Yankee in the wind, p.3
Yankee in the Wind, page 3
Lilly entered the Victorian building that housed Peaceful Rest through the double door that led into a large foyer. To her left she saw a large room, where dozens of people dressed in dark colors were assembled. She spotted a coffin with flowers draped over it. Solemn music came from the room.
Lilly looked around, when a man in a dark suit approached her.
“Good afternoon, Ma’am, so sorry for your loss,” he said and reached for her hand. “Please take a seat inside. We’ll be starting in a moment.”
“Uhm, I, uhm, I’m not here for the funeral,” she said. “I wanted to speak to somebody in the office.”
“Oh, my mistake,” the man said quickly and pointed to a corridor. “The office is the last door on the right.”
Lilly nodded a thanks, then followed the direction he’d indicated and found the office. She knocked and entered. A young woman sat behind a very clean and tidy desk, her attire subdued, her hair tied back, her make-up subtle.
“Hi,” Lilly said. “I wonder whether you can help me.”
The woman jumped up from her seat and walked around the desk. “Of course, Ma’am. I’m Caroline McDermott.” She shook Lilly’s hand. “Please do take a seat.”
“Thank you, but it’s just a quick inquiry,” Lilly said. “My cousin was cremated here, and I wanted to get some more information about it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Was your family not satisfied with our services? If there’s anything that was not—”
“No, no, that’s not it,” Lilly interrupted. “I just wanted to find out who requested the cremation. You see, I was out of the country when he died, and my uncle, uh, the father of the deceased has dementia… so…”
“No problem. What’s your cousin’s name?”
“Thomas Reed.”
Ms. McDermott sat down behind her desk again and tapped something on her keyboard. A moment later, she looked at Lilly. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but there’s no record of a Thomas Reed being cremated here. Are you sure you have the right funeral home?”
“I’m certain.” She dug into her handbag and pulled out the cremation certificate. “I found this in my uncle’s papers to confirm that Thomas was cremated here.”
“May I?”
Lilly handed her the certificate, and Ms. McDermott looked at it.
“Well, that’s definitely our name and the address is correct too, but”—she cast Lilly a regretful look—“this isn’t even our stationary. The signature is wrong too. We never issued this certificate.”
Stunned, Lilly stared at her. “Are you sure?”
“One-hundred-percent.” Ms. McDermott pointed to the document. “This is a family business. There are only two people in this office who sign cremation certificates, and I’m one of them. The other is my father. This document is a fake. I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
Speechless, Lilly nodded a thanks to Caroline McDermott and left the office. Why had somebody faked a cremation certificate? What would be the point? Something was fishy. What about Thomas’s death was so important that somebody had to fake a cremation certificate?
What were they trying to hide?
5
To Jack’s surprise, he found Thomas Reed’s whereabouts two days after he’d met with Ace and Fox at Sheppard’s old house. Jack stared at the plaque on the wall of urns at Shaded Pine Cemetery, a small cemetery in the outskirts of Washington D.C. Thomas was dead. Judging by the date of his death, Thomas had managed to hide from his enemies for over three years. They’d caught up with him two months ago.
Oh, Thomas, Jack thought, why couldn’t you hold out for another two months?
Why had Thomas not been able to stay hidden? How had they finally caught up with him? Too many questions bounced around in Jack’s mind as he looked at the stone behind which Thomas’s ashes were held. Ashes… At the word a memory surfaced. Thomas had had a phobia stemming from his mother’s death: fire. So why had he been cremated? It made no sense. They’d often talked about it when they were deployed to conflict zones around the world. Thomas had made him swear that should he be killed in action, he would to be buried, not burned.
Was this a sign that something wasn’t right? Had Thomas staged his death to get his enemies off his back? Had he meant to leave a message to his friends, to Jack in particular, by pretending he was cremated? It was odd to say the least, and worth investigating.
Jack knew exactly where to start: with Thomas’s father. If anybody knew the truth about Thomas’s death, it would be William Reed—if he was still alive.
An hour later, Jack found himself in front of an assisted living facility. He checked the address that he’d found online. No, there was no doubt: Will Reed now lived in an old folk’s home. This too was a surprise. After all, Thomas’s father, a fierce self-sufficient man, had sworn years ago that they would have to carry him out of his house in a box. What had made him agree to moving into an eldercare facility?
Jack entered the one-story building. Rather than feeling like a hospital, the interior had a cheerful, airy atmosphere. Soft music played in the foyer, and a reception desk that looked like it belonged in a spa was manned by a friendly young man.
“Welcome to Sunset Living, I’m Robbie. How may I help you?”
“Good morning,” Jack said. “I’m here to visit an old family friend, Mr. William Reed.”
“Ah yes, one of our new residents.” Robbie smiled and pointed to a clipboard on the desk. “I’ll have you sign in, and I’ll need to see your ID.”
Jack picked up the pen, and wrote a fake name on the form, then fished out the appropriate fake driver’s license and handed it to the employee.
Robbie took a look at it, compared it to the name Jack had written down, and handed it back. “Here you go, Mr. Duke. I’ll show you to Mr. Reed’s suite.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Robbie stood up and motioned to one of the two corridors. Jack followed him.
“There’ll be a mid-morning snack for the residents in a few minutes, and you’re very welcome to join Mr. Reed for it.”
“Thank you.”
“He doesn’t get many visitors, you know. You said you’re an old family friend,” Robbie fished, sounding just a little overeager to pump him for information.
But maybe Jack was just a little paranoid. Having lived in hiding for more than three years could do that to any man.
“Yeah, my father and Mr. Reed were friends,” Jack lied.
“Oh, that’s lovely. Maybe you can bring your father on your next visit.”
Jack forced a friendly smile. “I’m afraid my old man died recently.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Robbie stopped in front of a door. “Here we are.” He knocked, then opened the door and stepped inside. “Mr. Reed, you have a visitor.”
Jack entered the room behind Robbie.
“It’s Mr. Duke for you,” Robbie said.
Jack’s eyes fell on the old man sitting in an armchair looking out the window as if he hadn’t even heard them. He looked frail, his shoulders hunched forward, his arms slack on his lap.
“I don’t know any Duke,” Reed suddenly said.
Shit! Of course, Reed wouldn’t know him under this fake name—or his new face. “Uh, still playing the old game of pretending not to know me.”
Robbie looked at Jack and moved a step closer, and Jack was ready to do whatever was necessary should Robbie not believe him and cause problems.
“Some days he’s better than others,” Robbie said in a low voice. “But his dementia seems to get worse with each day.”
“Dementia?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? Yes, unfortunately, it’s progressing at a really fast rate.” Robbie pointed to Reed. “Just sit with him and talk to him. Many of our Alzheimer’s patients seem to remember the distant past much better than what they had for breakfast. I’ll leave you alone.”
Jack nodded, and Robbie left the room and closed the door behind him.
Jack glanced around. The room was comfortably furnished with a bed, bedside table, a sofa with two armchairs, and a coffee table. There was a large built-in closet and a private bathroom. A few family pictures hung on the walls.
“Mr. Reed,” Jack said and approached Thomas’s father. “I’m Thomas’s friend from the army.”
Reed turned his head to glance at him. No recognition lit up in his eyes, and a moment later, he turned his head back to look out of the window.
“I’m Jack. Jack Porter.”
“I knew a Jack once,” Reed suddenly said. “I think… my brother… he was a soldier.”
Jack sighed. He knew that Reed had had one brother and one sister. But his brother’s name hadn’t been John or Jack, but Michael. And he’d been a dentist, not a soldier. It was clear that Reed’s dementia was quite advanced. Even if Thomas had staged his death and confided in his father, it was unlikely that Reed would be able to provide any information about it.
Maybe if Jack played along, he could trigger some memories in the old man. “Yes, your brother. Remember me? I came back from fighting a war.”
A smile spread on Reed’s face. “The steak was burned. You left it on the fire too long.”
“At the last BBQ, right?” Jack said. There was a kernel of truth in the words Reed had spoken. At the Reed family BBQ Jack had been invited to just before he’d joined the CIA, there had been a little incident while Jack had manned the grill.
“I was supposed to watch that the flames weren’t going too high.” But he’d been distracted by a beautiful girl who’d arrived. He’d recognized her immediately, although he’d never met her before. Thomas had shared many pictures and stories while on deployment making Jack feel like he already knew her. “Your niece was there.”
“Niece?” It seemed as if he didn’t understand the word.
“Lilly,” Jack helped.
“Lilly. A beautiful flower. My garden… all the flowers are blooming.”
Jack swallowed down his disappointment. Reed wouldn’t be able to tell him anything useful. It was sad to see him like this. No wonder he was living in an assisted living facility now. He couldn’t live alone any longer. He needed full-time care.
Still, Jack had to give it one more try.
“Thomas is gone. Do you know where he went?”
Suddenly Reed turned his head toward Jack and locked eyes with him. “Thomas?” A tear rolled down one cheek. “They got him.”
“Who?”
“They always get them in the end. They’re everywhere.” Reed’s eyes shot to the door. “Even here. They’re here in my house… I should have known… He shouldn’t have come.”
“Thomas? Thomas shouldn’t have come?”
“She lied to me. It was her.”
“Who? Who lied to you?”
“I have to warn his friends. They’re coming for all of them.”
“Thomas’s friends? You have to warn Thomas’s friends?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Jack. I’m Thomas’s friend.”
Reed shook his head. “The government sent you. The government sent her. They tricked me. And Thomas paid for it. They found him because of me.”
He suddenly started rocking forward in his chair, visibly distraught. Jack reached for his hand and squeezed it.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Reed. I’m sorry that Thomas is gone.” Despite the incoherent things Reed was saying, his emotions were genuine, and they hinted at the truth: that Thomas was really dead.
“It’s my fault.” He reached for a photo that stood on the windowsill. “My fault.”
Jack looked at the photo. It had been taken on the day of the BBQ, almost seven years ago. The photo pictured Reed, his son Thomas, his niece Lilly, and another man whose name Jack couldn’t remember. The morning after that picture had been taken, Jack had received news to report to the CIA immediately. Henry Sheppard had made him an offer to join his top-secret Stargate program, but it had come with a condition: to leave his previous life behind and cut all ties with friends and family immediately.
Jack now focused his eyes on Lilly in the photo. She’d been the only thing he’d regretted leaving behind, because the night they’d spent in each other’s arms after the BBQ, had ignited a need in him that he’d never been able to satisfy. The need to make Lilly his. But all they’d had was one night.
He shook his head. He wasn’t one for daydreaming. He didn’t have that luxury.
“Mr. Reed, I—”
Jack didn’t finish the sentence. In fact, he didn’t even know what he’d wanted to say to Reed, because suddenly everything blurred around him. A scene played out in front of his eyes. He knew what it was: a premonition. He had the gift of foresight, just like his fellow Stargate agents. It was the very reason why he and the other precognitive agents were being hunted.
He recognized Lilly immediately. She hadn’t changed much in the seven years since their night together. If anything, she’d grown more beautiful. Her blond hair was the color of wheat. She wore it a little shorter now than seven years ago, but it still touched her shoulders, the soft curls framing her delicate face. Her lips were of a rich red, though he could tell that she wasn’t wearing a lipstick. Her eyes were still the same light grey accentuated by long lashes.
Lilly wore a white coat, the kind medical personnel wore. When he’d met her, she’d already been in her third year of residency at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. Thomas had been so proud of her. Jack concentrated on the vision playing out in front of his inner eye. Lilly walked across a courtyard to a food truck. She ordered food and paid for it, then moved to the side and sat down on a bench, while waiting for her order to be prepared. Jack was able to read the name on the truck: Jose’s Enormes Tacos. At the truck, more medical personnel stood in line to place their orders. Meanwhile, Lilly’s cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her handbag and answered it.
“Hello?” She paused for a moment. Then she said again, “Hello?” A few seconds later she shrugged and put the phone back into her bag.
A few moments passed until somebody from the food truck called out Lilly’s name. “Lilly, three beef tacos.”
Lilly jumped up and walked toward the truck. That’s when Jack saw it: a red dot on Lilly’s forehead. There was no sound when the bullet struck. Lilly collapsed on the spot. Jack tried to force the vision to show him where the sniper had been hiding, but the scene before his eyes was already blurring.
A moment later, he was looking at Reed again. The old man stared at him. “Thomas, son?”
“I love you, Dad,” Jack replied, knowing the old man needed to hear the words even though he wasn’t Thomas. “I have to go.”
“Don’t let them win.”
He wouldn’t. Because now things had gotten even more personal. Lilly was in danger, and Jack would move heaven and earth to save her from the unknown assassin.
6
Lilly stood in her office and looked out of the window to the plaza below. There were a couple of food trucks that had arrived around ten a.m., preparing for the lunch crowd. There were plenty of benches and trees to provide shade for the many office and lab workers who liked to enjoy their lunch al fresco. Delta Labs had also commissioned several pieces of art from local sculptors to make the area look less sterile, less like another dull office park at the outskirts of Bethesda.
Lilly had left several more messages for Henry Sheppard from the CIA after her visit to the funeral home two days earlier. He still hadn’t called her back. But she wouldn’t give up so easily. She picked up her cell phone and redialed Sheppard’s number. Again, she only reached his voicemail.
“Mr. Sheppard. This is Lilly Davis again. Like I said yesterday, and the day before, the cremation certificate for Thomas Reed was a fake. The funeral home confirmed it. I find this highly suspicious, and since you seem to be the only person who has information about my cousin’s death, I need to talk to you. Something isn’t right, or why would somebody forge the paperwork? You have my number.”
She disconnected the call. A moment later, her cell phone rang.
“Yes?”
“This is Peter Lancaster from Shaded Pine Cemetery. Am I speaking to Ms. Davis?” the man at the other end of the line said.
“Yes, thank you for calling back.” The previous afternoon she’d left a message at the cemetery where Thomas had been buried.
“No problem. I looked into your query about your cousin, Thomas Reed. I’m afraid there isn’t much. He was cremated at a different facility, and the ashes and the cremation certificate were transferred to us.”
“Do you know who sent the ashes to you?”
“Hmm. The document for transfer was signed by William Reed. I believe that’s the father of the deceased.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. He was also the one who purchased the space in our urn wall and the annual maintenance plan.”
“In person?”
“I’m not sure. Many of our older customers call rather than visit us personally, you know. But the document was signed by Mr. Reed.”
“Could you perhaps text me a photo of the document?”
“Of course. I’ll send it over in a minute. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, thank you very much.”
A few seconds after she disconnected the call, her phone chimed, announcing the arrival of a text message. She clicked on the photo and zoomed in so she could read the signature. At first glance, it looked like her uncle’s but she knew it couldn’t be his. A year ago, Will Reed’s hands had started to tremble, and the doctors believed that he was developing Parkinson’s. Her uncle could have never signed the document in such a neat way. His shaking hands would have prevented it. Somebody had forged his signature, and judging by the striking similarity to his signature before he’d developed Parkinson’s, Lilly guessed that somebody had copied it from another legitimate document and pasted it onto the one Shaded Pine Cemetery had received.
