Seeing Red

“And my bag,” Kerra said.

“Wasn’t me.”

“This morning—”

“Look,” Glenn said, dividing a look between him and Kerra. “I’m still wearing the badge, so I have to go through the motions. But that guy is too obvious. And Kerra said his voice was wrong. Do I think he’s being framed? Yes. Am I doing it? No.”

“Someone in your department?”

“Must be.”

“A Wilcox puppet?”

“Must be.”

“But you don’t know who?”

“No.”

Trapper didn’t quite believe that, but he let it pass for the time being and moved on. “Why’ve you been bloodhounding Kerra and me?”

“Because I’m afraid for you! For Kerra because they missed her the first time. For you because you came charging into town, breathing fire, making scenes, second-guessing every-goddamn-body, but especially me, and absconding with our only material witness.”

Glenn aimed a finger at him. “Don’t think for a minute I believe that cock-and-bull story about you finding Kerra’s earring under her hospital bed. You went to the crime scene, didn’t you? Don’t bother lying. I know you did. And you were out there again today.”

“Jenks told?”

“He did.”

“I hope he found the transmitter, and that he was up to his neck in sewage when he did.”

“Transmitter?”

“The tracking device you put on Kerra’s car.”

Glenn looked over at her with puzzlement, then came back to Trapper and raised his shoulders. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, but I wish I had thought of it. Because all you’ve been doing is making a bright red target of yourselves.”

Glenn had worked himself into a lather. Suddenly he flattened his hand against his heart. Trapper sat forward. Hank exclaimed, “Dad?” Kerra reached toward Glenn with apparent concern, but he waved her off. “I’m fine, I’m fine. They’ve got me on anti-anxiety pills.”

She said, “You shouldn’t be combining those with alcohol.”

“Maybe he’ll listen to you, Kerra,” Hank said. “He won’t listen to me.”

Trapper noticed that the angry archangel who’d slugged him this morning now looked defeated, but he doubted Hank’s dejection was solely for his father’s sake. Glenn’s treachery was going to be bad for Hank’s business. The offering plate yield might be lighter.

After Glenn regained his breath and fortified himself with another belt of whiskey, he continued, speaking directly to Trapper. “This morning, in my talk with The Major, he told me you’re still trying to build a case against Wilcox. That true? What have you got?”

When it became apparent that he wasn’t about to respond to that, Glenn sat back in his chair, and his expression turned ineffably sad. “I don’t blame you for not confiding that. I wouldn’t trust me, either.”

Trapper didn’t let himself be emotionally moved. “Where does it stand between you and Wilcox now? When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“As I was speeding out to the crime scene. I called from my unit, demanding to know what the hell he’d done, what was I going to find when I got out there? I was furious, heartsick. I was screaming, bawling, cursing him to perdition.”

“What did he say?”

“He claimed not to know what I was talking about. He hung up on me and hasn’t answered his phone to me since.”

Trapper thought on that, then asked Glenn if he and Wilcox had ever met face-to-face other than that first time.