Chapter 11 - THE DEATH CERTIFICATE
My father's death certificate had always seemed ordinary.
Heart failure.
Natural causes.
No investigation.
No suspicious circumstances.
No reason to question it.
That changed within an hour.
A military investigator retrieved the original file.
The certificate had been signed by a military physician.
Dr. Samuel Reeves.
I recognized the name.
He had been stationed at the Pentagon.
He had also died three years ago.
I requested the medical report.
There was a discrepancy.
The death certificate listed my father as having died at home.
But the medical report listed the location as—
The Pentagon.
I stared at the document.
“Someone changed the record.”
The investigator nodded.
“Looks that way.”
“Who?”
“We're tracing it.”
I looked at General Whitaker.
He hadn't said a word.
I turned toward him.
“Did you know?”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
My anger exploded.
“You knew?”
“I knew the official report was wrong.”
“You let me believe my father died at home.”
“I was protecting you.”
“Stop saying that!”
My voice echoed through the room.
“You've all been protecting me by lying to me!”
Whitaker didn't argue.
That made it worse.
“What happened that night?”
He sat.
“Your father came to the Pentagon.”
“Why?”
“He had evidence.”
“Against whom?”
“The network.”
“And then?”
“He met someone.”
“Who?”
“Evelyn.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then what?”
“Your father left the meeting.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“What happened afterward?”
Whitaker looked down.
“He entered a restricted corridor.”
“And?”
“He never came out.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who was there?”
“Three people.”
“Names.”
Whitaker hesitated.
“Your father.”
“Evelyn.”
“And?”
He looked at me.
“Me.”
Silence.
I stared at him.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know who killed him.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
“I wasn't in the room.”
“Then where were you?”
“Outside.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to get inside.”
“Why couldn't you?”
Whitaker's voice broke.
“Because the door was locked from the inside.”
I stared.
“And when it opened?”
“Your father was already dead.”
“How?”
“Poison.”
The word hung in the air.
“Who had access?”
“Evelyn.”
“Marcus?”
“No.”
“You?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Whitaker looked at the file.
“The person who entered the corridor after you.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
He slid a photograph across the table.
I recognized the man immediately.
My breath stopped.
Ryan.
The photograph was dated eight years earlier.
Ryan was standing outside the restricted corridor.
He was younger.
Clean-shaven.
And completely different from the man I had married.
I looked at Whitaker.
“He was there?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“We don't know.”
I stared at the photograph.
Ryan had told me he didn't know my father was involved.
He had lied.
Again.
But then I noticed the timestamp.
Ryan had been there four hours before my father died.
He wasn't involved in the death.
He had been there for something else.
“What was he doing?”
Whitaker shook his head.
“We never found out.”
I picked up the photograph.
“Where did you get this?”
“Security archive.”
“Why wasn't it in the original investigation?”
“Because someone removed it.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
I laughed.
It was becoming absurd.
Everyone knew something.
Nobody knew everything.
And somehow I was expected to put the pieces together.
Then my phone rang.
Ryan.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
His voice was terrified.
“I need you to listen.”
“What?”
“I know who was with your father.”
“I know you were there.”
Silence.
“How?”
“I have the photograph.”
Ryan breathed heavily.
“I didn't go there to hurt him.”
“Why did you go?”
“I was looking for something.”
“What?”
“The necklace.”
My heart stopped.
“You knew about it?”
“Yes.”
“Who sent you?”
Ryan whispered:
“Your father.”
I couldn't speak.
“What?”
“He contacted me before he died.”
“Why?”
“He wanted me to protect you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Protect me?”
“Yes.”
“By spying on me?”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“Then why did you work with Northbridge?”
“Because they threatened you.”
I closed my eyes.
Ryan continued.
“I made terrible choices.”
“Yes.”
“I thought if I cooperated, they'd leave you alone.”
“They didn't.”
“No.”
He began crying.
“They wanted the necklace.”
“Where is it?”
“With me.”
I froze.
“Ryan.”
“I never gave it to them.”
“Where are you?”
“I'm coming to you.”
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't trust you.”
He whispered:
“You should.”
Then the line went dead.
I looked at Whitaker.
“Where is he?”
“We're trying to locate him.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I stood.
“I'm going to find him first.”
Because Ryan had one thing the enemy needed.
My father's necklace.
May you like
And if he was telling the truth—
He might also be the only person left alive who knew what really happened eight years ago.
