“Right, okay.” He went back to his lunch, methodically chewing his sandwich and drinking his coffee, the veins in his strong hands pronounced. But he never looked at her again. And Michelle could not bring herself to amend what she’d already said.
As she and Sean were cleaning up after the meal someone knocked at the front door. She went to answer it and came back a minute later holding a large cardboard box.
Sean put the last cup in the dishwasher, closed it, and turned to her. “What’s that? For your dad?”
“No, for you.”
“Me!”
She set it down on the table and read the return address. “General Tom Holloway? Department of Defense?”
“My two-star buddy. Looks like he came through with the AWOL records.”
“But how did they get here?”
“I e-mailed him on the drive down to Tennessee and left this address just in case he had something and we were still down here. Open it up, quick.”
Michelle used a pair of scissors to slit open the box. Inside were separate plastic binders, about three dozen of them. She pulled a few out. They were copies of official Army investigation reports.
“I know he’s your friend and all, but why would the Army provide a civilian with this stuff? And do so with such speed?”
Sean took one of the binders and started sifting through it.
“Sean? I asked you a question.”
He glanced up. “Well, aside from the football tickets I might’ve let slip that the White House was behind our investigation and that any cooperation they could lend would be personally pleasing to both the president and the First Lady. Knowing the Army, I’m sure they checked that out and found it was true. First rule in the military, never do anything to piss off the commander in chief.”
“I’m impressed.”
“That’s apparently what I live for.”
“So we go through these?”
“Page by page. Line by line. And hope to God it’s the break we need.”
A door slammed. Michelle rose and looked out the window in time to see her father climb in his car and drive off.
“Where do you think he’s going?” asked Sean.
Michelle sat back down. “How should I know? I’m not the man’s keeper.”
“The man saved your life.”
“And I thanked him for that, didn’t I?”
“Before I go any further, am I getting close to the point where you usually tell me to go to hell?”
“Perilously close.”
“I thought so.” He turned back to the binder.
“I do love my father. And I loved my mother.”
“I’m sure. And I know these things get complicated.”
“I think my family wrote the book on complicated.”
“Your brothers seem pretty normal.”