Blood Lines

37

›› Mooney’s Tavern

›› Jacksonville, North Carolina

›› 1432 Hours

Shel exploded as the biker leader’s words slammed into him. “You’re a lying sack of-”

“Your father has a lot of secrets, jarhead,” Victor interrupted. He spoke slowly, calmly, mockingly. “I helped him bury the soldier he killed that night in Qui Nhon. And when we finished covering him over, your father prayed over that dead man and gave up on God in his next breath.”

Fear and anger throttled Shel. He tried to speak and couldn’t. His throat felt like it had swelled nearly shut. He forced himself to breathe, and even that was difficult.

“When you see your father again, maybe you ought to ask him about that,” Victor suggested. “Remind him that there ain’t no statute of limitations for murder. And that the Army still hangs war criminals.”

Get me a twenty, Shel thought desperately, looking again at Remy. He knew Estrella would be the one running the phone search. Find this jerk for me.

Remy shook his head.

“I’ll tell you something else,” Victor said, “if you people find me again, I’m going to tell everything I know to the newspapers. Maybe catch one of those guys at 60 Minutes or something. They like stories that have a history. Maybe you’ll get to see your father swing from a gallows.”

Cold anger replaced the heat inside Shel. When he spoke, his words were calm and measured. “You’ll never live to see that happen.”

Victor laughed. “Touched a nerve, did I? What is it, jarhead? You got some kind of hero worship about your old man? When I saw you, I figured you for the type. I hate to be the one to bring it up, but he didn’t come see you in the hospital, did he? Just stayed down there at that ranch in Texas. Is he too old to travel these days?”

Shel didn’t say anything.

“I’ll be seeing you, jarhead,” Victor said. “I ain’t gonna forget about this little dance we got going on between us. I ain’t the forgetting kind. I’m just gonna put it on a back burner for a while. Catch you on the flip-flop.”

Before Shel could say anything, the phone connection ended. He turned to Remy. “Tell me Estrella found him.”

Remy talked for a moment, then shook his head. “He was moving too fast. She got a general location. Jacksonville PD’s already covering it.”

“Where?”

Remy hesitated.

“Where?” Shel demanded. He didn’t know what he’d do if he caught up with Victor Gant. He knew he wasn’t truly in control of himself. But he couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

“South side,” Remy said. “When she lost the signal, Estrella said Gant was rolling south.”

Shel closed his phone and started for his Jeep.

“Shel,” Remy called.

Shel ignored him. Anger pooled inside him like bubbling lava.

“The PD’s not going to let you leave,” Remy said. “They want us to stay here.”

Shel stepped into the Jeep and slid behind the steering wheel. Max vaulted through the passenger window and settled into the seat. The Labrador was alert and pensive.

“You’re making a mistake,” Remy said.

Without answering, Shel put the Jeep in gear and backed out into the parking lot. He threaded through the wrecked motorcycles and bodies toward the street exit. One of the policemen started for him.

“Sir,” the officer said as he held up a hand and kept the other on his gun butt, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay with the scene.”

Shel ignored the man and rolled on by. He knew the policemen weren’t going to fire on him. They might not like the fact that he had disobeyed them, but they weren’t going to shoot him.

One of the police cars pulled out of the parking lot and followed Shel with his lights on.

Shel didn’t care. Victor Gant was headed south, so south was where Shel was going to head. He just hoped he found the man, but he didn’t know what he was going to do with him when he caught up with him.

Shel was so focused on the idea of finding Victor Gant that he didn’t see the police car swing out in front of him until it was almost too late. He jammed on the brakes and managed to bring the Jeep to a stop moments before it would have slammed into the squad car. Before he even had a chance to put the Jeep in reverse, the cop was out of the car, gun drawn.

“Stand down, Gunnery Sergeant,” the cop yelled. “I am placing you under arrest.”

Fuming, Shel realized he had no choice. He put the vehicle in park and resigned himself to the fact that Victor Gant was most likely going to escape-again.

›› NCIS Offices

›› Camp Lejeune, north carolina

›› 1843 Hours

When Will entered his office, he found Shel waiting for him.

The big Marine stood impassively at the window and stared out at the camp. His sunglasses covered his eyes. Max lay at his feet. After being remanded to NCIS custody by the Jacksonville PD, Shel had returned to camp. He now wore Marine cammies, complete with the uniform hat. Evidently he’d taken time to shower, shave, and get his kit together. A duffel bag sat beside one of the chairs in front of Will’s desk.

Like an automaton, Shel spun expertly and saluted Will. He held the salute until Will returned it.

“At ease,” Will said.

Effortlessly Shel relaxed into parade rest.

Will pointed at the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a load off.”

“Thank you, sir,” Shel said. “But I’d prefer to stand.”

“I’d like to sit,” Will said, feeling a little irritable, “and I’d like not to have to twist my head off to look at you.”

Shel moved to the front of the desk and stood silently.

“That’s not a whole lot better,” Will said.

“I was thinking we could make this a short conversation,” Shel said.

Will studied Shel. They’d been friends through their work at the NCIS for years. Will had trained Shel in a lot of the crime scene investigation techniques. Shel had helped Will work on his fighting skills and pistol marksmanship, neither of which was imperative aboard an aircraft carrier.

“You left a crime scene today.” Will flipped open a yellow legal pad to the notes he’d taken earlier.

“Yes, sir. I was in pursuit of the men from that scene.”

“The pursuit was already in hand. We’d coordinated that aspect of the operation through the Jacksonville PD.”

“I understand that, sir. Remy had control of the crime scene. Only one of us was needed.”

“In your opinion, Gunnery Sergeant,” Will said, responding to the military slant Shel was insisting on keeping. “I gave orders for you to stay there.”

“I disobeyed those orders,” Shel said. “I’d appreciate leniency.”

“Do you want to tell me why you left?”

“I didn’t want Victor Gant to get away.”

“One man wasn’t going to make a difference,” Will said.

“Sir, I am a Marine. As a Marine, I’m trained to believe that one man can make a difference. I’m trained to be that man.”

Will leaned back and studied Shel. Max whined a little, obviously distressed over his partner’s emotional state.

And what is that emotional state? Will wasn’t sure. Over the years of their association, he’d seen Shel under all kinds of stress. But he’d never seen the man as he was now.

“I don’t want to argue the validity of Marine training-,” Will began.

“Thank you, sir,” Shel interrupted.

“-but I’m also going to have to finesse this with the Jacksonville PD,” Will went on. “They’re not very happy with you.”

“The feeling is mutual, sir,” Shel said. “They were already mobilized. Catching Victor Gant and his people should have been simple.”

It hadn’t been, though. Victor Gant and his surviving team members had dumped their motorcycles in an alley and fled the city with some other transportation. Even the 18-wheeler they’d used to arrive at the scene had been recovered. The tractor-trailer had been stolen. The long-haul driver had been found dead on the highway nearly an hour from Jacksonville.

“Do you want to tell me about this, gunney?” Will asked.

“About what, sir?”

Will’s irritation deepened. “How Victor Gant got up inside your head.”

“No, sir.”

Will hadn’t been expecting that response. He hadn’t expected a direct answer either. Now that he’d asked the question so directly and gotten such a direct reply, he didn’t know how he was going to move forward.

“What did Gant tell you while you were talking to him?” Will asked.

“He threatened me, sir,” Shel said.

Will thought about that. He’d been through hard and dangerous times with Shel. A threat wasn’t going to ruffle the Marine’s feathers.

“Threatened you?” Will repeated.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not convinced that’s the reason you left that crime scene.”

“I wasn’t aware I had to convince you in any way regarding my actions, sir.”

“I would like an explanation.”

“I wanted to apprehend Victor Gant, sir. I thought one more car in the search might help. I judged that a better use of my time.”

“Than staying behind to secure the crime scene.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Victor Gant got away.”

“I’m aware of that, sir. I did what I could do.”

Will sighed. “I’m not blaming his escape on you.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“I don’t believe Victor Gant threatening you would be enough to make you disobey an order.”

Shel looked troubled for just a moment. “I don’t know how to get you to believe in my disobedience, sir.”

Frustration chafed at Will. Shel had closed down on him-lock, stock, and barrel-and Will didn’t know why.

“About my punishment, sir,” Shel said.

“I didn’t say there was going to be punishment,” Will replied.

Shel nodded. “I just figured-”

“You figured wrong, gunney,” Will said sharply. “Maybe you need to realize that you’re not the only one who can throw away the playbook when it doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Will let out a pent-up breath. “The issue at hand is what to do with you.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Thank God, Will thought. “Yes.”

“In addition to myself, Victor Gant also threatened my family. I’ve got some leave coming-”

That was an understatement. Shel was a Marine 24-7. There wasn’t a person on the NCIS team who logged more hours or had more leave coming.

“-and I’d like to use some of it,” Shel went on. “I want to go back home. For a little while.”

“We need you here,” Will said.

Shel was silent for a moment. “I understand, sir. But I think maybe I was too hasty in coming back to full duty. Today, during that fracas, I hurt my shoulder. I think maybe I should rest it.”

“I can put you on a desk for that,” Will pointed out.

“There are plenty of desk jockeys,” Shel replied. “So there shouldn’t be any reason to stand in the way of my request for leave. Sir.”

Will knew he’d been neatly outmaneuvered. He didn’t feel like being civil about it. Nor did he want to let Shel go when he was obviously dealing with harsh circumstances.

The fact of the matter was, though, Will didn’t have a viable reason to deny the request.

“You’ll need to fill out leave papers,” Will said.

Shel reached into a pocket and took out a folded mass of papers. He handed them over.

Will took them and dropped them onto the desk without looking at them.

“Shel,” he said, “I’m your friend.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve always thought of you that way.”

“As your friend, I’m asking you what’s going on.”

For a moment, uncertainty wavered on Shel’s face. “I appreciate that, sir. I do. But I don’t have anything to say that I haven’t already told you.”

Will looked at the dark lenses of Shel’s sunglasses. No answers lurked there. And in the end there was nothing else he could do.

“You’re dismissed, gunney,” Will said.

“Thank you, sir.” Shel fired off a crisp salute. After Will returned it, Shel pivoted a perfect 180 degrees and left the room.

Godspeed, Will thought. Then he offered up a small prayer and asked God to watch over his friend while he was gone. Letting people go when they were determined to walk into the jaws of trouble was always one of the hardest things to do.