am I missing something?”
“Tin Star here hauled me in for questioning.”
Hank turned to his dad and looked at him with surprise and perplexity.
Glenn was quick to defend himself. “After Kerra told me about the earring, what was I supposed to think?” he demanded of Trapper.
“I’ve already been asked that question once tonight, and I’m not going to honor it again. Think whatever you damn well want to.”
“What were you doing in Kerra’s motel room?”
“Giving her a piece of my mind for going behind my back with incriminating allegations.”
“Not what it looked like to me.”
Trapper didn’t respond to that.
Glenn continued. “She gave us relevant information, otherwise known as cooperating with a criminal investigation. Which is more than I can say for you.”
“Ask me anything.”
“Already did. You told me to screw off and walked out. It was all I could do to keep those Rangers from slapping you in lockup.”
Trapper put his hands on his hips, looked over at Hank, then came back to Glenn. “The Major and I haven’t spoken in years, and the animosity runs both ways, but do you seriously think I went out to his house, hid in the dark, and then shot him?”
“Of course not.”
“Well then, why the third degree?”
In an attempt to mediate, Hank, who by now had caught the gist of what was going on, held up his hand. “Dad was only doing his job, Trapper.”
“I know,” he muttered. “It still sucked.”
“I couldn’t play favorites with you just ’cause we’re friends,” Glenn argued. “It had to be official.”
“Agreed. But you could have called and asked me to come in. You didn’t have to send deputies to fetch me.”
Glenn, red-faced, cussed under his breath as he rhythmically tapped his cowboy hat against the outside of his thigh, but finally he took a breath and relaxed his stance. “I admit that it came off a little more official than I meant for it to.”
Not quite ready to forgive, Trapper held his silence again.
Glenn asked, “When do you think they’ll let me talk to The Major?”
“Not my department. Ask the doctor.”
“Was he lucid?”