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“So I’ve been told.”
“He might’ve got off a shot or two, even if it was recoil. If we’d been hit, it would’ve left blood. Evidence. I disabled him by knocking him out.”
“A shotgun blast to the head would have disabled him.”
Jenks frowned his regret. “Hindsight.”
The man pursed his lips as though thinking it over. “It was Petey’s mistake. He should have made certain his shot was fatal. He didn’t, and now we’re in a fix. This isn’t the first time he’s messed up. He’s excitable and likes to boast. Which makes him a risk we can no longer afford.” He then leaned across the table, crooked his finger, and lowered his voice to a whisper.
Several minutes later, Jenks left the room, having been given the same order as his cohort had been issued a few minutes earlier. It would be interesting to see which of the two returned. Whoever did would have proven himself to be blindly obedient and absolutely ruthless.
The man sat back in his chair, fingered the adorned leather case of Kerra Bailey’s cell phone. She had made that stunning revelation during the interview, no doubt counting on it to further her career.
Rather than to end her life.
Trapper checked into the motel where Kerra had been staying since Tuesday. Once settled into his room, he called Carson.
“These calls are getting old, Trapper,” he growled. “If you need somebody to talk to in the middle of the night, why don’t you get married.”
“The Major’s been shot.”
After several seconds of silence, Carson blurted, “Gunshot?”
“He’s alive, but only by a thread.”
More silence, then, “You’re not kidding.”
“No.”
“Jesus, man. This is unreal. My bride and me took a timeout to watch the interview.”
“Happened a couple of hours after it.”
“We shut off the TV and went to bed early.”
He gave Carson a rundown of the chain of events. “I just left the hospital. She looks like Rocky, and he’s critical.”
“Swear to God, Trapper, I don’t know what to say. You see the interview? They dropped quite a bombshell.” After a beat, he groaned, “Oh hell, bad word choice.”
“It’s okay. It was a bombshell.”
“Are you all right? I mean, you know, he’s your dad and all.”
“I’m all right.”
“You’re compartmentalizing.”
Carson must’ve picked that up from Dr. Phil, but damn if it wasn’t accurate.
“Are you gonna stay up there?”
“Yeah,” Trapper said. “I need to be here. My car’s still not ready, so I had to bring the loaner. If the body shop wants to tack on a few days’ rental, I’ll understand.”
“Okay. I’ll let the guy know. I’m sure he’s cool with you keeping it for a while longer.”
“Thanks.”
“Does anybody know what happened? Any suspects?”
