Page 11 of Yankee in the Wind

“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.

She was at a dead end. Without the death certificate she couldn’t investigate further. DC Vital Records Division had sent her an automated email confirming that they’d received her request for Thomas’s death certificate, but it was anybody’s guess how long it would take before she received it.

The USB stick she’d found in Thomas’ room had been of no help either. It contained no data.

Lilly stared out of the window. Due to Delta Labs’ location far from downtown Bethesda there were pitifully few choices when it came to restaurants. In the plaza below, it was getting busy. Lilly’s stomach growled involuntarily. Time to take a break and eat something before the line at the only two food trucks grew too long. A taco from the popular taco truck in the plaza was just what she needed now.

She grabbed her handbag, shoved her cell phone into it and walked through the lab.