“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.”
