ask your questions.”
“What’s your connection with Tyler Wingo?”
“Confidential. Unless he’s waived it.”
“He’s not old enough to be your client.”
“While it’s true we couldn’t enforce a contract against Tyler because he has not yet reached the age of majority, we accord all clients, regardless of age, the same professional courtesy of maintaining confidentialities.”
“Then this conversation will be very short.”
“What I was hoping for, actually,” said Sean.
McKinney opened the file, pulled a piece of paper from it, and slid it across to Sean. He looked down at it while Michelle read over his shoulder.
“As you can see, Tyler Wingo has waived any confidentiality rights he might have. So you can answer my question. What is your relationship with him?”
Sean pushed the paper away. “How much did you have to threaten to get him to sign that?”
“We don’t threaten kids, Mr. King. He signed it because he wanted to. Now, what is your relationship?”
“He retained us to investigate his father’s death.”
“His father was KIA in Afghanistan. He and his stepmother were duly informed of this. There is nothing you can add to that. It’s not like you can fly into Afghanistan and start poking around. It’s a war zone and a military zone and you would have no jurisdiction whatsoever as your PI license does not extend to international domains. I checked.”
Sean said nothing to this.
“So were you trying to take advantage of the boy? Did he pay you money? Did you ask for a retainer?”
“We haven’t gotten a cent from Tyler.”
“You mean not yet? But you would have billed him, right?”
“Have you really checked us out?” asked Michelle. “I’m assuming you have. So you have to know that we’re legit. We don’t run around like ambulance chasers trying to get money out of grieving teenagers. We found Tyler running down the street in the middle of a storm. He was upset. We took him back home. He contacted me and said he wanted us to look into his father’s death. We told him there wasn’t much we could do.”
“And so why didn’t it end right there?” interjected McKinney.
“Because he was insistent. We really didn’t want to take the case,” said Sean. “But at the same time, if he was going to pursue it, I would rather it be people like us than others who might take advantage of him.”
“What more did you possibly think you could learn about his father’s death? It occurred in Kandahar in combat, for God’s sake.”
Michelle said, “On the surface it seemed like nothing. His father was dead. Small-arms fire. Coffin was supposed to arrive at Dover.” She paused and looked at Sean. “But then things started getting a little squirrelly.”
“Squirrelly how?” asked McKinney.
“For starters, now the Army is telling him that his father was also hit by a mortar shell and there is really nothing left of the body. So no Dover.”
“So what?” asked McKinney. “Combat is not neat and tidy. The man is still dead. He’s certainly not the first casualty, nor will he be the last unfortunately.”
“Right,” said Sean. “So why is the Army and now DHS so interested? You said this was a national security issue. How?”
“You really think I can answer that?”
“Well, if it is a national security issue then you’ve just as good as told us this situation is different, because most soldiers who get killed in combat are not normally at the epicenter of a DHS matter. You can’t have it both ways, Agent McKinney.”
“On the contrary, I can have it any way I want. What I’m telling you is to back off and stay away from Tyler Wingo.”
“So the kid is not going to be told the truth?”
“His father is dead. That’s all he needs to know. Now let him grieve properly.”
“But is his father really dead?” asked Michelle. The statement drew a warning glance from Sean that she ignored.
“What the hell do you mean by that?” snapped McKinney.
Michelle leaned forward and went eye-to-eye with him. “Well, national security claims are so often accompanied by bullshit that I was just wondering. Are you guys going back to the daily color updates anytime soon? What was orange for again, imminent annihilation or perilous peril? I could never keep them straight.”
“Do you know how miserable I can make your life?” said McKinney, pointing a finger at her.
“Pretty miserable,” replied Sean as he hooked Michelle’s arm. “We’ll be going now unless you have any more questions or objections.”
McKinney glared at Michelle. “I do not want to see you again. If I do, it will not be pleasant for you. That’s a promise and I always keep my word.”
“Is that it?” asked Sean.
McKinney leaned forward. “This is your last warning. You’re at the edge of the cliff. Don’t take the next step.”
A minute later Sean and Michelle were being escorted out of the building.
They were dropped off at the Panera. The black SUV roared away, leaving them staring at each other in the parking lot.
Michelle folded her arms over her chest and leaned against her Land Cruiser.
“I am officially and majorly pissed off,” she exclaimed.
Sean wearily rubbed his temples. “Why did you think it was smart to let him know we doubt Sam Wingo is dead?”
“Because I was unofficially pissed off back then and he was acting like such a smug bastard. I lost control.”
“You need to control your emotions better, Michelle, or we’re going to get our asses handed to us. This is DHS and DoD we’re facing. Together they are the one-ton gorilla that stomps on anyone it wants to.”
She pushed off from the truck. “How can we leave this alone now? There is something going on, Sean. You know it and I know it.”
“I’m not disputing that. The question is how do we keep going and stay out of jail at the same time.”
“We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Do you think they need a real reason to stick us away somewhere? He as good as told us that. National security, Michelle. Like McKinney said, it trumps the Constitution. Hell, they might even send us to Gitmo. No one would ever find us.”
“Well, I’m not giving up.”
“I didn’t say anything about giving up. I just meant we had to do it smart.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Oh, don’t worry. When I think of one you’ll be the first to know.”
CHAPTER
20
TYLER WINGO SAT ON HIS BED in his room and studied the piece of paper. He’d written down the message he’d received from his father before deleting it. Not that he could ever forget it. But he’d written it down because that made it seem more real than if it was just in his head.
His father’s message was both straightforward and puzzling.
I am sorry. Please forgive me.
Sorry for what, Dad? What do you want me to forgive you for? Dying? But you can’t be dead. You aren’t dead.
Tyler folded the paper twice and slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans. He lay back on his bed and gazed around his room. Every surface carried memories of his father, from the sports and music posters on the walls, to the baseball glove and football gathering dust on a shelf, to the framed photo of the two of them at a swim meet where his father had been a timer.
Tyler snaked a hand inside his T-shirt and pulled out the pair of official dog tags his father had had made for him. He rubbed the flat metal between his fingers and wondered where his dad might be right now. Did he have his dog tags? Was he safe? Was the email sent after he was supposedly dead really from him? Or was it somehow a big mistake? He knew his father had written it, because it had been in their special code.
He rolled over onto his stomach and stared at the raindrops on his window. It had been a gloomy day and now a cold overcast night and thus a perfect ma
tch for what he was feeling. He had always thought that he would know if his dad had been injured over there. He thought he would just feel it. But then again he thought he would be able to tell that about his mom. And he and his dad had found her on the floor of her bathroom with a bullet in her head and the gun beside her. Her suicide note had been neatly folded and on the counter next to the sink. Its contents had been terse.
I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you.
He shook his head to rid himself of the image of this final message from her. But it was always there, just in the back of his mind, ready to poke out when he least expected it. It could drive the smile off his face in a split second or drown a laugh in his throat.
He rose and walked over to his desk, an old-style military metal model that his father had gotten when the Army had cleaned out some surplus inventory during the expansion of Fort Belvoir in Alexandria.
He sat down, slid open the top drawer, and pulled the photo out.
He traced the faces of his father, his mom, and him. They had been at the Army 5K that he had run with his dad. They were happy, all smiles; the sun was shining and they were celebrating with ice cream cones after the run. Hugs, smiles, and ice cream barely five years ago. Then less than a year later everything had changed. No, everything had collapsed. His life became something else entirely. It was as though this room, this photo even, didn’t belong to him. As though it were telling the history of someone else, because Tyler really no longer recognized the person that used to be him.
First, his mom dying. And then his dad marrying a woman Tyler didn’t really even know. And now his dad was gone. In a way each of the people in that photo, his dad, his mom, and even him, was truly gone.
“Tyler?”
He didn’t move. He just sat there staring at the photo.
Jean slipped into the room and perched on the edge of his bed.
“Tyler?” she said again but barely above a whisper.
He still didn’t move.
“Can you at least look at me?”
He finally looked at her blankly.
She said, “You didn’t eat your dinner.”
“Wasn’t hungry.”
“You swim miles at practice. How can you not be starving?”
“Just not.”
He turned back to the photo.
“They told me about those people.”
He glanced at her sharply. “What people?”
“The man and woman who brought you home that night. I don’t remember their names.”
“Sean King and Michelle Maxwell.”
“Right. Anyway, they won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“They weren’t bothering me. I hired them.”
“To do what exactly?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“No, I’m not going to try you.”
“Your father is dead, Tyler. We can’t change that.”
“That’s right, we can’t.”
“So why hire those people?”
“Like I said, you wouldn’t understand.”
She stood. “Don’t you think I miss him too?”
“I don’t know, Jean. Do you?”
“How can you possibly say that? I loved him.”
“If you say so.”
“Why do you have to be this way to me?”
He spun around in his chair. “Because I don’t really know you. It’s like I’m living with a stranger.”
“I’ve been your stepmother for nearly a year.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t mean I know you. We’ve never spoken more than a few words to each other. I wasn’t invited to see you get married. I didn’t even know you two were getting married. Don’t you think that’s weird? I’m his only kid.”
“Your father wanted it that way.”
Tyler rose, his face flushed. “No,” he snapped. “My dad would not have wanted it that way. He would have wanted me to be a part of it.”
“He was afraid you’d be upset that he was remarrying.”
“And his solution was to just bring you home one day and tell me you’re my stepmom? How does that make sense?”
“Regardless, honey, we have to try to get along. We’re all that’s left for each other.”
Tyler looked like he might be sick. “We don’t have each other, Jean. We’ve never had each other. I’m an orphan now. I don’t have anybody.”
There was an awkward silence and then Jean said, “The Army is sending some care volunteers here tomorrow.”
“Care volunteers? What for?”
“To help us. They can run errands. Take you to school. Help with meals. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. A lot of things to cope with.”
“Well, you can take me off your coping list. I don’t need any help. And I can get myself to school.”
“Tyler, you can’t just shut everyone out.”
“I’m going to find out what really happened to my dad. And I’ve got people who will help me. I’m going to find the truth, Jean.” He added with a shout, “I will.”
He jumped up and rushed down the stairs.
She started to go after him but then stopped. She walked to his desk, gazed down at the photo of the three Wingos, and then slipped a phone from her jeans pocket.
She thumbed in a text message and sent it off. It was only four words, but they actually said quite a lot.
We have a problem.
Tyler grabbed a set of car keys off the hook next to the fridge, went out the side door, and climbed into his father’s pickup truck. Every scent was his dad’s. There was a gun rack in the back window and an American flag sticker on the lower right-hand corner of the windshield. A pair of miniature plastic army boots dangled on a chain hung from the rearview mirror.
The two floor mats read, I Am Army Strong.
Tyler started the truck, popped it into reverse, and backed out of the driveway. He glanced at the clock on the dash. Nearly eight p.m. He stopped at the curb and thumbed in a text. He waited. A few seconds later he got a reply. He hit the gas and sped down the road.
Five minutes later he pulled up in front of Kathy Burnett’s house. She was waiting for him on the sidewalk. She climbed into the truck and shut the door firmly behind her.
He looked at her. “What did you tell your parents?”
“That I was going to see Linda down the street. She’ll cover for me.”
He nodded and drove off.
“What did you want to talk about?” asked Kathy.
Tyler didn’t answer her right away. “Stuff,” he said at last.
“What kind of stuff? About your dad, you mean?”
He nodded.
“Tyler, what’s really going on?”
He glanced at her and slowed down. “What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about those two detectives you hired? Why did you need them?”
“Stuff about my dad, I told you.”
“But your dad was killed in combat. The Army told you that. I’m a military brat like you. We all understand that could happen. There’s no mystery about it.”
“Well, there might be some mystery here,” he replied.