Her wish was that they would dismiss both as being of no importance. But she didn’t believe they would. Her palms turned damp. “One involves the sequence of events.”
She related how someone had tried opening the powder room door before she heard the gunshot. “Everything happened in rapid succession after that. Because of the meds, the concussion, when I gave my account to the detectives I got the timing mixed up.”
“You only realized this discrepancy later?” the sheriff asked.
“Yes. When I wasn’t so woozy.” If she told them that clarity had come to her during a nightmare they would think she was crazy. “But now I’m certain that someone tried to open that door before the first shot.”
“Must’ve been the assailants.”
“Possibly,” she said, “but they approached from the main room after the gunshot, not before. And they weren’t stealthy. I followed each footstep.”
One of the Rangers said, “You didn’t hear approaching footsteps the first time someone tried the door?”
“No. I wasn’t aware of anyone being there until the latch rattled.”
The same Ranger asked, “Are you suggesting that someone else was inside the house, a third suspect?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m only telling you how I’m remembering it now.”
No one said anything for several moments, then the second Ranger addressed her. “After the crew left, how long were you and The Major there alone before you excused yourself to go to the bathroom?”
“Fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“You stayed in the main room that whole time?”
“Yes. Neither of us left it until I excused myself.”
“So somebody could have come in through a door or window at the back of the house?”
“I suppose.”
“Were lights on in the other rooms?”
“No.” She gave a faint smile. “Our setup required a lot of electricity. We used several circuits. The Major complained how that would run up his next bill. He was teasing, but the crew was conscientious about turning out lights when we were finished.
“As I left the living room and went into the hall, it was very dark.” She told them she had switched on the bathroom light even before shutting the door and remembered turning it off immediately after realizing it would give away her presence.
The sheriff said, “You didn’t see anything suspicious, or off somehow, that would make you think now that somebody was in one of the back rooms?”
“Nothing.”
Kerra wasn’t sure what to make of the look that passed among the three men before the sheriff came back to her. “Kerra, what I’m about to tell you isn’t for disclosure.”
“All right.”
“It’s a fact we’ve been holding back because we don’t know what to make of it, and when we have a suspect to question—”
“You want to see if he’s aware of it, whatever it is.”
“That’s correct.” He paused, then said, “The Major’s deer rifle was within his arm’s reach when the first responders arrived.”
“He was probably putting it away.”
The three men shared another look. One of the Rangers asked, “He had it out of the cabinet while you were there?”
“Yes.” She explained The Major’s sentimental attachment to the rifle. “After showing it to me, he propped it against the wall and went over to the bar to pour a drink. He was probably putting it away when he was attacked.”
The three sat back in their chairs, their body language conveying that was a plausible explanation for something that had intrigued them. Sheriff Addison said, “We conjectured that maybe he had heard something at the back of the house, or heard the culprits coming up the porch steps, and went for the rifle to protect himself. It wasn’t loaded, but he could’ve scared somebody into thinking it was.”
In a soft voice, Kerra said, “If only he’d had the chance.”
He nodded glumly, coughed behind his fist, then said, “What’s the second detail that may or may not be significant?”
She rolled her lips inward, which made the abraded corner of her mouth sore, which reminded her of why she dreaded this so desperately and wouldn’t be doing it at all except that it was the right, moral, and legal thing to do. “It concerns my missing bag.”
“It’s turned up?”
“No, sheriff. But something I’m certain was inside it has been returned to me.”
He registered astonishment. “By who?”
Chapter 11
Contrary to the relief Kerra had expected to feel upon being dismissed and allowed to leave the sheriff’s office, she hunched in the backseat of the deputy-driven patrol car, feeling despondent and generally miserable.
Her head ached dully but without letup. Her coat had been returned to her, but it was inadequate against the Siberian express, which had hit the plains of North Texas where there was nothing to block it except for barbed-wire fences. Over the course of the afternoon, roads had become increasingly hazardous.
Her car, now encased in ice, was still in the motel parking lot where she’d left it Sunday morning to join the crew in the production van for the short trip out to The Major’s spread. That seemed a long time ago.
Gracie had checked her back into the room she’d previously occupied, where a welcome back party was already in full swing when the deputy delivered her. Dazed by the ill-timed surprise, Kerra reunited with the rest of the crew who, despite the inclement weather, had rounded up burgers and beer and helium-filled balloons that bobbed and swayed from various anchors in the crowded room.
She tried to be gracious and get into the festive spirit, but Gracie must have sensed her downcast mood. As soon as the burgers had been demolished, the producer shooed the others out.
“Maybe our celebration was a bit much with you just out of the hospital,” she said, plopping cross-legged in the center of Kerra’s bed with her tablet in her lap. “But we need to go over some particulars about tomorrow.”
“Gracie, if you’re referring to the interview, there may not be a ‘tomorrow.’”
“I’m betting on a thumbs-up. In which case, we have to be ready.”
Kerra had struggled with the decision over whether or not to agree to be interviewed about her private time with The Major. After weighing the pros and cons, she’d decided that Gracie had given her a solid piece of advice. Shouldn’t she take advantage of this tragic, yet exceptional, set of circumstances? She hadn’t worked this hard, gotten this far, to blow it now. The industry was cutthroat and unforgiving. To pass on this opportunity could amount to career suicide.
But, as Trapper had predicted, neither Sheriff Addison, the Rangers, nor anyone involved in the investigation was enthusiastic when she broached the subject at the conclusion of her questioning.