Page 9 of Yankee in the Wind

“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.”