Free Blood Lines by Mel Odom Page A

him.
    â€œHow far out are they?”
    Maggie brought up her GPS program and entered the ID designation for Shel’s Jeep. It took only a second to locate the vehicle and mark its position. “They’re in Charlotte now. It shouldn’t be long.”
    Will took a fresh cup of coffee. “When you know something . . .”
    â€œYou’ll be my first call.”

    >> 1915 Hours
    Will stood in his office and peered out the window. The camp was still light enough that he could easily see the surrounding grounds. Everything was green and full. He knew if he opened the window he’d be able to smell the ocean.
    Maybe I should have gone fishing, he thought. But he knew that wouldn’t have helped his mood. If anything, it would have made the situation worse.
    â€œTrying to hypnotize that window?”
    Refocusing on the glass, Will saw Maggie’s reflection as she leaned in the doorway behind him. She was petite, a handful of inches over five feet, with an athletic body kept taut and fit through rigorous exercise. Her dark brown hair dusted her shoulders, and she regarded him with deep hazel eyes. She wore a black skirt and a white blouse, looking like all she had to do was throw on a jacket to have dinner at one of the best restaurants in Jacksonville, the city just outside Camp Lejeune. She was intelligent and insightful and incredibly competent in the field.
    â€œMaybe,” Will replied. “I think I’ve almost got it.”
    Maggie smiled. “So how did today with Steven and Wren go?”
    Will hesitated long enough to make sure he spoke in a conversational tone. “I didn’t come here to get counseling.”
    â€œOf course you didn’t. You came here because you didn’t want to go home and sit there alone.”
    Will sipped his coffee. She was right; he had been avoiding the emptiness of his living quarters.
    â€œI have a counselor I talk to these days,” he said. Maggie had helped him get in touch with one of the people on base.
    â€œIs it helping?”
    It was the first time she’d asked. Will was a private person about a lot of things, and he was especially private about the painful things. What he was still going through—even after the divorce—hurt more than he wanted it to. And he didn’t like talking about it.
    â€œI think so,” Will replied.
    â€œGood.” Maggie waited, then prompted him again. “So how’s it going tonight?”
    â€œI’m planning on talking to Doug about it next session.”
    â€œDoug’s not here right now. A lot has changed the last month. Your ex-wife has a new husband. Steven and Wren have a new stepfather. Those are big things. And Father’s Day is a red-letter day.” Maggie shrugged. “I thought maybe you might want to talk about it.”
    Will did. And he didn’t. It was a brief struggle before the balance tipped. He took a deep breath and let the air out, and some of the tension inside his chest broke.
    â€œIt’s kind of confusing actually,” he admitted.
    â€œBecause now Barbara is married again and you’re not.”
    Will thought about that. “Because Barbara is married again,” he agreed. “Not because I’m not. The last thing the kids or I need right now is another stepparent involved in the mix.”
    Maggie smiled. “You’re probably right. I suspect Barbara wouldn’t handle you getting married with the same grace you’ve handled her marriage.”
    â€œThe way I’ve handled it hasn’t felt very graceful.” In fact, Will sometimes felt certain that he wouldn’t have made it through the transition at all without God’s help. That closeness he felt—though at times it was still strained because of all the horrors he saw in his line of work—had gotten stronger in him. He’d learned to acknowledge God’s presence as his quiet strength.
    â€œI think you