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He was wearing his standard uniform. His hair was windblown. His scruff was the same as when he’d beat a hasty retreat from her motel room on Tuesday night, but there were dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn’t slept since then. He probably wouldn’t be sleeping much for days to come.
“Trapper,” she said with emotional huskiness, “I’m sorry.”
“Like Glenn said, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”
“The nation lost a hero. You lost your father. I don’t know how his murder could possibly be connected to the interview, but I feel—”
“Wait. Kerra. You think The Major’s dead?”
She inhaled a swift breath.
“He’s upstairs in ICU,” he said. “Barely alive, but not dead. He has a head wound, worse than superficial, but better than fatal. But that may not matter because a nine-millimeter bullet blew a hole in his left lung. Collapsed like a burst balloon. Massive blood loss. Odds are that he won’t make it, but for the present he’s hanging on.”
Tears of relief began coursing down her cheeks. “But he said…I heard him ask The Major how he liked being dead so far.”
Trapper hooked his foot around the leg of a chair, pulled it nearer the bed, and sat down. He planted his elbows on his thighs, tented his hands, and held them against his chin as he studied her. “Who said that?”
“The man who shot him. He thought he’d killed him. So did I.”
A tear slid from the outer corner of her eye and trickled toward her hairline. His eyes followed its path then held steady on her face, while her image of him was doubling and quadrupling, making her seasick.
“Tell me everything, Kerra. Talk me through it.”
“I can’t, Trapper. Not now. I’m dizzy. The doctor said I shouldn’t have visitors.”
“He didn’t say it to me.”
“I’m saying it to you.”
Actually, she didn’t want to be alone, but she also didn’t want to be pressured to answer questions right now.
He said, “When I came in, you were having a panic attack.”
“Yes.”
“What brought it on?”
“Nothing specific. I was fully conscious for the first time. Alone and aware of being alone. I got frightened. It all came rushing back, and I…”
“Felt you were in mortal danger again?”
“Yes.”
“Any flashbacks to the Pegasus bombing?”
“No. It was all about last night. I was in the powder room again and fearing whoever was on the other side of the door.” She thought back to the latch being shaken to test if it was locked. The soft, metallic rattling had been as menacing as that of an unseen diamondback.
Feeling the weight of Trapper’s stare, she collected herself. “The panic has passed. I’m fine now.”
He looked down at her hand. It was still gripping the sheet. She forced her fingers to relax and let go of the cloth.
“Did Glenn figure right?” he asked. “You escaped through the window?”
“That’s when I dislocated my shoulder.”
“What were you doing in the bathroom?”
“What one usually does in the bathroom.”
