A minivan Trapper recognized as Hank’s was parked in front of The Major’s house.
Trapper sped through the gate and kicked up dust on the drive. He braked so hard the car skidded before coming to a jarring stop. He was out of it in a blur and bounding up the steps to the porch.
The door was unlocked. Trapper rushed in. Then stopped dead in his tracks.
The Major was in his recliner but sitting upright. He looked pale and weak, shaky and shrunken, but also enraged.
Standing over him was Hank, who backed up a few steps and swung the barrel of the rifle he was holding away from The Major and toward Trapper, who said, “What the hell are you doing?”
Hank replied, “Isn’t it obvious?”
“No Bible?”
“This gets attention faster.”
“In anybody else’s hands, maybe. You just look like a jackass.”
Trapper was cracking wise, but his gut had drawn up as tight as a drum, and he was attuned to every nuance of Hank’s tone and expression, because his finger was tapping against the trigger of the deer rifle.
But his father’s labored breathing was Trapper’s immediate concern. “I’m going to sue that hospital for letting you leave.”
“He told me we were going to search for Glenn together.” He raised his chin toward Hank. “Instead he drove me here. Took that rifle from the cabinet…”
“Save your breath,” Trapper said. “I can figure out the rest.” His thinking had snagged on the need to search for Glenn. He was desperate to have that explained, but first he had to disarm Hank. “Do you even know how to load that thing?”
“It was loaded for me.”
“Huh. Let me guess. Jenks?”
“Handy guy.”
“I’m sure. But come on, Hank. Put down the rifle before you hurt somebody.”
“I’d love to start with you.”
“You never could hit the broad side of a barn. You’d miss me, and then I would have to kill you, and I don’t want to. Not because I’d miss you or anything, but it would be hard on your family.”
“Slowly, using one hand, remove your holster.”
“Holster?”
“If you don’t do it now, I’ll shoot The Major.”
“With the rifle my mom gave him? That’s unsportsmanlike.”
“Do it, Trapper.”
The gleam in Hank’s eyes made him look maniacal enough to turn this standoff bloody. Trapper couldn’t risk that until he had a better grasp of what was going on. “In order to reach my holster with one hand, I have to take off my coat.”
“Slowly.”
Trapper shrugged the coat off his shoulders, then let the sleeves slide down his arms. It fell to the floor. Reaching behind him with one hand, he detached his holstered nine-millimeter from his waistband.
“Now pitch it over your shoulder.”
“That’s dangerous. I’m not sure the safety is on.”
“Do it.”
He tried to pinpoint the spot of the thud against hardwood when the holster landed.
“Keep your hands raised,” Hank said.
Trapper held them at shoulder height. “Now what? We stand here until one of us caves? Your lifetime record for holding out is for shit, you know.”
“Shut up!”
The Major’s breathing whistled when he inhaled. “Hank, why are you doing this? Have you lost your mind?”
“His soul, I think,” Trapper said. “What’s this about having to search for Glenn?”
The Major said, “He hasn’t been seen or heard from since last night.”
“He was called away from the house,” Hank said.
Trapper didn’t like the sound of that, or the gloating expression on Hank’s face. “Called away?”
“By Deputy Jenks.”
“Department business?”
“Not exactly.”
“What exactly?”
Hank said, “I notified Jenks that Dad had—as you put it—grown a conscience and spilled his guts. Which presented us with a problem. Jenks lured him out to The Pit. No more problem.”
“He killed Glenn? Jesus Christ,” The Major whispered. “Why?”
Trapper said, “Because the reverend here wanted to take over for Thomas Wilcox as chief bad guy.” Trapper snickered. “But the thing is, Hank is so screwed and doesn’t even know it.”
“Whatever your con is this time, Trapper, I’m not falling for it.”
“No con. Hadn’t you heard? Wilcox is dead.”
“Oh, I heard all the gory details. Your girlfriend reported them from outside the Wilcox mansion.”
“What you don’t know, but I think that maybe now is the time to enlighten you, is that Kerra and I were inside the mansion last night with Wilcox.”
Hank guffawed.
“Cross my heart.”
“You went to see Wilcox?”
“After leaving you.”
“And he welcomed you with open arms?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. But over the past few days, he and I had formed a mutually beneficial quasi-partnership.” Trapper stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see you’re taken aback. You didn’t know that.” He sighed and ruefully shook his head. “Yeah, time was that Tom even had me at gunpoint but couldn’t bring himself to kill me. Instead we talked through our differences—”
“Get back to last night.”
“Or what? You’re going to shoot me? I don’t believe you will. Although you’ve already hurt my feelings. I know you’re pissed at me for sending you out to that line shack, but isn’t this taking your payback a little far?”
“Get on with it,” Hank snapped.
“I forgot where I was. Oh, yeah. We three—Wilcox, Kerra, and I—had two interesting conversations, the most recent being around one o’clock this morning.”
“Did you tell him that Dad had betrayed him?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t give a damn if you believe it or not. It’s the truth.”
“Then what was discussed during this meeting which I still don’t believe ever took place?”
“Serious stuff, and I’m not joshing you. Wilcox had the one thing, shy of a signed confession, that would persuade the feds to reopen the Pegasus bombing case. He agreed to give it to me.”
“Wilcox wouldn’t give you the time of day, much less anything that would incriminate him.”
“Ordinarily, no. At first he was coy, the dealmaker, the wheeler-dealer. You know how he was. He was holding out for a guarantee of full immunity. But those are details that probably don’t interest you or anyone except federal prosecutors.”
“Get on with it,” Hank repeated, this time straining the words between his teeth.
“If you’d stop interrupting…Suffice to say only one thing would have compelled Wilcox to come to a burnout like me and ask me to negotiate a deal for him.”
“Well?”
“Vengeance for his daughter’s murder.”
Hank blinked, always a giveaway.
“He made me promise to make that a priority.” Speaking softly, Trapper said, “Who’d you get to do it for you? Because I know you don’t have the stomach or the balls to have done it yourself.”
“Shut up, Trapper.”