Amy Dawson Robertson - Scapegoat by Amy Dawson Robertson

Author:Amy Dawson Robertson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781594932625
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2011-12-03T19:24:01+00:00

Chapter twenty-five

Devils Lake, North Dakota

William Keller rinsed the last of the shaving cream off his chin. He stared for a moment at his reflection and compared his strong features with the slighter ones of his father in the creased black-and-white photograph he kept wedged into the corner of the medicine chest mirror. There was something in the shape of the lips and in the deep-set eyes. Yes, he was his father’s son.

Keller checked his watch. A few minutes after 10:30 a.m. The woman journalist was supposed to get here at eleven. He had misgivings about talking to her. Lately, he had misgivings about a lot of things. Since he’d begun the Dakota Militiamen three years ago, he’d been so deep inside the little world he’d created he’d felt neither need nor desire to interact with the larger world. The phone call from Hannah Marcus had reminded him that real people existed outside of his dominion—real people with their own unique opinions instead of the monolithic mindset he usually attributed to outsiders. It had set him to thinking. Was he doing the right thing?

Keller sat down heavily on the edge of the old claw-footed tub and pulled the worn wallet from his back pocket. The letter his mother had given him on his sixteenth birthday lived in one of the transparent sleeves. He removed it gingerly and unfolded it. He had read it so many times he could recite it by heart. But handling the now yellowed notepaper made him feel nearer to the man he’d never known. As he read, his lips silently mouthed the words that were his mantra.

Dear son,

Though your mother and I have not had a chance to discuss it, I’d like you to be called William after your great-grandfather.

Will, I fear I may never meet you. My work for this great country of ours may require that I make a sacrifice I am both loath and honored to give.

Remember, my dear son, that I am with you. And remember always,

Honor your mother,

Honor your country,

And tell no lies.

Your father, Donald Keller.

Keller remembered how keenly he’d felt the absence of a father. He’d needed a strong guiding hand to help him navigate the choppy waters of adolescence. His mother, silent and withdrawn, only seemed to flit about in the shadows of the dark and dreary house. By the time he was eight years old, he was already taking care of most of his own needs—heating cans of Campbell’s soup for his meals and using the big washer and dryer to clean his clothes.

After she’d given him the letter, his mother had told him that his father had been an undercover CIA officer and had died in the line of duty. And that the government had thrown him over to shield its involvement in his assignment. From that day forward, Will felt ensnared in a wet, clinging net. How could he honor his country while despising its duplicitous government? He never appealed to the CIA for confirmation or more

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