A baby spotlight picked her out. She had become the center of the show while the lead guitarist continued his solo. She was beautiful, and Joey was sure every guy in the club knew it.

"She's flauntin' it, man," Leonard crowed. "That's harsh to watch, dude. I mean, if you're all caught up in her like you seem to be."

"She's just dancing," Joey said defensively. "She likes to dance. She dances all the time." The excuse sounded lame and he regretted it instantly.

"Yeah," Leonard agreed. "Jenny's always been that way."

Remembering the way she had called on Leonard to help her start her surf run, Joey asked, "You know jenny?"

Leonard nodded. "A couple years now. Maybe." He scratched his big, shaggy head. "Kinda hard to remember. Hey, I'm gonna grab a beer."

Joey glanced back at the stage where jenny was still breaking the frenetic beat down into popping dance moves that brought cheers from the crowd. She wasn't like any of the girls he'd known back at the base. Clouded with angry disgust and confusion, especially since part of him enjoyed that Jenny was such a hit because he had brought her, he followed Leonard to the bar.

"Man," Leonard said, looking back at the stage, "Jenny's stealin' the show." He grinned and shook his head. Then he looked at Joey. "I always feel sorry for the guys she dates."

"Why?" Joey asked. A few weeks ago when he had met jenny, he'd thought she was the sexiest girl he'd ever met.

"She's fickle, man. Don't stay with nothin' or nobody for long." Leonard ordered a beer from the tattooed bartender dressed in holey jeans and a sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off. Laser lights gleamed against his shaved head and glinted from his piercings.

The bartender looked at Joey.

"Beer," Joey said, digging money out of his pants pocket.

The bartender tossed his bar towel over his shoulder and leaned on the bar. "You don't look old enough, kid."

"I got ID," Joey argued. He was seventeen. The club, Ragged Metal, had a mandatory minimum age of twenty-one.

"You're twenty-one?" The bartender grinned in disbelief.

"Yeah." Joey fought to keep his eyes locked on the bartender. That was one of the things that Goose had taught him: always look another man in the eye. Tony, Joey's real dad, had never stuck around long enough to teach him anything about being a man. Maintaining eye contact was still hard for him, and for a moment Joey had the sick feeling that he was going to cry or look away.

"C'mon, Ace," Leonard said. "Get off him. He's got ID or he woulda never got past Turco at the front door." "Looks young to me," Ace argued.

Joey knew he looked young. He couldn't help that. He got his slim, dark looks from his dad, who'd looked like a kid well into his twenties. Dressed in torn stonewashed jeans that his mom would have so totally freaked over and a red muscle tank top under an unbuttoned chambray shirt, he figured he looked a lot older. If his mustache or beard would ever come in heavier, that would help.

Until then, he had the fake ID that David Wilson, one of the other base teens, had made for him. Living on base wasn't all bad, David would say, because some of the best computer equipment going was there and easy to access. Fake IDs were only part of the services the clever fourteen-year-old provided-for a fee. Joey's ID had cost some cash and some baseball cards that he had collected with Goose. That had been back before Chris was born, back when Goose still had time for him.

"He comes from over at the base," Leonard said. "You know how the Army guys make their kids dress."

"Not all of them go for the conservative look," Ace argued.

Leonard gestured with his beer. "Your dad a career guy?"

"Yeah." Joey didn't bother to mention that Goose was his stepdad. And he was surprised that Leonard had pegged him as a military brat so quickly. Joey had thought he was disguised. "Almost twenty years." Or more. Joey couldn't quite remember. He just knew that with Goose the time seemed like forever. He couldn't imagine Goose being anything but a soldier, although Grandpa Gander told stories from time to time about Goose as a kid.

According to those stories, Goose had always been a Goody Two-shoes, which gave Joey and him less to talk about now that Joey was deep into his teen years and wanted more out of life than Goose evidently had. Goose had worked with his father as a carpenter in Waycross, hunted and fished the swamp, and signed with the army almost right out of high school.

"Officer?" Leonard asked.

"Non-com," Joey answered. "First Sergeant." He was surprised at how he said it and at the pride he felt. He hoped Leonard didn't notice because that was pure geek.

The bartender pulled a beer up, opened the bottle, and slid it across the bar while taking the folded money Joey had placed on the counter.

"Tough guy?" Leonard turned and placed his back to the bar, hooking his elbows over the edge.

"Goose? He's one of the toughest." Joey sipped his beer. The taste was awful and he worked hard not to grimace because Ace was still watching him suspiciously. He'd only tasted beer a handful of times. None of those times had been pleasant and he really didn't see why people bothered to acquire the taste. But they did, and if he wanted to be cool and fit in with the crowd jenny hung with, he knew he'd have to acquire that taste, too.

"So where did you meet Jenny?" Leonard took out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. He blew blue smoke into the air and a purple laser light shot through the cloud for just a moment.

Joey glanced over his shoulder and felt another wave of anger. There was so much of it in him that it worried him sometimes. It worried his family, too. That was one of the reasons his mom had first started making him go to church. She was a counselor, and yet she was too close to this problem to completely solve it. So she'd dumped the problem into God's lap. Terrific solution. Maybe church had helped her as a kid, but it wasn't working for him. He felt picked on by life, by his real dad, by the fact that he and his mom had to survive on so little, not get to do so many things, and by Goose going away so much. He just felt abandoned.

His mom had hoped that church would help him get over those feelings. She talked to him about faith, but so much of what she said had come across like counseling stuff. He didn't have faith, and he knew it. Everyone had abandoned him, and God had never showed up in his life.

When things had finally started to get better, after Goose married his mom, Chris-"one of God's most precious gifts"-showed up and took everything away from him again. Even Bill's kind words and well-meaning approach to the situation didn't put a different spin on things. And Bill was one of the most insightful adults Joey had ever met.

The harsh thing about having a little brother dropped into his life was that Joey couldn't hate Chris. He'd wanted to, but his little brother was so cool and loving and looked up to him so much while Goose wasn't around that Joey knew he could never really hate his little brother. Still, there were moments that resentment crept in between them. But the love was real, maybe the realest thing Joey had ever felt, because Chris didn't seem to expect anything back.

In fact, thinking about Chris now, Joey felt guilty that he wasn't home to make sure his little brother was tucked in. That was one of the things that Goose had asked him to do.

But there'd been this date tonight with jenny.

He watched her up on the stage. Some date. He didn't know how he was going to handle the present situation.

"I met Jenny at work," Joey replied, answering Leonard's question. "Wick Dreams?"

Joey shook his head. "Kettle O' Fish. It's a restaurant. We're both servers."

Leonard drained a third of his beer. "Last I heard, jenny was working at the candle place in the mall."

Joey shrugged. He didn't know about that. In fact, it seemed like there were a lot of things he didn't know about jenny. "I met her at Kettle O' Fish. We worked a few shifts together, then she told me about this place and asked me out." He felt pretty good about that. He'd never had a girl ask him out before. The girls he knew on base usually found a way to let him know they were interested in him and wouldn't mind being asked out. He'd dated a lot, but he'd never met a girl like Jenny McGrath.

"Yep, that's Jenny." Leonard finished his beer, set the empty on the bar, and asked for another. "She always goes for guys that are younger than her. And definitely more innocent."

Joey almost argued the point on that one, but he didn't. Leonard was a big guy. Besides that, he had information about jenny that Joey wanted.

"Want a word of advice, kid?" Leonard asked.

The black anger Joey felt got the upper hand for a moment, making his voice sharp and quick.

"Do I look like I need advice?" Leonard glanced at him in surprise. For a minute, Joey got the impression the guy was going to jump him. Then Leonard grinned, and there was a trace of evil in the expression. "Yeah, you do."

Joey swallowed and kept back the immediate response that formed in his mind.

"My advice to you," Leonard said, "is to enjoy tonight. Maybe a couple other nights, and some real nice times. But don't get hung up on jenny. She ain't forever, man. She's just out to amuse herself, and you're just the flavor of the week."

Leonard's words slammed into Joey. He bridled against the prediction. The guy didn't know that. Jenny had come on really strong, talking to him, making time to be with him. The attraction wasn't one-sided. Joey was certain he wasn't the only one to feel it.

But Jenny was still dancing with the band, still in the spotlight and apparently loving it.

Feeling kind of sick, no longer able to tolerate the beer taste in his mouth, Joey turned back to the bar, intending to ask for an order of cheese nachos. Ace stood at the television mounted on the wall behind the bar. Channels cycled as the bartender used the remote control. The news broadcast caught Joey's attention.

On the screen, video footage of troops rushing across windswept desert sands bore the tagline SYRIAN-TURKISH BORDER. Explosions ripped across the stark landscape in the next instant.

Ace cycled past the news channel.

"Hey," Joey shouted.

The bartender turned around. "You want something, kid?"

"That news channel," Joey said. Goose! Goose was over there! "Let me see that again."

"You got somebody over there?" Ace asked.

"My dad," Joey answered without hesitation. "My dad is over there."

"That's harsh, man," the bartender said sympathetically as he switched the television channel back. "Looks like those guys on the front line are taking a beating.

United States of America Fort Benning, Georgia Local Time 12:42 A.M.

"My mom and dad got into an argument this evening."

"Before you came to the base hospital?"

"Yeah. A long time before."

As Megan watched Gerry Fletcher, her heart went out to the boy. Remaining professional in light of everything that had gone on so far tonight, especially after having to drop Chris off and not knowing where Joey was or if Goose was all right, tested her emotional control to the max. At the moment, with the clock ticking here and who-knew-what going on with her menfolk, she felt in over her head dealing with both Gerry and her own family crises. As she always had in other times of overwhelming stress and uncertainty about what course she should pursue, she quietly prayed to God.

She felt a little guilty just now because it seemed like she was praying to Him lately only to intercede on her behalf or her family's, not just to accept and talk and give thanks. But that was when she most needed Him: when things-like Gerry's situation-got the better of her. And when those things-like Gerry's situation-continued, sometimes she couldn't help feeling that God didn't care.

Upon occasion, Megan had unburdened herself to Bill Townsend when he had been visiting. Bill had always seemed so understanding, so seemingly in tune with God's ways, that he had been easy to talk to about her work and about her faith. She'd told Bill about the bad things she had dealt with while counseling the base kids, and Bill had told her that God's plan took everything into account, that no sparrow fell without notice. He couldn't explain why those terrible things happened, but he did believe they served a purpose that wasn't always within human understanding. From the way he had talked, Megan knew that Bill believed that. But she had her doubts, and times like tonight brought those doubts to the forefront.

Gerry sat in the bed with his back to the headboard. He held his good arm wrapped around his injured arm, his knees doubled up. Although he stared at the television set where the Lakers had just returned to the court after the half, Megan knew the boy no longer saw the game. He was reliving the night, reviewing another section of the never-ending nightmare his life had turned into these past few years.

"Your parents got into an argument," Megan prompted after a short while.

"Yeah," Gerry said.

"I'm sorry."

Gerry shrugged a little, taking care with his injured shoulder. "It's not your fault, Mrs. Gander. It's my fault." Tears ran down his scratched cheeks. "It's always my fault. That's what you don't understand. That's what I've been trying to tell you all this time, and you just don't listen. If you just listened and believed me, maybe we could fix me. Make me better."

"I know you, Gerry," Megan said softly. "You're a good person."

Stubbornly, sniffling and wiping at his tears, Gerry shook his head. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "I'm not. I can't be. If I was good, my mom and dad wouldn't fight so much over me."

"Your mom and dad haven't just fought over you," Megan said. "During our sessions, you said they've fought in the past over money and over jobs your mom has taken."

"Yeah, but they'd have more money if they didn't have me," Gerry said. "I've heard Dad say that. And if they didn't need more money because of me, Mom could be at home more."

"We've talked about this before. I thought we both agreed that your mom works because she likes work. She makes friends there." And, Megan suspected, Tonya Fletcher worked outside the home to get away from her controlling husband. Megan believed the abuse issue ran deeper than just Gerry. During her conversations with the woman, though, Megan had never gotten Tonya to open up.

"Maybe she wouldn't need friends if things were better at home." Gerry rested his chin on his knees. Tears continued to cascade down his cheeks. "Maybe she'd be happy with my dad."

"You don't think she's happy with him?" Megan pried at the situation as delicately as she could. Normally, she would have been tempted to wait until Gerry was better able to deal with the situation, but with the MPs about to be notified, she couldn't afford to do that. Boyd Fletcher was going to go through the roof when he found out what was going on.

"I don't know," Gerry answered. "I think they'd be fine. If it wasn't for me." He choked back a sob, faking a cough. "I've heard my dad say that. I told you he's said that."

Megan knew. When Gerry had told her he'd heard his dad say that, she'd felt sympathetic and angry all at once. No child should have to hear or endure the things Gerry had. But there were others out there that had things as bad and worse.

"Did you do something to cause the fight tonight?" Megan asked. The MPs would want to know, and it was better to know the answers to the questions those men would be asking so she didn't get blindsided.

"No." Shivers coursed through Gerry. "It just started over dinner."

"How did it start?"

"They were talking. About going out. Mom was tired. You could see that she was tired. Dad said he wished they could go to a movie, the way they used to before they had me. But they didn't have anyone to watch me and he didn't want to take me."

Megan forced herself to remain silent.

"Mom told Dad to go ahead and go, that she would stay with me while he got out of the house and relaxed for a little while. He said that going out wasn't the point, that he wanted to go out with her, that they never got to do anything together anymore."

The Fletchers rarely went out as a couple, Megan knew. But some of the gossip around the base was that Boyd liked to hit the bars, and having a fight with his wife gave him a good excuse to go.

"Dad got mad then," Gerry went on. "He started cussing and throwing things. He broke one of the vases Mom had made in her art class."

Evidence for the MPs, if it hasn't been cleaned up, Megan thought and felt immediately guilty that she had to think like that. Tonya Fletcher hadn't gotten to finish her art class due to her husband's reluctance to watch Gerry by himself. When Gerry had suffered his "bike wreck" during one of the art classes, Tonya had stopped going.

"After the vase got broke," Gerry said, "Mom got mad. She started yelling back at Dad. She hardly ever dares to do that. She said if anybody deserved to get out of the house, it was her because she was stuck there all day just waiting for him to come home and find something wrong with everything she did." The boy's voice lowered. "Then Dad said the way he heard it she wasn't there by herself all the time."

Megan measured the question carefully, then asked, "Your dad suspects your mom sometimes has company at home when your father is gone?" That was a new wrinkle in an already volatile situation.

Gerry wiped at his reddened eyes. "Dad says she does. But, Mrs. Gander, I've never seen anyone else there. I come home every day right when I'm supposed to, and I've never seen anyone. Mom just sits there alone." He sniffled, a little more under control now because he was so physically exhausted. "Sometimes, Dad asks me if I've seen anyone around the house when he's gone. He gets me by myself and asks me. But there's never been anyone there. I don't think he believes me, though. Most of the time he just tells me I'd lie for her because she's got me trained to do that." He wiped at his eyes and looked at Megan. "Tonight, Dad said he thought Mom was up to something. Then he started talking about how I don't look anything like him. Or her, even."

That, Megan knew, was true. Gerry was much smaller than his father, but that could have been just genetics, a throwback to another part of the Fletcher family, or to Tonya's family.

"Dad said I looked like someone else," Gerry said, "and that someone else was probably really my dad. Mom yelled at him, telling him he should never say something like that in front of me." He gnawed his lip. "I think Mom was really embarrassed and that's why she did it."

"Did what?"

"She threw a pot at him. Just picked it up from the stove and heaved it at him. He was so surprised that it hit him in the head. I couldn't believe it. Then he crossed the room and slapped her."

Megan forced herself to remain under control. From the sound of things, the Fletcher situation had dropped into complete chaos.

"Mom fell," Gerry said. "Dad drew back like he was going to hit her again. Before I knew it, I ran at him." He started crying again, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head in denial. "I hit my own dad, Mrs. Gander. I never thought I would do something like that." He sobbed brokenly. "What kind of son would do that?"