Tyrel wished the man would shut up. Waiting in the long line was making him as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He didn’t need to try to be carrying on a conversation at the same time.
He glanced at the people at the side of the street. The border allowed a lot of walk-through traffic as well. If not for the checkpoint, El Paso and Juarez might as well have been one large city. They were of equal size, but there was a vast difference in the appearance and the economies.
As he watched, a young boy of nine or ten walked beside his mother. The boy was eating a hot dog and holding on to a bright blue balloon. The balloon jerked in the wind and captured the boy’s attention.
The young mother balanced a sleeping child in her arms and chatted amiably on a cell phone. She hardly paid any attention to the older boy.
The boy with the balloon stopped suddenly. His balloon floated away and he grabbed his throat. Panic filled his face. His mouth opened to yell-but nothing came out. He grabbed his mother’s dress.
Angry, the young mother turned around to admonish her son. Then she saw him holding his throat. His sunburned face reddened more.
Somebody help him, Tyrel thought. He’s choking.
“Help me!” the young mother screamed. She dropped the cell phone and grabbed her son’s arm. Wakened, the baby started screaming too. “My son needs help! Please! Someone help me!”
The bystanders backed away as the boy continued to struggle to breathe.
Tyrel couldn’t believe it. Surely someone was going to help.
No one did.
Without thinking, Tyrel threw the cab door open. Images of Don and Shel ran through his mind. He remembered how he’d always been afraid of something happening to them when they were young. It was a parent’s worst nightmare.
Like a broken-field runner, Tyrel made his way through the stalled lines of cars till he reached the boy. The woman still yelled for help.
“I can help him,” Tyrel told the woman. “Give him to me.”
Reluctantly the woman let go of her son. “He’s not breathing. He can’t breathe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler said. “I know.” He felt a little panicked himself. When Don and Shel were little, he’d worried about them. Especially Shel because he’d been fearless growing up. Don had had more sense. Tyrel had worried even more when Shel enlisted and went off to fight in the Middle East.
The boy fought Tyrel, pushing at his hands.
“Listen to me, son,” Tyrel said calmly. “You’re gonna be all right. We’re gonna get through this.” He forced the boy’s jaws apart and peered into his mouth.
There was no visible obstruction.
Tyrel stepped behind the boy and placed his hands together in a double fist just above the boy’s navel. He pulled in and up, fast and hard, just like he’d learned to do when the boys were small. In all those years, Tyrel had never had to Heimlich anyone, but once he’d been shown something, he never forgot it.
Nothing happened. The boy still couldn’t breathe.
Tyrel knew that a crowd of people had gathered around them. All of them watched. He cursed them all. What he was doing was something anyone could do. The only reason he was there was because no one else would step up.
“C’mon, boy,” Tyrel coaxed. “You’re scaring your mama. I’m right here, and I ain’t gonna give up on you.” He pulled again.
This time the piece of hot dog stuck in the boy’s throat exploded from his mouth. He sucked in a ragged breath, then cried out in pain and fear. He fought against Tyrel’s hold.
“Hold up there, partner,” Tyrel said. “Let’s make sure we got it all.”
The boy trembled as he turned back toward Tyrel. When he tilted the boy’s head back, he looked in his mouth and down his throat.
The child was breathing normally now.
“It’s okay,” Tyrel told him. “It’s okay.” He released the boy, who immediately ran to his mother.
She was crying and shaking, but she held her son tightly. The boy held on to her and cried too.
“Thank you,” she told Tyrel. “Thank you so much.”
Tyrel touched his hat and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Glad I was here to help.”
The crowd around them suddenly erupted with applause.
Embarrassed, Tyrel ignored them and turned to walk back to the waiting cab. He intended to finish his escape now that the line was moving again. He was only a few minutes away from freedom.
However, when he stepped from the curb, it felt like the top of his head had come unscrewed and someone had dumped spiders inside. A tickling sensation ate at the edges of his thoughts; then black spots appeared in his vision.
He tried to keep walking even though he felt woozy. He didn’t take more than four or five steps before it felt like someone drove a railroad spike straight through the center of his heart. His legs went out from under him and he fell between two cars. On his back, he stared up at the sky and saw the sun dimming in the west.
Tyrel tried to get up, but the viselike pain in his chest grew even tighter. His vision closed to small tunnels. People came over to him and looked down. Tyrel tried to take a breath and couldn’t. Blackness consumed him.
49
›› Rafter M Ranch
›› Outside Fort Davis, Texas
›› 0125 Hours (Central Time Zone)
Someone was knocking on the door.
Worn and exhausted though he was, Shel woke immediately. Out of habit, he reached for the SOCOM. 45 hidden under the cushion of the couch where he slept. Don had tried to get him to come home with him, but Shel hadn’t been ready to do that. He’d needed time alone to think and decompress.
In the end, after much talking-which had only further exhausted him-and because Don didn’t have the strength to continue, his brother had left. Shel had also invited Will and the other NCIS agents to stay at the house, but they’d declined, and he’d been glad. He’d dropped his duffel on the bed in the room he’d once shared with Don, then headed out to the couch to sleep.
Max was already up and awaiting orders.
The knocking repeated.
The house was dark. After everyone had left at eight o’clock or so, finally relinquishing the site, satisfied there was nothing more that could be learned about what had happened, Shel had raided the refrigerator. He’d found leftover pinto beans and some cold corn bread. He’d microwaved both and ate at the table. He had never felt lonelier or less certain.
“Shel?” It was Will’s voice.
“Yeah?” Shel stood by the door and peered through the window.
Will appeared to be alone. His rental SUV was parked out front next to the one Shel was driving.
“Can I come in?”
Shel tucked the pistol in his waistband at his back and unlocked the door. He could tell by Will’s face that something bad had happened.
“What’s going on?” Shel asked.
“The El Paso police called,” Will said.
Shel took his cell phone from his pocket and glanced at it. The battery was dead. During all the confusion, he’d forgotten to charge it. The home phone lines had been cut when Victor Gant and his crew had tried to kill Tyrel. Shel looked at Will but couldn’t ask what was most on his mind.
“Your father’s been located,” Will said. “There was an incident at the border. It appears he stopped to help a boy who was choking, then suffered a heart attack.”
A heart attack? The words poured ice water through Shel’s veins. People die from heart attacks.
“Is Daddy going to be all right?” Shel asked.
Will’s face softened. “They don’t know. The doctors say it’s too soon to tell. They’ve got him stabilized.”
Shel nodded and took in a deep breath. He felt dizzy and hurt all at the same time. “Does Don know?”
“Estrella went to tell him. I figured this was news he didn’t need to hear over the phone, and since we’re staying at a hotel outside of town, we were about equal distance. The sheriff’s loaning us a helicopter so we can get to El Paso sooner.”