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“I don’t have a choice.” He looked her over carefully. “You seem to have come through it without any noticeable damage.”
“Yes, most of my scratches—”
“I wasn’t referring to Sunday. I was talking about the time you’ve spent with John.”
Although she wasn’t sure whether he’d meant that as a joke, she treated it as one. “Granted. He can be a real pain in the butt.”
But The Major was no longer looking at her. He was looking at Trapper. “Back to my original question, what have you been up to?”
“What do you know about Thomas Wilcox?”
Kerra hadn’t expected Trapper to bring up Wilcox so soon, and The Major seemed as struck by his blunt question as she. His eyebrows drew together above the bridge of his nose. “Dallas real estate? That Thomas Wilcox?”
“Do you know him?”
“I met him once. He attended a banquet where I delivered the after-dinner speech. He came up afterward and introduced himself.”
“Hmm. That’s interesting.”
“Why?”
“How’d he act?”
“Act? As I recall, he was very pleasant.”
“Did he mention the Pegasus?”
“Only in the context of complimenting me on my talk.” The Major looked over at Kerra before going back to Trapper. “Why bring him up?”
“You ever hear any dirt on him?”
“No. But he and I hardly run in the same circles.”
“Shady business practices? Winner take all? Hear anything like that?”
“I wouldn’t have had occasion to.”
“Did you know he coveted the plot of ground under the Pegasus Hotel?”
Kerra watched The Major’s expression grow increasingly stern as he began to grasp Trapper’s meaning. “What are you driving at, John?”
“Go back a year or two before the bombing and scan through the business sections of the Dallas Morning News. It’s well documented how Wilcox tried like hell to acquire that property. No dice. Oil company didn’t want to sell.” He paused before adding, “But Wilcox wound up with it after all.”
The Major stared at his son for a moment, then put his middle finger and thumb to his eye sockets in a manner that reminded Kerra of Trapper when he was forced to think about something he’d rather not.
“Three years ago,” The Major said, “when you came to me with your theory of a mastermind behind the bombing, you refused to give me a name. Please don’t tell me that Thomas Wilcox, a millionaire—”
“A millionaire many times over. Partially because of the hotel and entertainment complex in the heart of downtown that he developed on the tract where the Pegasus had been.”
“You think Thomas Wilcox instigated the bombing?”
“Let’s just say he had his nerve even attending a banquet where a survivor of it was speaking, much less coming up to you afterward and being pleasant and complimentary.”
The Major shook his head sorrowfully. “If this is the speculation you took to the ATF, it’s no wonder they fired you.”
Had The Major slapped him, Trapper’s hardened expression couldn’t have been more telling. He turned on his heel and headed for the door. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
The Major tried to call him back. “John.”
