“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?”
He tapped his jeans pocket. “Can I borrow your shower? And a razor? And I probably should go out and buy a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. I want to look respectable.”
Her phone rang again.
“You grab that,” he said. “I’ll hit the shower.”
“Razors are in the second drawer, right-hand side.” She beamed another smile at him. “I’m so glad for you.”
“Me too. The only thing they laughed at was when I told them Wilcox wanted full immunity. But I won’t break that to him till he gets there.”
He gave her a quick kiss and headed down the hallway. Her lips were tingling from the kiss when she answered the phone.
Gracie blared into her ear. “Well, it’s about time!”
“Hi, Gracie. I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch. The past couple days have been—”
“Never mind the apology. We have a hot-hot-hot story cooking.”
“I’m on sick leave.”
“Not anymore. It’s all hands on deck.”
“But—”
“Look, Kerra, I went to the mat for you when you bailed on the network interview. I took up for you because you were so shaky and feeble. Blah, blah. But I won’t cover for you on this. Besides, you wouldn’t want me to. I’m going to send a news van to pick you up outside your building in ten. Look sharp.”
Kerra wasn’t ready to plunge back in, but Trapper was going to be busy, and if things went well for him today, he was going to be a lot busier for months to come. She couldn’t be of any more help to him today, and, after all, she had a job to protect. Or salvage.
“All right. In ten. What’s the hot-hot-hot story?”
A few minutes later, she went into the master bathroom. Trapper saw her through the shower stall door and leered. “You’re just in time to wash my back. Or my front.”