Blood Lines (57 page)

And what are you gonna do then, Shel?
he asked himself.
Watch the military kill your daddy? Or watch him wither away inside of some prison?

Neither of those options sounded good.

Someone slid into the pew next to him.

Shel glanced over and saw Don sitting there.

“I just came from the cardiac ICU,” Don said. “They told me Daddy's going to be all right.”

Shel nodded. Isabella had already come down and told him that less than ten minutes ago. He'd left word for Don on his cell phone. Don had been getting his wife and kids checked into a local hotel.

“They said you were with Daddy when he had his episode,” Don said.

“Yeah.”

Don hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice was harsh. “They said he was yelling at you.”

Shel nodded.

Anger showed in Don's eyes. “You want to tell me about that? Because if we almost lost Daddy just because you got into a fight with him and almost killed him that way, I really need to know what's in your head and your heart, Shel. And whether or not I want you to be around Daddy right now.”

“You're not going to like what I have to say, Don.”

“It can't make me feel any worse than I already do. But I don't want to lose my daddy and a brother all at the same time, so you'd better start talking.”

“Okay.” Shel took a deep breath and looked up. “But let's get out of here. Go somewhere we can talk.”

>> Cafeteria

>> Las Palmas Medical Center

>> El Paso, Texas

>> 1057 Hours (Central Time Zone)

It took Shel nearly an hour to tell all of it and finish up with the questions Don had. Around them, families sat at tables and carried on quiet conversations. They all had their own troubles, and Shel saw the weight of them stamped on the people. Just knowing there were that many problems nearby made him feel claustrophobic.

“What's wrong?” Don asked.

“Nothing.”

Don frowned at him. “I've known you my whole life, Shel. You'd say nothing was wrong if they cut both your arms off and set you on fire.”

Shel forced a grin. “Don't you think that example is a little extreme?”

“For anybody but you, yes. Talk to me.”

It took Shel a long moment to try to figure out the words he needed. He'd never been good at talking about himself.

“I joined the Marine Corps to get away from Daddy,” Shel said softly. “I couldn't do anything about him. Couldn't do anything about Mama dying like she did.”

“That wasn't your fault,” Don said.

“I know that. But I felt like there should have been something I could do. I just knew I felt bad staying at the ranch. Everything there reminded me of how helpless I was to fix things the way I wanted to.”

Don just remained silent. He'd always been good at listening.

“I joined the Marines because I liked the way they looked,” Shel said. “All those commercials made it sound like Marines were these incredible, unstoppable warriors who could take on anything and win.” He shook his head and grinned ruefully. “I was eighteen. What did I know?”

“You knew you wanted to help people. That's not a bad thing.”

Looking at his brother, Shel suddenly realized they weren't so very different these days. Maybe they really hadn't been when they'd grown up together. Seeing that gave him a whole new perspective.

“You joined the church to help people,” Shel said.

Don smiled. “Actually, I joined the church to date the preacher's daughter. That was the only way I could see Joanie back then. But God called out to me, and I answered. I think you were probably called too.”

“Not me. It was a Marine poster that did me in.”

“And the chance to get away from Daddy.”

“Yeah.” Shel sipped his tea. “The thing I learned was that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't save everybody.”

“That's not your burden, Shel. God works among people, and he gives them the means to save themselves.”

“That's where you and I are going to have to disagree. I've seen a lot of people that couldn't save themselves.”

“Like Daddy?” Don asked quietly.

For the first time, Shel realized what was bothering him most. After hearing the whole story, he knew his daddy needed help. Needed it in a bad way and had needed it for a long time.

“I can't help Daddy,” Shel said, but it was more for himself than for Don.

“Do you have to tell the military about this?”

“Do you want me to cover it up?”

Don sighed. “No. I suppose enough of that has been done already.”

“I think so too.”

“And even if we didn't tell them, Daddy would.”

“Too many people are going to wonder why Victor Gant went after Daddy,” Shel said. “Maybe they'll figure it's me. But Victor Gant could make that phone call at any time.”

“It would be hard for the military to prosecute Daddy without a body, wouldn't it?”

“Not if Daddy tells them he killed Hinton. Military courts are different than civilian courts. A soldier's word, unless it's proven a lie, is all the evidence you need if it's an admission of guilt.”

“How could they trust Daddy now? He lied back then.”

“Not to a military court,” Shel pointed out. “And why would he lie now?”

“I'm just saying there could be some confusion.”

Shel was quiet for a moment. “Let me ask you something, Don. Suppose we could somehow get Daddy to stand down on this—which, seeing as how we've never been able to convince him of much our whole lives, I don't see happening—and he isn't prosecuted. Where does that leave Daddy with God? Those books have still got to be balanced too.”

“God can forgive him,” Don said. “All Daddy has to do is ask God's forgiveness.”

“Maybe God's the forgiving type—”

“Don't you think for a minute that he isn't.”

“—but Daddy ain't. He hasn't given up on his guilt for forty years, and he won't for forty more.” Shel rubbed his stubbled jaw. “I've seen men like Daddy. Guilt rides them hard. Tears them apart from the inside. I don't know how he's lasted as long as he has.”

“Because of Mama and us,” Don said. “He knew we needed him.”

“Maybe. But Daddy ain't gonna turn to God. He don't figure he deserves it.”

“He might not at first. But if you give him enough time, especially now that the truth is out, he might be able to forgive himself.”

“Don,” Shel said patiently, “this is Daddy we're talking about. He ain't never cut nobody no slack. When he draws a line in the sand, right there is where it stays.”

Don laced his hands together behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “I know. You're right.” He was quiet for a time. “What are you going to do?”

“That's what I'm telling you. There's nothing I can do. It's all out of my hands.”

“Can you accept that?”

“It's not a matter of accepting it. That's just the way this is.”

Don eyed him. “Let me ask you a question.”

Shel nodded.

“Why were you in the chapel?”

“Don't go reading more into that than is there,” Shel warned. Don had always wanted to bring him in closer to the church—not necessarily
his
church, but any church Shel could attend.

“I'm not reading anything into it. I'm just asking.”

“The chapel was a quiet place to think.”

“Outside could have been a quiet place to think too.”

Shel knew that was true, and he didn't know why he hadn't gone outside.

“You needed comfort, Shel. If how I feel is any indication, I know this is bad for you. This . . . military stuff, that's more your world than mine. And I think you probably know more about what was in Daddy's mind the night he shot that man.”

Shel's voice got thick. “Daddy was twenty-one. He wasn't much more than a boy. He was away from home, surrounded by men who wanted to kill him, in the company of strangers who took death for granted, and was seduced by every vice you can imagine over there. Everything that he'd known or thought of himself had been left behind. On top of that, he was more scared than he'd ever been before in his life.”

Don just looked at him.

“Yeah,” Shel said, “I know what was going through Daddy's mind that night. It's gone through my mind too. Young soldiers make mistakes.”

“Do you think a military court will hold Daddy accountable for what happened over there that night?”

Shel let out a tense breath. “I don't know. This would be a close call, and there are a lot of people still sensitive over what happened in Vietnam. But the bottom line is that even if the military chose not to find any wrongdoing on Daddy's part, Daddy's still going to fault himself. Now that this is out, things could be even worse for Daddy. Have you thought about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that if the military court doesn't see fit to punish Daddy, Daddy may decide to punish himself.”

Don paled as he realized what Shel was talking about. “You're talking about hurting himself?”

Shel remained quiet.

“Daddy wouldn't do that,” Don said.

“Daddy lost Mama,” Shel said. “He doesn't have a good relationship with either one of us. Other than that ranch, what does he have that's going to keep him alive?”

“I don't want to believe that.”

“Believe what you gotta believe. But I've seen men that were cleared by military investigations who ended up taking their own lives because they allowed a fellow soldier to get killed or accidentally killed one themselves. The choices you're asked to make out in the field are life-and-death. They're not easy, and guilt comes awful quick and hard.”

“There is one thing you can do for Daddy,” Don said.

Shel looked away because he knew what was coming, and he really didn't want to hear it.

“You can pray for him,” Don said. “You can ask God to touch Daddy's heart and make him strong enough to live through this. No matter what happens.”

“That's not how I deal with things,” Shel said. “You're the believer. Not me.”

“Doesn't take much to be a believer, Shel. Just a little faith. About the size of a mustard seed.”

Shel wished he could believe that, but he'd never been able to find even that little amount of faith. Facing what he was facing now, with everything beyond his control, faith wasn't what he wanted to reach for—because he feared that would be even less effective than trying to find an answer himself.

56

>> La Quinta Inn

>> El Paso, Texas

>> 1337 Hours (Central Time Zone)

Will wore the Bluetooth headset for his cell phone to keep his hands free as he went through the paperwork involving the Army's investigation into PFC Dennis Hinton's disappearance. Something niggled at the back of his mind, not quite within his grasp, but never going away. Over the years with the NCIS he'd learned to pay attention to those details.

“So McGovern confirms the story that Tyrel McHenry shot Hinton?” Will asked.

“That he shot Hinton accidentally, yes,” Maggie answered.

“But he was drunk at the time.”

“That's correct.”

“Did you get the impression McGovern was telling you the truth?” Giving up for the moment on whatever it was he couldn't quite think of, Will got out of his chair and looked out the window.

The sun was bright and hard over the desolate countryside that began just beyond the motel parking lot. Mirages created by the heat shimmered over the twisted trees and scrub brush that dotted the landscape.

“I believed him,” Maggie said. “Remy and I leaned on him pretty hard. We left him with the impression that we could take his medical check away if he was involved in any of this more than he said he was or if he was lying about it now.”