Chance didn’t move. His fingers were numb; he couldn’t feel his arms or legs, either.

“Here, I’ll help you.”

The man stood, his eyes damp, flat and gray. He pressed the gun to Chance’s neck, and manipulated the cuffs one-handed. One wrist. The second. He sat again, and the room tilted.

This can’t be real …

But the man was right there, dry-skinned and pale, with those street-puddle eyes. “I need a favor,” he said. “A phone call. You have a friend, Gibson French.” Chance nodded; felt drool at the corner of his mouth. “Is it Gibby or Gibson?”

Chance blinked slowly. “Gibby.”

“I’d like to meet him. Now. This morning. I’d like him to come here, and I want you to make that happen.”

I heard my father’s footsteps long before he knocked on the door. I’d not really slept. That kind of night.

“Gibson?”

Another knock would come—no stopping it. I could all but predict the timing.

Five, four, three …

“Come on in, Dad.”

He looked as sleep-deprived as I felt. Same clothes as last night. Same red eyes and stubble. “Good morning. Did you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” I said.

“Yeah, me, too.”

That’s how the day started, with a pair of matching lies. He sat on the bed, and had trouble with my eyes. His big hands looked useless, too. I didn’t know what he wanted, but words gathered in my mouth, as if they had plans of their own. “I know why the Marine Corps kicked Jason out.”

It’s not what he’d expected to hear. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Have you been in my office?”

“I have not.”

“Where did you get that information?”

“Does it really matter?” He said nothing, and the silence told me everything I needed to know. “You know the reasons, too, don’t you? Why they sent him home with a dishonorable discharge?” He did; I could tell that, too. “Do you know about the medals?”

My father moved toward the window, looking as if he’d kicked over a box marked VENOMOUS REPTILES, and was in fear of whatever creature might crawl out first. “I do,” he said.

“And the massacre?”

“Jesus Christ, son.” He palmed his eyes, paler than usual. “That’s classified information.”

“They say that without Jason, it might have been another My Lai.”

“You did break into my desk. You read the damn file, the DOD file on your brother.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” But I had considered it. “I’m right, though. Aren’t I?”

“It’s not a fair comparison. American soldiers slaughtered five hundred villagers at My Lai, civilians, every one of them, women and children, even infants. This wasn’t like that.”

“It could have been, though. They say Jason saved an entire village.”

“Few things in war are so black and white.”

“This was. His actions were.”