Blood Lines (28 page)

“I wouldn't . . . want nothing to happen to you, boy.” Tyrel's voice cracked at the end.

Before he knew it, and without even understanding why, Shel had a lump in his throat. It wasn't just his father's admission that he cared about him, which wasn't something Tyrel McHenry had ever owned up to; it was the fact that his daddy was anywhere near to losing control.

The only time Shel had ever seen his daddy hurting had been at his mama's funeral. Even when Shel's mama had died in the hospital and they'd all been sitting in that hospital room listening to her gasp for her last feeble breaths, Tyrel McHenry had never shown weakness.

When she'd gone on, when the heart monitor had flatlined and the constant chirp filled the room, they'd watched as the nurses had disconnected everything. Then Tyrel had stood in those straight-legged jeans he always wore, taken his cowboy hat off, and walked over to his dead wife. He looked at her for a time, then bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead.

“Sleep easy, ol' gal. I got my hand on the wheel. I'll get your young'uns raised up right,” he'd whispered.

Then he clamped his cowboy hat on and turned to Don and Shel with his face like stone.

“You boys tell your mama good-bye. I'll be outside waiting when you're ready.” And he'd walked out.

That day, Shel had hated his father. It had been everything Don could do to keep him from forcing a confrontation right there in the hospital parking lot.

Then, days later at the funeral, Tyrel had stood at the back of the family area in the funeral home and listened to the preacher's words. Tears streaming down his own face, Shel had turned to watch his daddy. Only one time, and only briefly, Tyrel had sipped at a breath and hiccuped. His face had knotted up in agony. Then he'd forced it back to that harsh mask he'd always worn.

That was what Shel heard now, and it left him shattered and scared in ways he'd never felt even when he'd been under fire on the battlefield.

“I'm fine, Daddy.” Shel was surprised by how tight his voice was. “I'm just fine.”

“Well, you stay that way, boy. I won't put up with anything less.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The reason I was calling is this.”

Shel waited.

“That boy you shot—”

Shel wanted to point out that Bobby Lee had been a full-grown man, but he didn't.

“—had a daddy,” Tyrel continued.

Through the haze that swirled inside his head and muddied his thoughts, Shel tried to get a sense of what his father was trying to tell him. He felt like he was going to have to defend himself for shooting Bobby Lee.

Instead, Tyrel said, “I knew that boy's daddy. He's a vicious man, Shelton. He's one of the devil's own. You're going to need to watch your six for a while. And if there's a way you can punch Victor Gant's ticket for him, you might just be better off for the doing of it.”

Shel barely breathed. He couldn't believe what his daddy was telling him.

“You hear me, boy?” Tyrel growled.

“Yes, Daddy,” Shel whispered.

“You watch yourself for the next little while. And you take care of Don, too. He ain't like you and me. He looks more for the gentle side of things. He ain't gonna know how to look for somebody like Victor Gant. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It'd be better if you sent him on outta there and got him outta the line of fire,” Tyrel said. “And tell them friends of yours to watch out for themselves too. If Victor Gant can't get at you, he'll take what he can.”

Shel listened to the thud of his heart banging inside his chest.
How does my daddy know someone like Victor Gant?
Shel couldn't think clearly enough at the moment to reason that out.

“Well,” Tyrel said, “I reckon that's all I got to say. Now that I said it, I'm gonna go to bed. If you had any sense, you'd do the same instead of lying awake at all hours of the night.”

“Yes, sir,” Shel said, but even before he got the words out of his mouth, Tyrel had hung up. Shel took the phone from his face and gazed at perplexedly.

“Shel,” Don said softly.

“Yeah.”

“What did Daddy want?”

“To tell me to watch my six,” Shel said numbly.

“Your six?”

Shel tossed Don the phone. “My rear flank. He told me to look out for trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“From Victor Gant.”

Don took a moment to reason that out and connect the dots. “The father of the young man you shot?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would Daddy call you to tell you that?”

“He said Victor Gant is one of the devil's own. He said Victor Gant would come after me for killing his boy.”

“I think Commander Coburn knows that,” Don said.

“Probably. Will's a smart man.”

Don looked puzzled for a moment. “How did Daddy know about Victor Gant?”

“He said he knew him.”

“Daddy?”

Shel nodded.

“How would Daddy know a man like that?”

“That is the question, isn't it?” Shel lay back on the pillow, but he knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep that night.

28

>> Sheraton Hotel

>> Charlotte, North Carolina

>> 0639 Hours

Will rolled over in bed and grabbed his iPAQ phone from the nightstand. “Coburn.”

“Aren't you up yet?”

It took Will a moment to recognize Police Chief Tarlton's voice. The man sounded entirely too awake and happy for it to be the time that showed on the PDA's viewscreen.

“No,” Will answered. He slitted his eyes against the weak sunlight hammering the eastern balcony windows. The drapes only blunted part of the brightness. “Is Shel—?”

“Everybody at the hospital is fine,” Tarlton said. “Besides your people, I okayed some of my guys for OT.”

“I appreciate that.”

“No problem. Since you're going to help me stir up my favorite hornet's nest and rile the FBI, it's the least I could do.”

Despite the lack of sleep, the worry, and the fatigue he felt, Will couldn't help but grin. “I'm going to do all that, am I?”

“Oh yeah. In fact, you're going to love the next little thing that dropped onto our plates during the night.”

Will waited.

“That's the part where you're supposed to ask me what happened,” Tarlton said. “Kind of a prompt.”

“I'm patient,” Will said.

“Guess what was broken into last night?”

“I don't have a clue.”

“The county medical examiner's office.”

Thoughts circled through Will's mind, and he didn't like how any of them were shaping up.

“Want to guess who broke in?” Tarlton said. “I'm discovering that you're lousy at prompts.”

“Victor Gant,” Will said.

“Yep.”

“But that doesn't make sense.”

“We're not exactly dealing with a logical person here,” Tarlton said. “You need to keep that in mind.”

“Was Gant caught on the premises?”

“No. That would have tidied up what we had planned for the day.”

“If you could have sold the judge on it.”

“I think I could have. But Gant breaking into the county medical examiner's office gives us a free move. So to speak.”

“The medical examiner's office is under county jurisdiction.”

“Yes.” The smile was evident in Tarlton's voice. “Guess who's going to be riding shotgun with us today?”

“The sheriff.”

“Yep. He's an old fishing buddy. After I got the particulars of this, we agreed that a joint effort by the city and county was required. We also decided that the NCIS could stand the heat too.”

Will smiled. “Because you know that busting Gant today is going to irritate Urlacher.”

“Nolan—that's the sheriff—and I figured you and yours could ride along. When it comes to matching up federal muscle, we thought maybe you could handle Urlacher and the FBI.”

“Because Bobby Lee Gant's body is property of the NCIS as evidence.”

“Exactly. How soon can you be down to Alice's Café?”

“I don't know where that is.” Will stood and started grabbing clothing from his duffel bag.

Tarlton gave him directions.

“Why are we meeting there?” Will asked.

“Because we don't want the bad guys to figure out what we're going to do,” Tarlton said. “And so Nolan and I can have a piece of pie while we're waiting on you. It'll take you ten minutes to get here.”

>> 0643 Hours

Will knocked on the adjoining room door and said his name, then used a key card to disengage the lock. Slowly he pushed the door open.

Remy was sitting up in bed with his pistol gripped in both hands. His eyes were red-rimmed with sleep. Max sat on the bed beside him. The Labrador's head was lifted, and his ears were pricked.

“Tarlton found a lever we can use to get over on Victor Gant,” Will announced. “We're rolling in five minutes. You'll need your riot gear. Meet me in the parking lot.”

Remy nodded and said, “I brought my gear with me. Never go anywhere without it.” He pushed out of bed like he'd had eight hours of sleep and walked over to a duffel on the desk.

SEALs,
Will thought in disgust as he went back to his own room. He figured he'd be lucky to beat Remy to the car.

>> 0647 Hours

By the time Will was ready, Remy was leaning against the bumper of the gray Taurus with his arms folded and looking totally alert. Max lay in a black pool of fur at his feet.

Will opened the trunk, and Remy threw in his riot gear duffel. They moved to the front of the car and climbed in. Max took the backseat, then hung his head between them.

“Didn't know you got Max last night.” Will started the car and let it idle for a moment.

“Swung by the hospital. Figured I'd get him out for a bit today. There's a park not far from here.”

“I'm surprised Max left.”

“Shel told him to.”

“I'm surprised the nurses let him go. From what I've heard, they're practically ready to adopt Max as the hospital mascot.” Will put the transmission in reverse and backed out.

Remy grinned as he adjusted his wraparound sunglasses. “This dog's got stealth ninja moves those nurses have never seen. I'd swear he's been SEAL-trained.”

“How's Shel?”

“Groggy. Sore. Ready to get out of the hospital.”

Will knew that would be true. He accelerated, halted at the parking lot's edge for a moment, then merged with traffic.

“Shel seemed a little distracted, though,” Remy said.

“Did he?”

“Yeah. His brother was there. Sleeping. Shel and I talked, but he didn't say what was on his mind.”

“He came close to getting killed,” Will said. “That usually brings me up short.”

“Maybe, but this is Shel. It didn't happen, so it doesn't matter.”

“True.” Will shot through traffic.