by Mel Odom
Will had to admit that was true.
“Shel is conflicted about going home,” Maggie said.
Since she was the team profiler, Will was certain Maggie knew what she was talking about.
“And if Victor Gant threatened his family,” Maggie went on, “he’d definitely stay with us. We offer the best chance at finding out where Gant is.”
Will nodded. He couldn’t argue the logic. He’d been chasing the same conjecture.
“So what’s changed?” Maggie asked.
“I don’t know. That’s why I thought I’d ask Estrella.”
>> 1919 Hours
“Shel didn’t mention anything to me about going home,” Estrella said. She sat in the ergonomic chair at her station and looked worried. “Usually he tells me everything that’s on his mind.”
“Not everything,” Maggie said. “I don’t think Shel tells anybody everything.” She glanced apologetically at Estrella. “Though he tells you more than most.”
Will looked out over the workroom. Several other NCIS agents were in their cubicles, striving to clear their caseloads.
Estrella looked troubled. “There is one thing that he talked to me about that I haven’t told you.”
That drew Will’s instant attention. “Now would be a good time to discuss that.”
“It doesn’t seem like it connects anywhere.” Estrella turned her attention back to the computer. Her fingers glided across the keyboard in swift syncopation. “Shel asked me to look up his father’s service record.”
“His father was in Vietnam,” Will said.
“I know.”
“Shel doesn’t talk much about his father,” Maggie said.
“No,” Will agreed.
“How did you know he was in Vietnam?”
“Because I know that Shel’s father is a sore point with him. When Shel mentions him, I listen.”
“Have you ever asked him about his father?”
“No,” Will said. “Men try not to do things like that to each other.”
“Right,” Maggie said. “But you’re not just a man. You’re also his commanding officer.”
“I play the counselor role when a man needs me to. But I wait for him to make that decision. I don’t make it for him.” Will stared at the computer screen. “What was Shel looking for concerning his father?”
“I don’t know,” Estrella said. “Not exactly. I know he was interested in finding out if Victor Gant was ever in Qui Nhon.”
“What’s Qui Nhon?” Maggie asked.
“A key port for American forces in the Vietnam War,” Will answered. “A lot of people passed through there.”
“‘A lot of people’ included Tyrel McHenry and Victor Gant,” Estrella said.
Maggie moved in closer as well. “Both of them were there?”
Estrella nodded. “It looks like they were there for a time together.”
“Same unit?” Will asked.
“No. Different units. But both of them were assigned to units that patrolled the roads in and out of Qui Nhon. Those roads were regularly attacked.”
“Because they were major supply lines for the American offensive,” Will said. “They drew a lot of heat. And the PBRs—”
“Sorry,” Maggie broke in, “what are PBRs?”
“It stands for Patrol Boat, River,” Estrella answered. “They were fast-attack watercraft used for attacking North Vietnamese boats and ships and for attacking ground units within striking distances of the rivers.”
“And they were a big threat to the North Vietnamese,” Will finished.
“If Victor Gant and Shel’s father were both there at the same time,” Maggie said, “you have to ask yourself if they knew each other.”
“I think that’s what Shel wanted to know,” Estrella said.
“Did he ask you to find out?” Will asked.
“No. But he did ask me to match up his father’s time there with what we knew about Victor Gant.”
“Does Shel know they were there at the same time?”
“He does.”
“When did you tell him?”
“Shortly after his return to Lejeune.”
“If Shel’s known about that this long,” Maggie said, “why is it so interesting to him?”
“Because Victor Gant threatened Shel’s family,” Will said.
“Do you think it has something to do with what happened back then?” Estrella asked.
“Did you find anything to suggest there’s a link?”
“Other than the fact that Tyrel McHenry and Victor Gant could have known each other, nothing.”
“Even if they did know each other,” Maggie said, “they’d have been, what, twenty or twenty-five years old? Suddenly, forty years later, that’s going to matter?”
Will stared at the photograph of a young Army private. Tyrel McHenry had been little more than a boy, not much older than Steven when he’d been dropped into Vietnam. Thinking back on that war, thinking about the one in Iraq, Will realized again that war often ran on the lives of the young.
“Did you talk to Shel about this?” Will asked.
“A little.”
“Did he give you any idea what he was looking for?”
“No. He just asked about the time frames.”
Will considered that. “As I think back on it, until today Shel hasn’t had any contact with Gant. Anybody remember it any differently?”
Maggie and Estrella answered negatively.
“But if Shel asked about the time frames while he was in Charleston,” Will said, “someone had to have told him. And only two people would have known whether Tyrel McHenry and Victor Gant knew each other.”
“I talked to Don,” Maggie said. “Shel was agitated one day. He didn’t talk much. I asked Don about it, and he said that they’d gotten a phone call from their father in the middle of the night.”
Will turned that over in his mind. Although he hadn’t said anything when Shel’s father didn’t put in an appearance at the hospital after Shel was so grievously wounded, he’d wondered.
“What was the phone call about?” Will asked.
Maggie shook her head. “Don didn’t know. But he said ever since he’d gotten the call from his father, Shel had been agitated.”
“I didn’t notice it.”
“You,” Maggie said, “had your hands full dealing with getting Bobby Lee Gant’s body back here and leading the investigation there.”
Will took in a breath and let it out. He had been busy. He was still busy. But he got the distinct feeling that Shel McHenry was taking a long stride toward trouble.
Maybe big trouble.
“How much time have you spent on these files?” Will asked.
Estrella shook her head. “Not much. Shel only wanted me to confirm any overlap. I did that.”
“We need more.” Will rubbed his tired eyes. “Prioritize this and dig into it like it was an ongoing investigation.”
“All right.”
“But keep it quiet.”
Estrella nodded. “How quiet?”
“If Shel calls and asks, don’t tell him we’ve got an interest in it.”
A troubled look twisted Estrella’s features. “I don’t like doing that.”
“I know. Neither do I. But whatever’s inside pushing Shel has got him in a death grip. If he finds out we’re digging into his turf, he’s not going to handle it well. I don’t want his distraction with what we’re doing to get him killed. Victor Gant tried to kill him today. I don’t think he’s finished.”
“Understood.”
“Good.” Will nodded at the file Estrella had open on her computer. “Send me whatever pertinent data you’ve turned up. I want to take a look at it.”
“All right,” Estrella replied.
“Maggie,” Will continued, “maybe you should background the people involved in this.”
“I will,” Maggie responded.
“Good. As soon as you get everything together, let me know.”
>> 2038 Hours
The phone rang while Will was working on the paperwork from the previous night’s homicide. He was running on fumes and he knew it. He lifted the handset and answered.
“Commander,” a gruff voice with a heavy accent said, “this is Sheriff Dale Conover. I got a message says you called me.”
“I did,” Will said. “Thanks for getting back to me. I’ve got an agent who lives outside of Fort Davis.”
“Shelton McHenry. Tyrel’s boy.”
It seemed funny that anyone would call Shel somebody’s boy. Will grinned a little at that but tried to keep it out of his voice.
“That’s right,” Will said. “Do you know Shel?”
“A little.” A hint of a smile crept into the sheriff’s voice. “When Shel was a pup, he didn’t exactly go along to get along. He liked fast cars, faster motorcycles, and fighting.”
That surprised Will.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Conover said. “Shelton was a good boy. Just had some waywardness in him. Came by it honest. Tyrel McHenry has always been known to throw a saddle across a wild bronc, and he never walked away from a fight. But I suppose the Marine Corps gentled Shelton down some. I heard from his brother, Don, that Shelton’s doing good for himself.”
“He is,” Will replied. “Shel’s one of the finest men I know.”
“Well then, what can I do for you, Commander?” Conover asked.
“We’ve had some trouble here,” Will said. “There’s a biker gang called the Purple Royals.”
“I’ve heard of ’em,” Conover said. “Bunch of outlaws and one percenters.”
“That’s right. They’re led by a man named Victor Gant. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Nope. Should it?”
Will hesitated, then decided he had no choice about proceeding if he wanted to help Shel and his family. “I think there’s some history between Victor Gant and Tyrel McHenry.”
“Well, I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, Commander, and I wouldn’t be one to tell you your business, but I got to tell you that I don’t see how that could be. Tyrel McHenry won’t ever win no awards for being the friendliest man in these parts, but he’s one of the most law-abiding I know of. He wouldn’t have nothing to do with the likes of the Purple Royals.”
Will leaned back in his chair. “Shel’s coming home for some leave.”
“Don’t see what you need me to do, Commander. If you need something, you’re gonna have to just up and ask.”
“Victor Gant had a son who was guilty of attacking a Marine,” Will said. “Shel went to arrest him. The bust went south, and Shel ended up killing the son. Shel nearly got killed doing it.”
“I take it Victor Gant ain’t the forgiving type.”
“No. He and his men made an attempt on Shel today. Shel and another one of my agents left three of the bikers dead.”
“None of them was Victor Gant?”
“No.”
“That there’s a shame. Probably would have saved you some trouble.”
“I think so too,” Will agreed. “Now here’s the interesting part. When we investigated Victor Gant’s background, we found out he was in Vietnam at the same time Tyrel McHenry was.”
“They knew each other back then?”
“We don’t know that for sure. But we’re confident Gant has made the tie to Shel’s father.”
“And you’re thinking Gant and his boys might take a run at Tyrel McHenry?”
“I have to wonder why Shel decided to take leave suddenly and go back home.”
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Conover said, “and I’ll guarantee it. If Gant decides to take on Tyrel McHenry, you might not have any more worries. In this county, there ain’t many that come any tougher than Tyrel McHenry. That man’s harder than a pawnbroker’s heart and rougher than tree bark.”
Will smiled at that. “I guess Shel didn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Maybe not in some ways,” Conover agreed. “But Shelton—for all them daredevil ways of his—has got a good heart. And Don? Why he’s the salt of the earth. Good people. Tyrel McHenry’s a horse of another color.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something soured inside that man,” Conover said. “That’s the best I can explain it. He’s hard and distant. Never got too close to his family. I think that’s one of the reasons Shel was such a challenge to the straight and narrow. He was just trying to earn his daddy’s respect. Or maybe get his attention.”
Will remembered the gentle face of the young Army private that Tyrel McHenry had been.
“Some think it was the Vietnam War that changed Tyrel McHenry,” Conover said. “Ever since he came back from there, folks who knew him said he’d changed. When he was younger, he was something of an outgoing man. A lot like Shel, I’ve been told. And he cared about people. Went out of his way to help them and get to know them a little. While his wife was alive, he was more sociable. You couldn’t exactly warm up to him, but at least he was around. Nowadays, he’s pretty much a hermit. Don’t nobody go out to the Rafter M that don’t have business there.”
“How isolated is the ranch?” Will asked.
“Sets off to itself, that’s a fact,” Conover said. “And Tyrel runs it pretty much by himself.”
That didn’t sound good.
“If Victor Gant does come gunning for Tyrel, that could be a problem.” Conover paused. “Tell you what I can do. I’ll have a couple of my deputies take regular runs out that way. Maybe keep an eye on things. If something comes up, what’s the best way to get hold of you?”
Will gave the man his cell phone number.
“Very good, Commander. Though I hope I don’t have to use this,” Conover said.
“Me too,” Will said.
39
>> Rafter M Ranch
>> Outside Fort Davis, Texas
>> 1646 Hours (Central Time Zone)
Even at a distance, Shel could pick out the Rafter M property lines.
There was something about the land that tied a man to it. No matter how determined a man was, he couldn’t fully escape the area where he grew up. Men Shel had met in the service who’d grown up in metropolitan areas were often marked by those environments as well. Even before Shel had joined the NCIS, he’d learned that if a man knew what to look for, he could tell a lot about where another person grew up just by watching.
He stopped the rental car a quarter mile from the turnoff to the narrow rutted road that led up to the ranch house where he’d grown up. He told himself that he was just getting out to stretch from the long drive and from all the hours spent in airplanes and airports. Given that he’d made the trip so suddenly, he hadn’t been able to secure a straight shot home. He’d also had two long layovers waiting on standby for last-minute flights.
He wore jeans, a pair of his favorite cowboy boots that were worked in and comfortable, a Texas Rangers ball cap he’d bought to knock the sun off, a brown USMC T-shirt, his pistol on his hip, and sunglasses. He’d shaved in the airport bathroom to keep himself clean-looking but also just for something to do.
Max got out of the car and put his nose to the ground. It didn’t take the dog long to find a jackrabbit lazing in the shade and avoiding the blistering heat. Max slowly closed on the rabbit, and it waited until the last minute to make its break. The rabbit exploded from the ground, kicked out at Max with its powerful back legs, and zipped across the countryside in a broken field sprint. Max tried to follow, but he had too much mass and kept overrunning his target.
In spite of the tension he felt, Shel grinned at the sight. There weren’t many things that could catch a Texas jackrabbit.
Less than a minute later, the rabbit came to a stop atop a hill in the shade of a thicket of Indian paintbrush. The bright red blossoms stood out against the dry brush. The plant was also called prairie fire, but Shel had always known it as Indian paintbrush. His mama had loved it.
For a moment
he got caught up in his emotions. Losing his mama had been hard. But it hadn’t been hard just on him. Don and their daddy had suffered as well. Their daddy had never talked about it though. Shel had sometimes wondered if his father had just accepted his mama’s death as something to be expected.
Tyrel McHenry had never been a man to expect much out of life. Or at least he’d never given the appearance of being one.
Shel looked up at the bright blue sky. The cap’s bill shaded his eyes.
Did you know Daddy was a murderer, Mama? Shel asked. Did he tell you? Or did he keep that secret from you too?
He knew there was no way of knowing. His mama had kept secrets when there was a need. She’d kept a few of Shel’s. At the time he’d been grateful. She’d had to come get him out of jail once, and she’d paid a handful of speeding tickets for Shel without ever telling her husband. Things had been hard enough at home with Tyrel McHenry keeping the distance from his boys. Having those scrapes with the law would have only fanned the fire.
But even as he asked that question and got no answer, Shel understood that he didn’t know whether his daddy was a murderer. He just had Victor Gant’s voice in his head saying that. Over and over again. Those words had haunted Shel since he’d left Camp Lejeune.
How could you be raised by a man and never know enough about him? Shel wondered. In the end, though, he suspected that’s the way it always was between daddies and sons. Probably between mamas and daughters, too. Sons and daughters just assumed they knew everything, and parents didn’t reveal everything in their lives because they didn’t want to be vulnerable in the eyes of their children.
Max sidled up the hill like he was just wandering around, then made another run at the rabbit.
As trained as he was, the Labrador couldn’t give up being a dog.
Shel figured that no matter how much Marine he was, he couldn’t give up being his daddy’s son either.
After a few more minutes, he knew he couldn’t put off getting there any longer.
He called Max to him and clambered back into the SUV. Then he started the engine, put the transmission in gear, and headed back home.