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In a none too subtle invitation for Carson to leave, Trapper opened the door, took Carson’s hand, and slapped a set of car keys into his palm.
“Oh, right. Almost forgot.” Carson dug into his trousers pocket, produced a key fob and gave it to Trapper. “Around the north corner of the building. Last in the row. Maroonish sedan.”
“Thanks.” Trapper pocketed the key fob. “And thanks again for rushing up here on short notice. Let me know when I can return the favor.”
“You can start by paying me the eight-fifty you owe me just for today.”
“Dream on.”
“Okay, three-fifty.”
“I could mention to the Texas Bar Association that—”
“Two-fifty.”
“Goodbye, Carson.”
Trapper closed the door on him and leaned back against it as though to barricade it should Carson try to return. Kerra asked, “Why did you swap keys?”
“He’s taking his brother-in-law’s car back. He left me the one he drove up here from Fort Worth.”
“Why?”
“Because I wouldn’t put it past Glenn to have had a tracking device put on that ugly car while we were inside the sheriff’s office. If I need to get lost again, he’ll be tracking Carson, not me.”
“You think of everything.”
“No. I don’t.” With those three words, his tone became weighty and solemn, and so did his demeanor. “That’s what has kept me up nights for the past three years. And since Sunday, it’s only gotten worse, not better.”
He looked at her pensively for several moments, then gave one shake of his head as though having reached a tough decision. “It’s expected of me to go off half-cocked, but this chasing around isn’t for you. I was wrong to make you part of it. Go back to Dallas and, as you said, do your thing. I’ll do mine.” He gestured toward her bag again. “You left some things in the bathroom.”
Rather than moving to collect her belongings as he’d indicated, she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Why are you still chasing around?”
“I want justice.”
“Of course that. But if that’s all you wanted, you could go to the authorities right now with what you have on Wilcox.”
“And give them another belly laugh? No thanks.”
“This time you have Wilcox himself.”
“He would deny that meeting in my office ever took place.”
“I would bear witness to it.”
“True. But you can’t prove what we talked about.”
“Yes, I can.”
Not expecting that, he gave her a sharp look.
“Get the phone you had when you threatened to call 911.”
He walked over to the bed and rummaged in the pockets of his coat until he found that particular phone, took the back off, and placed a battery in it.
Kerra said, “I carried the phone with me when I went to the window. My back was turned for ten minutes. I went to voice memos on the home page and pressed record. I was scared to death Wilcox would notice. Or the guy in the window across the street. I guess his sights were set on the center of my forehead, not my hands.”
By now the phone was powered up. Trapper went to the voice memos icon and tapped play.
