Blood Lines (ncis)

by Mel Odom

  “You have the right to remain silent,” Shel said, gripping Victor by his long greasy hair and yanking his head up. “Anything you say-”

  “I don’t think he’s going to say much,” Will said.

  Shel glanced over his shoulder and saw the commander standing there.

  “He looks pretty unconscious to me,” Will said.

  Breathing hard, black spots whirling in his vision and his body hurting from various bruises, scrapes, and burns, Shel looked at Victor Gant.

  The man was dead to the world.

  “We’ll read him his rights later,” Will suggested. “When he comes to.”

  “Good idea,” Shel agreed. He let his prisoner’s head drop.

  “There’s something else I need to tell you. While you and Remy have been out here shooting down helicopters and arresting unconscious criminals, Nita found something very interesting about our friend Hinton. Something you’re definitely going to want to see.”

  Before Shel could ask what Will was talking about, a frightened voice called from behind a tree, “Hey! Somebody want to get this dog off of me?”

  When he stood and walked to the brush, Shel saw that Max had Victor Gant’s henchman by the throat and lying on his back. Shel picked up the M60 lying nearby and pointed it at the big man. He signed Max off.

  Fat Mike Wiley stared up at Shel with frightened eyes. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

  “He could have,” Shel replied. “You make any wrong moves, I’m going to let him.”

  “Not me,” the big man said. He rolled onto his face and put his hands on top of his head. “You won’t have any trouble out of me.”

  Shel quickly put cuffs on the man and got him to his feet. Will kept him covered.

  When he looked back over the battlefield, Shel saw that Captain Phan’s soldiers held the high ground. Maybe some of Victor Gant’s people had escaped, but they weren’t going to be doing much.

  Shel looked at Will and grinned. “We won.”

  “Yeah,” Will said, smiling a little. “I guess we did. You sound surprised.”

  “Me?” Shel pulled a shocked look. “I never had a doubt in my mind.”

  ›› Recovery Room

  ›› Las Palmas Medical Center

  ›› El Paso, Texas

  ›› 1017 Hours (Central Time Zone)

  Shel stood at the window of his daddy’s room and stared out at the clear blue Texas sky that he’d grown up under. A red-tailed hawk circled the sky and made him think of the ranch and the Indian paintbrush in bloom, looking like the scrub grass was on fire. He’d seen it this morning when he’d stopped by to check on the livestock.

  Then, in the reflection, he saw his daddy turn over in bed and wake up. His daddy’s eyes stared at his back. He looked older and more fragile in the hospital gown, but there still remained that fierceness that Shel had always remembered about the man.

  If he hadn’t been through what he’d been through, would he still have that? Shel wondered. It was a worthless question, though. It was part of his daddy’s nature. That was like asking if there’d be dust in west Texas.

  “You got all the time in the world to be staring through the window like that?” his daddy asked.

  Shel smiled. “Yes, sir. I reckon I do. Otherwise I’d be sitting back watching you sleep.” He turned to face his daddy.

  Max stuck his head up in the corner, looked at both of them, then curled up again.

  “How’d you get Max in here?” his daddy asked.

  “I made friends with one of the nurses.”

  “I’m glad my ailing has worked out for you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But you got no call to be coming around, Shelton. We’re done here. We were done before you up and left a few days ago. Got nothing more to say to you.”

  “No, sir. I reckon you don’t. So I’m gonna tell you a few things.”

  “I don’t want to hear them.” Tyrel reached for the remote control on the table between them. He turned the television on.

  Shel reached down and pulled the plug from the wall. The television went off.

  “Don’t think that just because I’m in this bed and outfitted with a pacemaker that I’m feeling too poorly to get up and give you some of what I give you in that barn,” his daddy threatened.

  “No, sir. I wouldn’t think that. But if you get up out of that bed, I’m gonna call that pretty little nurse friend of mine, and she’ll have a couple of orderlies strap you to that bed till I finish saying what I’ve come to say.”

  “You’re just wasting your breath. What I done, I done. Spent over forty years dreading what’s coming, and that’s over forty years too long in my book.”

  Shel leaned back against the wall. “You ever talk to God, Daddy?”

  Tyrel waved a big hand at him and ignored him.

  “I mean, really talk to God?” Shel persisted.

  “Your brother talks to him enough for all of us.”

  “I can see how you’d think that. But it’s not true.”

  “Say what you got to say, then be on your way. Surely they got a baseball game on somewhere.”

  “You know,” Shel said, “I’ve spent all of my life trying to understand you.”

  Tyrel was silent for a moment; then he said, “There ain’t as much to understand as you might think there is.”

  “No, sir. I have to admit that most of it’s pretty simple. Most of it’s what I figured it was. Those parts that I liked and understood, I measured them out and kept them for my own. You see, Daddy, if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.”

  Tyrel looked at him and tears glimmered in his eyes. His face quivered a bit but he smoothed it out.

  “Got no time for this,” his daddy objected in a strained voice. “Nor no reason to listen to it.”

  “What I am,” Shel went on, “what I made myself become, was something I thought was better than you would ever be. But that’s not true. I know that now. Don, he got the best parts of you right off. I only thought I had them.”

  Tyrel tried to speak and couldn’t.

  “You see,” Shel said, “I saw you as this loner cowboy. John Wayne. Audie Murphy. This fierce, hard, proud man that wouldn’t take nothing from nobody. I wanted to be just like that.”

  “You’re a better man,” his daddy whispered. “You always was.”

  “No, sir, but I’m working on it. Don understood what you were better than anybody. He took what he saw and he became one of the best husbands and one of the best daddies in the world. He became a leader in the church and works at saving more people than you or I ever will.”

  Tyrel couldn’t speak.

  “Don got that from you,” Shel said. “I understand that now. He saw you raise us when other men didn’t stay with their families. He saw how you were with Mama. He became just like that-never failing, never swerving, never a moment lost when he needed to be a daddy or a husband.”

  “That wasn’t me,” Tyrel said.

  “It was.” Shel’s emotions were thick in his words, and his voice almost broke. “It was, but we just didn’t see it, you and me.” He paused. “I just got back from Vietnam, Daddy. I walked some of those battlefields where you fought, and I found a part of you I never saw before. I tried to imagine what it was like to be eighteen years old, handed a weapon, and sent out in the jungle to kill men I didn’t even understand before they could kill me.”

  “Hard times,” Tyrel said. “Those were hard times.”

  “Yes, sir. They were. I could see how a kid could make the mistake of shooting a friend in the dark. Especially when he was drunk and with men who were known for violence.”

  Tears ran down Tyrel’s weathered face. “I killed him, Shelton. I killed that poor boy that night, then helped bury him so his parents never knew what happened to him.”

  “I know you think you did, Daddy,” Shel said, “but that’s not what happened.” He pulled a packet from the chair beside the bed and handed ov
er eight-by-ten photographs. “This here’s what remains of PFC Dennis Hinton. We found him and identified him.”

  “I don’t want to see them.” Tyrel held up a shaking hand.

  “Fine. Then I’ll tell you what Nita found when she examined that body.” Shel put the photographs away. “She found slash marks along the underside of his jaw that were made with a sawtooth blade. The kind of combat knife Victor Gant carried back in those days. A lot of guys carried those survival knives.”

  Tyrel stared at Shel.

  “Yeah,” Shel said, “that’s what we were wondering too. Why would anyone cut the throat of a dead man?”

  “Denny’s face and chest were covered with blood,” Tyrel whispered.

  “You shot him, Daddy,” Shel said. “But he was already dead at the time. You were drunk and doing something stupid, and I guess if you want to feel guilty about something, you can feel guilty about that. But you didn’t kill anyone that night.”

  Tyrel just stared at his son.

  “After we found out PFC Hinton’s throat had been slashed, we talked with Fat Mike Wiley, Victor Gant’s second-in-command.” He smiled a little. “While we were over in Vietnam, we went ahead and arrested both of them.”

  Tyrel finally found his voice. “Guess you were busy.”

  “Yes, sir. Wiley wanted to cut a deal. He’s gonna testify against Victor Gant and a man named Tran, give up their whole heroin operation, in exchange for life imprisonment. It wasn’t a bad deal, because either the Vietnamese or the American military was going to execute him for murder one.”

  Tyrel lay still and quiet.

  “He told us that Victor Gant knew PFC Hinton was working undercover as an informer for the Army CID. They were trying to nail Gant for his black market dealings.”

  “Denny was working with the CID?”

  Shel nodded. “Gant found out. You were Hinton’s friend. That night in the bar, Gant used you to get to Hinton. He took both of you out into the jungle. Then he killed Hinton and set you up to make you think that you did it. When you shot Hinton, he was already dead. You didn’t kill him, Daddy. You been paying for a crime you didn’t commit.”

  Tyrel closed his eyes. “My God,” he whispered. “All those years.” He looked back at Shel, and his face knotted as he tried to remain calm and collected. “All those years, I lived just knowing the Army was going to come get me at any time. I’ve been scared for forty years. I was afraid of letting your mama or you or Don get too close to me. I thought they’d come get me; then what would you do?”

  “I know,” Shel said. “It took me a while to figure it all out. But I did. You did the best that you could.”

  Tyrel shook his head. “No. I was never the daddy to you boys that my daddy was to me. You didn’t get to know him, Shel. He died before you were born. But he was a good man. Not like me. He knew how to be a daddy. I–I just-”

  A fresh lump formed in the back of Shel’s throat, and he barely choked it down. “Daddy, you did what you could. And you did every part of it you knew how. In your own way, you were trying to protect us.”

  Tyrel’s face writhed as he struggled to speak. “I remember how it was when my daddy died, Shel. I was seventeen. He died in a car wreck when a drunk in a truck hit his tractor. He was just… gone. I couldn’t stand for you boys to have to go through that. I didn’t want either you or Don to feel the way I felt. It was awful and hurt something fierce. I didn’t think I was ever going to get over it. Maybe I never did. I didn’t want that for you two.”

  “Daddy, someday we’re all gonna have to let each other go. At least for a little while. It’s just how things are. But there’s something past this life. I’ve always known that. Don didn’t have to tell me that.” Shel stared at his daddy. “But we can take the time we have here and use it the best way we know how. That’s all we can do.”

  Tyrel shook his head. “Look at me. I’m old. I’m used up. My heart don’t even work the way it used to. There ain’t much left.”

  “There’s enough,” Shel said. “There’s enough if you want there to be. In this case, I feel certain God’s gonna make sure of that.”

  Quietly, hesitantly, Tyrel sat up in bed. Then he pushed himself off it and walked over to Shel. “You’re telling me,” he whispered hoarsely, “that I’m free. I don’t have to look over my shoulder, and I don’t have to feel guilty no more.”

  “No, sir. Not one more second.”

  “I want you to know that I love you, Shel. I always have. I just couldn’t-”

  “I know, Daddy. I know.”

  Carefully Tyrel McHenry reached for his son; then he pulled him into a fierce embrace that almost squeezed the breath from Shel’s lungs.

  For the first time in his life since he was eight years old, Shelton McHenry put his arms around his daddy and held him tight. His daddy smelled of soap and shaving cream, of old saddles and hay, and he was built rawhide tough from hard ways and mean ways and from working from sunup to sundown.

  In that moment, Shel felt certain he knew what God’s love was like. It was wild and powerful, complete and enduring, just like his daddy’s love had always been though he hadn’t known it.

  “I love you too, Daddy,” Shel whispered. “I love you too.”

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