“This this Sunday?” Glenn counted up the days, then flopped back against the slats of his chair. “The anniversary of the bombing.”

Trapper gave him a somber nod. “She went gaga over the house and setting, so I predict she may be planning to broadcast from there, not from a studio in Dallas. That’s why I stopped by tonight. If The Major consents to do it, your town, the whole damn county, will be overrun. This is a heads-up. Brace for the worst.”

Glenn groaned.

No doubt he realized the tactical implications of such an event taking place. And he still didn’t know the half of it. If Kerra had her way and she got to drop her bombshell on Sunday night, there would be an eruption of renewed interest in Lodal’s favorite son. Keeping the chaos under control would fall to Glenn Addison and his department.

That wasn’t at the heart of Trapper’s worry, though. His concerns were much more ominous than potential traffic jams.

Glenn looked at him glumly. “It may not happen. The Major may send her packing.”

“We can hope.” Trapper stood up. “I need to start back.”

“Before saying hello?” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the living area where a sonorous voice could be heard praying.

“Pass along my apologies to the family.”

Glenn leaned heavily on the edge of the table as he came unsteadily to his feet. “I appreciate the warning, Trapper.” He hesitated, then said, “Mind me asking what his reaction was to seeing you on his doorstep?”

“Civil but stilted.”

“If the girl hadn’t been there, it might have been colder.”

“If the girl hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have been on his doorstep.”

“When did you and The Major last speak?”

“The week I left the bureau.”

“Tore him up, John, that you were kicked out.”

“I quit.”

“Before they could kick you out. He never said, but I think that’s why he went hermit on us.”

“Yeah. I tarnished his hero’s image. Dulled his halo something awful.”

“Don’t say things like that. The Major—”

“Go easy on that whiskey.”

“Trapper, he—”

“Great seeing you, Glenn.” He left.

It had become full dark while he was inside, but as he skirted the yard, he managed to get Tracy’s attention and signaled her to meet him at the SUV. When she reached him, she danced a little jig. “I just scored a goal.”

Trapper fist-bumped her. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure. I owe you for the toilet thing.”

“Go inside and whisper to Hank that he needs to check on his dad.”

“How come?”

“He’s getting shit-faced.”

She shot him a grin. “I can do that.”

“Be discreet. I don’t want anybody embarrassed.”

“Got it. You can count on me.”

“You know what, Tracy?”

“What?”

“I think I want to marry you.”

The metal on her teeth flashed when she smiled. “You’re as wicked as they say.” Then she fist-bumped him again before dashing off.

As Trapper drove away, he thought how badly he hated tattling on Glenn, the man he’d known since birth, who’d always treated him like a second son.

Because of their shared vocations in law enforcement, Glenn had more in common with Trapper than with Hank, who was idealistic and optimistic, always finding the good in people and situations, never probing gray areas because to people like Hank gray areas didn’t exist.

Trapper had no faith in goodness and light. People and institutions were fallible and undependable. Fate was a cruel bastard. If a situation turned out all right, Trapper figured he’d simply gotten lucky, but his tendency was to expect calamity. As he did now.

Chapter 5

You’re going to love it!” Kerra said. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m envisioning Southfork.”

“No, more low-slung. Ranchy. Not as formal. His living room has a cathedral ceiling, exposed beams, and a natural stone fireplace that I could stand up in. I want to shoot the interview in that room with him seated in his leather recliner.”

Too excited to sit still as she described The Major’s house to her producer, Gracie Lambert, Kerra paced the narrow space between the motel room bed and the bureau.

“Keep talking,” Gracie said. “I’m taking notes. What’s he like?”

“Exactly the way you’d expect. Strong but humble. Kind eyes. He’s been on camera so much, he won’t need any coaching for that, but he and I are having a couple of getting-acquainted sessions. Come Sunday night, we’ll be at ease with each other. The first chitchat is tomorrow morning. I offered to bring doughnuts.”

“Doughnuts, chitchat, when no one else has been able to get near him for years.”

Gracie didn’t do giddy, but she was close to getting there tonight. Kerra couldn’t help but feel a little giddy herself.

“I can’t believe you pulled it off,” Gracie enthused. “How did you manage?”

The reminder of Trapper brought Kerra down from her near-high. She would have succeeded without his help, she supposed. But it wouldn’t have been as … interesting. However, she saw no reason to tell Gracie about him. He was a story for another day. Or better yet, never.

In reply to the producer’s question, she said simply, “I kept on keeping on.”

“Or waved a magic wand.”

Identifying herself in the photograph had worked as a magic wand to break down The Major’s barriers. He had held himself together. There’d been no tears of joy or even a drawn-out hug. But his voice had become unsteady with emotion.

Gracie, however, would go off like a skyrocket when she was told, which is why Kerra had decided not to break it to her until the final few hours before the interview. The production crew would need some advance notice so they could set up their camera angles for maximum impact when it was televised, but they would learn her secret only shortly before a vast viewing audience did.

“What’s the name of the motel?” Gracie followed the question by mumbling, “I can’t believe that word is even in my vocabulary, much less that I said it out loud.”

Kerra laughed. “It’s not The Mansion, but not too bad.”

“Indoor plumbing?”

“Only in the executive suites,” Kerra teased.

“I’ll start assembling a crew tonight,” Gracie said, “but when I tell the news director what I want them for, he’ll green-light every request. That is, he will after his heart attack, which he’s sure to have. I’ll try to have us up there by tomorrow night. Thursday midday at the latest.”

Kerra said, “In the meantime I’ll be busy. The Major—” A knock on the door interrupted her. “Oh, hold on, Gracie. My pizza’s here.” She pressed the phone against her chest and pulled open the door.

It wasn’t her pizza.

She’d never had a pizza delivery man standing with his hands braced high on the jamb, leaning in, filling up the entire opening and looking ready to go to war.

“I’ll call you back.” Before Gracie could object, she disconnected and silenced her phone. “I thought you were the pizza man.”

Trapper’s frown grew sterner. “You opened the door without checking?”

“I wasn’t expecting anybody but him. I certainly wasn’t expecting you.”

“Bad things happen when you least expect them.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I called your apartment building to see if you were back yet.”

“They wouldn’t tell you that.”

“The concierge would if you’d flirted with her and confided that you and I had a thing going.”

“We don’t have a thing going.”

“Right, but she’d seen us this morning sitting together in my car for—what? Half an hour? When we said goodbye, she hadn’t heard you tell me to go to hell.”