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“Happens I do.”
Her mouth was stamped with all things wonderfully masculine: the agreeable prickliness of scruff, the sureness of lips that knew what they wanted and how to get it, the deft and possessive slide of tongue.
All too soon it was over. He set her away from him but kept his hand clamped around the back of her neck for a few seconds longer, his eyes searching hers.
Then Kerra was struck with a blast of cold air, and he was gone.
Chapter 6
The present
Jesus, who’d’ve believed it? Only a few hours after that interview, now she looks like she’s been run over by a tank, and The Major…”
The whispered words drifted toward Kerra through the fog of semiconsciousness, and she resented the intrusion. She preferred being wrapped in the warm cocoon of oblivion.
The voice continued with a question. “Have you seen him?”
“They wouldn’t let me in yet.”
“Just as well. He looks bad. I won’t shit you.”
“Thanks for calling me when you did, Glenn.”
“Soon as I got out there, saw the mess. God, it was awful.”
“I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”
Kerra wanted them to stop talking. She’d been kept in what the medical staff had called a twilight state. She’d been able to respond as they’d assessed and treated her injuries: Kerra, can you lift your arm? Does this hurt? This may sting a little. Lie still so we can get a good image.
After what had seemed like hours of torture, she’d been left alone and allowed to sleep. But now wakefulness was encroaching, and she didn’t welcome it. She was reluctant to return to the bright, cruel place where horrible memories lay in wait.
But avoidance was cowardly. She pried open her eyes.
Two men stood at the foot of her bed.
The one in uniform was Sheriff Addison. The two times she’d met him this week, he’d been wearing the cowboy hat he was now holding at his side.
Beside him was Trapper, looking directly at her with eyes as piercing and incisive as laser beams.
The sheriff was saying, “After the interview, she’d stayed behind while the rest of them went to fuel up their van. According to her producer, Kerra wanted to say a private goodbye to The Major and thank him for giving her the ‘holy grail of interviews.’ That’s a quote.” After a pause, he said, “John, when you came to my house the other night, did you know she was the kid in the picture?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Wasn’t my secret to divulge.”
The sheriff sighed heavily. “I guess Kerra and The Major didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
Trapper said darkly, “They got their surprise, all right.”
Kerra’s heart constricted. It hadn’t been a nightmare, then. The Major was dead, and she’d heard the gunshot that had killed him. She closed her eyes again and wished she could will herself back into the dusky bliss of forgetfulness.
But the disruptive recital continued.
“When the crew came back for her, they found The Major lying across the threshold of his front door. Called 911. First responders told me that when they got there, those people were huddled in their van, freaking out. Not only had they seen what nobody should ever have to see, but for all they knew the killer was lurking around, and they were scared for their friend here, who was nowhere to be found.
“Meanwhile, I was working late at the office catching up on paperwork. A deputy tapped on the door and told me there was an emergency situation out at The Major’s place. I asked him the nature of the emergency, and he said he didn’t know. But he did, because he couldn’t look me in the eye.
