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“What did he want from you? Absolution?”
“Very little, actually. He was growing increasingly concerned that Dad would crack. He was getting older, more sentimental, maudlin when he drank too much, which was all the time. Wilcox wanted me to do to him what Dad had been doing to The Major.”
“Spying.”
The Major’s succinct remark surprised Trapper. Sensing that, The Major looked up at him. “Hank told me about your visit with Glenn last night, his confessions.”
“It wasn’t an easy or pleasant hour for me.”
“I believe that, John.”
The Major looked dejected and resigned, but even more worrisome to Trapper was that he seemed to be physically diminishing with every passing moment. He wanted to hear everything Hank had to say about his adversarial relationship with Wilcox, but he needed to hurry him along.
“Okay, so you refused to sign Wilcox’s pledge. He took umbrage with your audacity, got huffy, issued some threats. ‘You don’t have any idea who you’re up against.’ That kind of thing. But Wilcox had good game.”
“You must admit,” Hank said, “his method worked for decades.”
“Centuries. It’s Machiavellian. Not original but effective, and you took your cue. You showed him. You killed his daughter.”
“Not I, of course.”
“Right. We concluded that you’re too chicken-livered. Who’d you send to do it?”
“I had shown the path of righteousness to a former drug user.”
“Cost of redemption: one murder.”
Hank’s smile turned angelic. “God works in mysterious ways.”
“So does the devil.” Trapper’s smile was more like the latter’s. “Remember when I said you were screwed and didn’t even know it? Well, you didn’t sign Wilcox’s pledge, so the feds don’t have your signature. But they do have—because I handed it over to them—a list Wilcox conveniently typed and alphabetized. Now, take a wild guess whose name he added?”
Wilcox had done no such thing. Hank’s name hadn’t been on the roster, but maybe Hank would believe it was. It was very like something Wilcox would have done out of sheer spite.
“Sorry, Hank,” Trapper said with feigned regret and took a step toward him.
Hank jabbed the rifle forward. “You’re lying.”
“You can kill me, but the FBI still has those names, and Kerra can testify as to how I came by them. She can attest to everything.”
“Then I’m doubly glad she beat it up here to cover The Major’s release from the hospital.”
Trapper’s stomach plunged. “What?”
“Oh, I see you’re taken aback,” he mocked. “You didn’t know that.” Then, “Kerra?”
She appeared in the doorway between the living room and the hall. Jenks’s left hand was wrapped around her biceps. In his right was a revolver, the caliber of which you didn’t argue with.
Kerra’s lips were almost white with fear, but she was putting up a brave front. “Gracie gave me your message. I tried to reach you.”
“The phone ran out of juice.”
“They warned The Major and me that if we signaled you that I was here, we would all die.”
“I think that’s the plan anyway.” Trapper gave her only a half smile, but he hoped she realized that it was brimming with apology and regret.
“Jenks, bring her over here,” Hank said. Jenks propelled her forward, and when she was within reach, Hank took her arm and jerked her in front of him, facing Trapper. “Take hold of the rifle.”
“Go to hell,” she said and elbowed him in the stomach.
