“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.”
“Well, I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, Commander, and I wouldn’t be one to tell you your business, but I got to tell you that I don’t see how that could be. Tyrel McHenry won’t ever win no awards for being the friendliest man in these parts, but he’s one of the most law-abiding I know of. He wouldn’t have nothing to do with the likes of the Purple Royals.”
Will leaned back in his chair. “Shel’s coming home for some leave.”
“Don’t see what you need me to do, Commander. If you need something, you’re gonna have to just up and ask.”
“Victor Gant had a son who was guilty of attacking a Marine,” Will said. “Shel went to arrest him. The bust went south, and Shel ended up killing the son. Shel nearly got killed doing it.”
“I take it Victor Gant ain’t the forgiving type.”
“No. He and his men made an attempt on Shel today. Shel and another one of my agents left three of the bikers dead.”
“None of them was Victor Gant?”
“No.”
“That there’s a shame. Probably would have saved you some trouble.”
“I think so too,” Will agreed. “Now here’s the interesting part. When we investigated Victor Gant’s background, we found out he was in Vietnam at the same time Tyrel McHenry was.”
“They knew each other back then?”
“We don’t know that for sure. But we’re confident Gant has made the tie to Shel’s father.”
“And you’re thinking Gant and his boys might take a run at Tyrel McHenry?”
“I have to wonder why Shel decided to take leave suddenly and go back home.”
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Conover said, “and I’ll guarantee it. If Gant decides to take on Tyrel McHenry, you might not have any more worries. In this county, there ain’t many that come any tougher than Tyrel McHenry. That man’s harder than a pawnbroker’s heart and rougher than tree bark.”
Will smiled at that. “I guess Shel didn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Maybe not in some ways,” Conover agreed. “But Shelton-for all them daredevil ways of his-has got a good heart. And Don? Why he’s the salt of the earth. Good people. Tyrel McHenry’s a horse of another color.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something soured inside that man,” Conover said. “That’s the best I can explain it. He’s hard and distant. Never got too close to his family. I think that’s one of the reasons Shel was such a challenge to the straight and narrow. He was just trying to earn his daddy’s respect. Or maybe get his attention.”
Will remembered the gentle face of the young Army private that Tyrel McHenry had been.
“Some think it was the Vietnam War that changed Tyrel McHenry,” Conover said. “Ever since he came back from there, folks who knew him said he’d changed. When he was younger, he was something of an outgoing man. A lot like Shel, I’ve been told. And he cared about people. Went out of his way to help them and get to know them a little. While his wife was alive, he was more sociable. You couldn’t exactly warm up to him, but at least he was around. Nowadays, he’s pretty much a hermit. Don’t nobody go out to the Rafter M that don’t have business there.”
“How isolated is the ranch?” Will asked.
“Sets off to itself, that’s a fact,” Conover said. “And Tyrel runs it pretty much by himself.”
That didn’t sound good.
“If Victor Gant does come gunning for Tyrel, that could be a problem.” Conover paused. “Tell you what I can do. I’ll have a couple of my deputies take regular runs out that way. Maybe keep an eye on things. If something comes up, what’s the best way to get hold of you?”
Will gave the man his cell phone number.
“Very good, Commander. Though I hope I don’t have to use this,” Conover said.
“Me too,” Will said.
39
›› Rafter M Ranch
›› Outside Fort Davis, Texas
›› 1646 Hours (Central Time Zone)
Even at a distance, Shel could pick out the Rafter M property lines.
There was something about the land that tied a man to it. No matter how determined a man was, he couldn’t fully escape the area where he grew up. Men Shel had met in the service who’d grown up in metropolitan areas were often marked by those environments as well. Even before Shel had joined the NCIS, he’d learned that if a man knew what to look for, he could tell a lot about where another person grew up just by watching.
He stopped the rental car a quarter mile from the turnoff to the narrow rutted road that led up to the ranch house where he’d grown up. He told himself that he was just getting out to stretch from the long drive and from all the hours spent in airplanes and airports. Given that he’d made the trip so suddenly, he hadn’t been able to secure a straight shot home. He’d also had two long layovers waiting on standby for last-minute flights.
He wore jeans, a pair of his favorite cowboy boots that were worked in and comfortable, a Texas Rangers ball cap he’d bought to knock the sun off, a brown USMC T-shirt, his pistol on his hip, and sunglasses. He’d shaved in the airport bathroom to keep himself clean-looking but also just for something to do.
Max got out of the car and put his nose to the ground. It didn’t take the dog long to find a jackrabbit lazing in the shade and avoiding the blistering heat. Max slowly closed on the rabbit, and it waited until the last minute to make its break. The rabbit exploded from the ground, kicked out at Max with its powerful back legs, and zipped across the countryside in a broken field sprint. Max tried to follow, but he had too much mass and kept overrunning his target.