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“Not unless something changes, but I don’t anticipate it. He’s been moving his hands and feet. Reflexively, but that’s still a positive sign. His vitals remain stable and strong. He’s not out of the woods,” he said with empha
sis, “but these incremental improvements are encouraging.”
“Have you reported this to the doctors in Dallas?”
From the outset, the doctor had been consulting with a team of specialists, former colleagues of his. “They share my optimism. Your father is stable enough now to be transported to Dallas or Fort Worth, if you’d rather have him there. I could make the arrangements. But with the weather…” He let that hang and looked at Trapper. “It’s your call.”
“He’s improving on your watch. I say leave him be.”
“Thank you, Mr. Trapper. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
He detailed a few more aspects of The Major’s condition. Most of the medical jargon went over Trapper’s head, but the underlying message was that the patient was making progress.
Which is what Trapper told Glenn as he settled into the passenger side of the sheriff’s sludge-covered unit and buckled his seat belt. Glenn had driven right up to the hospital exit, emergency lights flashing, allowing Trapper to leave without being hounded by reporters, who’d been restricted to an area behind a barricade. Some stood outside, backs to the frigid wind, stamping their feet in a vain attempt to keep warm. Others sat inside vehicles surrounded by the vapor coughed from their exhaust pipes.
“Lordy, lordy, that’s good news,” Glenn said as he steered the unit onto the street.
“He’s not totally in the clear. The doctor doesn’t want to build hopes up. But his outlook is definitely more upbeat. Where are we going?”
“Since you turned down breakfast, I’ll just circle the block.”
“It’s such a nice day for a drive,” Trapper remarked, looking through the sleet on the windshield.
“We need to talk uninterrupted,” Glenn said. “I brought you some coffee.”
Trapper pulled the sleeved cup from the holder in the console, removed the lid and sipped. It was tepid, but he needed the jolt of caffeine.
They drove past the municipal park, where tree branches were becoming glazed with ice.
“Remember that shindig the town threw for your daddy? Right out there,” Glenn said, pointing through the driver’s window. “Citywide barbecue on the Fourth of July. Texas Tech band. Banners. You remember?”
“Yes.” He remembered it well because he’d been required to miss a Little League championship game in order to be standing beside The Major when he received a key to the city and a plaque from the town council. Missing that stupendous event hadn’t been an option.
But he doubted a stroll down memory lane was the purpose of this outing that required no interruption. “What’s up, Glenn?”
“I heard Kerra Bailey had a visitor last night. Bearing pretty pink flowers.”
It came as no surprise to Trapper that Glenn knew about it. Deputy Jenks would’ve reported back to him. Besides, Trapper hadn’t exactly made a secret of the hospital visit.
“Actually, the flowers were red with a butt-ugly bow. I bought them on special at QuikMart when I went in for a six-pack.”
Glenn kept driving, saying nothing.
“I had watched the interview,” Trapper said, trying not to sound defensive. “I wanted to tell her what a good job she’d done.”
“Okay. What about the time before, when you went back after you and I had left the hospital together?”
In response to the implied hand-slapping, Trapper stretched his legs out as far as he could in the confined foot well and drank from his cup of coffee with affected nonchalance. “The doctor ran us out before I’d heard what I wanted to hear.”
“What was that?”
“Whether or not she saw the men who shot The Major.”
“You ask her?”
“Yes.”
“What’d she say?”
