“I don’t want to see them.” Tyrel held up a shaking hand.
“Fine. Then I’ll tell you what Nita found when she examined that body.” Shel put the photographs away. “She found slash marks along the underside of his jaw that were made with a sawtooth blade. The kind of combat knife Victor Gant carried back in those days. A lot of guys carried those survival knives.”
Tyrel stared at Shel.
“Yeah,” Shel said, “that’s what we were wondering too. Why would anyone cut the throat of a dead man?”
“Denny’s face and chest were covered with blood,” Tyrel whispered.
“You shot him, Daddy,” Shel said. “But he was already dead at the time. You were drunk and doing something stupid, and I guess if you want to feel guilty about something, you can feel guilty about that. But you didn’t kill anyone that night.”
Tyrel just stared at his son.
“After we found out PFC Hinton’s throat had been slashed, we talked with Fat Mike Wiley, Victor Gant’s second-in-command.” He smiled a little. “While we were over in Vietnam, we went ahead and arrested both of them.”
Tyrel finally found his voice. “Guess you were busy.”
“Yes, sir. Wiley wanted to cut a deal. He’s gonna testify against Victor Gant and a man named Tran, give up their whole heroin operation, in exchange for life imprisonment. It wasn’t a bad deal, because either the Vietnamese or the American military was going to execute him for murder one.”
Tyrel lay still and quiet.
“He told us that Victor Gant knew PFC Hinton was working undercover as an informer for the Army CID. They were trying to nail Gant for his black market dealings.”
“Denny was working with the CID?”
Shel nodded. “Gant found out. You were Hinton’s friend. That night in the bar, Gant used you to get to Hinton. He took both of you out into the jungle. Then he killed Hinton and set you up to make you think that you did it. When you shot Hinton, he was already dead. You didn’t kill him, Daddy. You been paying for a crime you didn’t commit.”
Tyrel closed his eyes. “My God,” he whispered. “All those years.” He looked back at Shel, and his face knotted as he tried to remain calm and collected. “All those years, I lived just knowing the Army was going to come get me at any time. I’ve been scared for forty years. I was afraid of letting your mama or you or Don get too close to me. I thought they’d come get me; then what would you do?”
“I know,” Shel said. “It took me a while to figure it all out. But I did. You did the best that you could.”
Tyrel shook his head. “No. I was never the daddy to you boys that my daddy was to me. You didn’t get to know him, Shel. He died before you were born. But he was a good man. Not like me. He knew how to be a daddy. I–I just-”
A fresh lump formed in the back of Shel’s throat, and he barely choked it down. “Daddy, you did what you could. And you did every part of it you knew how. In your own way, you were trying to protect us.”
Tyrel’s face writhed as he struggled to speak. “I remember how it was when my daddy died, Shel. I was seventeen. He died in a car wreck when a drunk in a truck hit his tractor. He was just… gone. I couldn’t stand for you boys to have to go through that. I didn’t want either you or Don to feel the way I felt. It was awful and hurt something fierce. I didn’t think I was ever going to get over it. Maybe I never did. I didn’t want that for you two.”
“Daddy, someday we’re all gonna have to let each other go. At least for a little while. It’s just how things are. But there’s something past this life. I’ve always known that. Don didn’t have to tell me that.” Shel stared at his daddy. “But we can take the time we have here and use it the best way we know how. That’s all we can do.”
Tyrel shook his head. “Look at me. I’m old. I’m used up. My heart don’t even work the way it used to. There ain’t much left.”
“There’s enough,” Shel said. “There’s enough if you want there to be. In this case, I feel certain God’s gonna make sure of that.”
Quietly, hesitantly, Tyrel sat up in bed. Then he pushed himself off it and walked over to Shel. “You’re telling me,” he whispered hoarsely, “that I’m free. I don’t have to look over my shoulder, and I don’t have to feel guilty no more.”
“No, sir. Not one more second.”
“I want you to know that I love you, Shel. I always have. I just couldn’t-”
“I know, Daddy. I know.”
Carefully Tyrel McHenry reached for his son; then he pulled him into a fierce embrace that almost squeezed the breath from Shel’s lungs.
For the first time in his life since he was eight years old, Shelton McHenry put his arms around his daddy and held him tight. His daddy smelled of soap and shaving cream, of old saddles and hay, and he was built rawhide tough from hard ways and mean ways and from working from sunup to sundown.
In that moment, Shel felt certain he knew what God’s love was like. It was wild and powerful, complete and enduring, just like his daddy’s love had always been though he hadn’t known it.
“I love you too, Daddy,” Shel whispered. “I love you too.”