The Lilac Code Read online

  The Lilac Code

  The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series

  Book Seven

  Becki Willis

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Note from Author

  Crack the Lilac Code & Win!

  Copyright 2018 by Becki Willis

  Clear Creek Publishing

  Editing by SJS Editorial Services

  Cover Design by dienel96. Photograph of The Columbia Inn at Peralynna is the author’s personal photograph and used with permission by the Lynns.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  The Columbia Inn of Peralynna is an actual business and used with the owners’ blessing. However, as with other real-life locations and businesses used within the story, the author has taken certain artistic liberties for purposes of fashioning this tale.

  Special Note: The character of Logan McKee is ‘on loan’ from Dr. Cynthia Lynn, who retains full rights to her creation. She generously allowed me to introduce her character prior to releasing her own series, debuting next year. In return, I am gifting the character of Sophie to her, to use as she pleases.

  Prologue

  CIA Headquarters, Langely, Virginia

  Only a handful were present. A half-dozen high-level officials and agents, gathered round the conference table behind closed doors.

  “Again, I don’t have to tell you how important this mission is.” The director of the CIA addressed the solemn group, his expression heavy. “It is imperative that we retrieve the case and crack The Lilac Code.”

  “Do we have an eye on Kalypso?” There was an edge in the general’s voice, but the four stars on his shoulder gave him that right.

  “You know as well as I do, General,” the DCI admitted, “no one ever quite ‘has their eye’ on Kalypso. The woman is a master of disguises, just as her name, ‘she who conceals,’ suggests. However, sources report her last known location as Nicaragua.”

  “I don’t like it,” the general blustered. “We know the case is coming in through the Houston ship channel. I don’t care if it is two thousand miles from Managua, that’s too close for comfort.”

  “We have our best officers on it, General, sir.” The CIA’s deputy director broke in. “We have both Kalypso and Murdoch under heavy surveillance. Our sources assure us that Kalypso has made no effort to leave her home in Managua. As for Murdoch, the moment he arrives back on US soil, we will work in tandem with the FBI to obtain the case. I can assure you, sir, we won’t take our eyes off him, or from the case.”

  Another man spoke up. “How do we know Murdoch can be trusted to deliver the case? The man is little more than a mercenary. He shows no loyalty to either side.”

  The DCI’s grim smile lacked humor. “Murdoch is loyal to the almighty dollar. Have no doubt, Lieutenant General, we’re prepared to pay top dollar for that case.”

  “He’s right, General, sir. Lieutenant General.” The CIA officer in charge of the mission spoke for the first time. The woman dipped her blond head with a respectful nod to each man, before turning to address the other man at the table. “Mr. Vice President, I will personally oversee the exchange. We’re throwing an elaborate cocktail party tomorrow evening, so that joint special operatives, key agents, and high-level security officers can be nearby, should Kalypso make a surprise appearance.”

  “I trust this party and the exchange will take place at a secure location?”

  “Absolutely, sir. We’ve used the house on numerous occasions, as it allows for excellent surveillance. We already have security teams in place and fully prepared. We have every reason to expect a smooth transaction, sir.” The operations officer spoke with confidence.

  “Excellent.”

  “That still leaves the message, itself,” the general worried. He clearly did not share the same confidence as the case officer. “Without the message, the case does us no good.”

  The negative remark didn’t sit well with the officer. The DCI shot her a silent warning before turning to the general with his best and most reassuring smile. “I understand your worry, General. You have every right to doubt the integrity of Murdoch and Kalypso. Neither can be trusted. But one thing you cannot doubt is the dedication and capability of our officers. We have our top people handling this matter. Trust me, sir.”

  He looked each man squarely in the eye as he reiterated his promise.

  “We will retrieve the message. We will keep the case from falling into Kalypso’s hands. And we will crack the Lilac Code.”

  Chapter 1

  “I have a bad feeling about this trip.”

  Madison Reynolds glanced at her friend in concern. “You okay?” she asked. “I know we were late leaving, but we’ll make our plane with plenty of time. There’s no need to be nervous.”

  “It’s not that,” Genesis Baker said, blond hair dancing as she shook her head in denial. “It’s this whole trip,” she murmured, staring out the passenger’s side window. “I have a feeling something bad is going to happen.”

  For once, their roles were reversed. Normally, Madison was the worrier and Genny was the cheerleader. “You’re just worried, leaving so close to the wedding,” she reassured her friend. “Everything will be fine. We’ll have a great girl trip and be home in plenty of time to handle those pesky last-minute details.”

  “You’re just missing that handsome fiancé of yours,” their backseat companion piped in. “If I had a man as fine as Cutter Montgomery, I’d hate to leave, too.”

  “Uh, you kind of do,” Madison reminded her grandmother. “Cutter is the spitting image of his grandfather.” She glanced at the older woman through the rearview mirror and noticed how she squirmed. “Don’t tell me you two are arguing again.”

  “The stubborn old goat wants to get married,” Granny Bert huffed. “I keep telling him that boat sailed sixty-odd years ago. I have no intentions of marrying him, then or now.”

  “I don’t know, Granny,” Genny teased. Her frown melted away and reemerged as a smile. “We could have a double wedding. Grandfather and grandson. Might be sort of cool.”

  “Until one of his ex-wives showed up and stirred a ruckus,” the older woman sniffed. It still bothered her that the man who claimed to love only her had married a half-dozen other women. “No,” she insisted, “February fourteenth is your day, girl. And this doubles as your bachelorette trip, so sit back and enjoy it.”

  The frown returned. “I’ll try. But I just have this nagging feeling that something bad is fixin’ to happen.”

  “Your uptight friend behind the wheel made me promise not to hire any male strippers,” Granny Bert complained. “With you judging that cooking contest, it doesn’t leave much time to get into trouble. So relax. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Forty minutes later, they had their first answer. A sea of taillights swam before them. In the distance, emergency vehicles worked a major wreck.

  “We�
�re never going to make it on time,” Genny wailed. Each glance at the clock told a more dismal tale.

  “Maddy, can’t you weave your way through this traffic? Turn your emergency flashers on. Someone is bound to let you through.”

  “I can’t do that, Granny Bert,” Madison chided.

  “If we get stopped, I’ll say I’m having a heart attack. At my age, they’d be hard-pressed to doubt me.” The eighty-one-year-old glared at the stand-still traffic clogging all four lanes of the interstate. “We sit here much longer,” she snorted, “and I may not have to fake a thing. I knew there was a reason I avoided coming to Houston.”

  “I thought it was because of that incident you had at the Astrodome,” Genny said, innocently enough.

  “Genesis Baker, how dare you bring that up, after all these years? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you girls a thousand times. It was all just a misunderstanding.”

  “That’s not how the news reported it,” Madison reminded her grandmother.

  Granny Bert gave another loud snort. “Fake news,” she insisted.

  While her grandmother pouted from the backseat, traffic resumed at the pace of an injured snail.

  “If you can get off up here,” Genny advised, studying the navigation app on her phone, “I think we could take a side street and wind our way over to the airport.”

  “The question is, will it be any faster?”

  Genny motioned to the sea of red. “It’s gotta be better than this, don’t you think?”

  Madison debated the issue until the last moment, but in the time it took to inch toward the exit, another six minutes had evaporated. Madison put on her blinker, nosed the car to the right, and left the gridlocked freeway. “You’ll have to guide me, Genny. I’m not familiar with this part of town.”

  Granny Bert harrumphed as she eyed the colorful graffiti decorating the street signs. “I’d be worried if you were. They don’t feature this neighborhood in Better Homes and Gardens for a reason.”

  “Too late now,” Madison muttered. She double-checked that all doors and windows were securely locked. “Let’s hope we’ll be through it soon.”

  “Stay on this street for three… no, four lights,” Genny directed. “Then make a left. We should be out of the worst of it by then. I recognize a high school in that area.”

  “Hang around here too long, and we’ll get more of an education than any of us bargained for,” Granny Bert predicted. “I’m pretty sure I just saw a drug deal going down, and that hooker back there didn’t have enough clothes on to cover the goods she’s peddling. Let’s just say if she gave a striptease, it would be a mighty short act.”

  “Granny, whatever you do, don’t make eye contact. Don’t provoke anyone.” Madison nibbled on her bottom lip. “On second thought, maybe you should just sit back and close your eyes until we get to the airport.”

  “Are you kidding me? Who needs a male stripper, when we have this fine and educational neighborhood? It’s just getting interesting.” The older woman sat up in the seat so she could better see.

  Madison drove as fast as she dared through the downtown streets. She dutifully counted off four lights, breathing a sigh of relief as she made the left-hand turn onto a larger thoroughfare.

  “How far are we from the airport now?” she asked her friend.

  Avoiding a direct response, Genny went with a brisk, “Don’t ask, just drive.”

  “That far, huh?”

  “I told you I should drive,” Granny Bert chirped. “I could’ve had us there by now.”

  “Arriving in body bags doesn’t count,” Madison replied sweetly. “And we haven’t missed that plane yet. Have faith.”

  Genny was still unusually glum. “We’re going to need it,” she murmured. “Because I’m telling you, something bad is going to happen on this trip.”

  “I’m beginning to see your point,” Madison told her friend as they rushed through the airport. “If nothing else, this trip is getting off to a memorable start.” She readjusted the bag swinging from her shoulder and navigated both rolling bags around a slow-moving pedestrian. Luggage free, her grandmother led their charge to the gate with a fast pace. Madison had difficulty keeping up.

  Out of breath from all but running the last bit of the way, Genny only nodded. “I see the gate,” she panted, nodding forward.

  “What are you two complaining about?” Granny Bert asked, not bothering to slow down as she flung the words over her shoulder. “I got us through that security line, lickety split. Without my brilliant act back there, we’d still be standing in line.”

  Her grandmother had a point. After seeing the outrageous line snaking backward from the security checkpoint, Granny Bert grabbed a wheelchair, plopped down into it, and began fanning herself. A few moans and whimpers later, the three of them were whisked to the front of the line, given priority passage through screening, and even garnered a ride with airport-courtesy transport. The driver offered to request another chair for Granny at the end of the line, but she declined. Slipping him a wink and a folded bill, she convinced him to call the gate and insist they hold the plane for them. She then jumped off the cart and led their small entourage the remainder of the way.

  Luckily for them, the gate was just around the corner.

  A fuzzy voice rattled from the public announcement system. “Would Madison Reynolds, Genesis Baker, and Bertha Cessna report immediately to Gate 8B. 8B.”

  Madison was mortified. “I can’t believe they’re calling our names on the airport speaker!”

  “I can’t believe we made it!” Genny panted.

  Granny Bert greeted the attendant with a broad smile and motioned upward. “That’s us. They’re holding the door for us.”

  “I’m afraid it’s a full flight and you’ll have to take whatever seat is available,” the attendant said. She eyed their carry-on luggage with a frown. “You may have to check your luggage. I’m sure the overhead bins are full by now.”

  “It’s only three pieces,” Madison assured her. “These bags are our personal items.”

  That earned her a prim, “There’s a limit to one per passenger, and they all must fit securely under the seat.”

  “They do,” Madison said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “And this one’s hers.”

  “Has all my medicine in it,” Granny Bert added, allowing her shoulders to sag. Her voice didn’t sound nearly as strong as it had moments before. She patted her chest, struggling to pull in a deep breath. “I hope I don’t have to go all the way to the back of the plane. I’m all tuckered out. Who would think an airport would run out of wheelchairs?”

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” the attendant asked. She was suddenly full of concern, particularly at the implication that the airport had failed one of its passengers.

  The wizened old woman managed a weak nod. “I will be, as soon as I get on that plane. There’s an operation waiting for me in Baltimore.”

  “I’ll request a front seat,” the woman said, reaching for her two-way radio.

  “Bless your heart, child.” Granny Bert offered a weak smile as she shuffled ahead. “Give me your hand, Maddy, and help your old granny to the plane.”

  When they were out of earshot, Madison hissed, “Granny, you have to stop pulling this con! There’s no operation waiting for you, and you know it!”

  “Sure there is,” she grinned. “Operation Par-tay.”

  “Granny!”

  “Can I help it if she drew the wrong conclusions? I never once mentioned a surgical procedure.”

  Madison blew out an exasperated sigh and muttered beneath her breath. “What am I going to do with you?”

  They stepped onto the crowded plane, where two attendants waited to assist Granny Bert. A vacant seat had mysteriously appeared in the second row, thanks to a generous passenger.

  “I’m sorry, you ladies won’t be able to sit with her,” one of the attendants said. “I believe there’s one seat at the rear of the plane and another on row 35.”
>
  “Leave the bag with my medicine,” Granny Bert requested weakly. Having planned to sit together on the open-seating flight, their snacks were compiled into one bag. The old woman’s grip was amazingly strong as she snagged it from Maddy’s hand.

  “You ladies take a seat. I’ll find a place for your luggage,” the male attendant offered.

  Madison relinquished their bags and squeezed past him, headed for the back. She avoided direct eye contact with the other passengers, afraid she would see contempt in their faces. Their late arrival threw the flight off its tight schedule, and until they were seated, and their luggage stowed, the plane was still grounded.

  Halfway down the aisle, she heard a whispered rustle and dared a glance to her left. The animated trio smiled at her and waved. No doubt, they recognized her from the reality television series Home Again. HOME TV faithfully reran episodes of the popular makeover show, hoping to entice Madison into doing another season, but she steadfastly refused. Having her personal life broadcast on national television had been a necessary evil, but with the remodel complete, she insisted her televisions days were behind her.

  Madison smiled at the mini fan club and moved along, encouraged to see that not everyone on the flight was hostile.

  She made the mistake of eye contact with a man behind them. His stoic face was a study in impatience. Icy gray eyes bore into hers, conveying his extreme displeasure. He had the look of a man always in motion, wound tight to react fast. Despite the strap at his waist, he seemed perched on the edge of his seat, ready for action.

  Oops, Madison thought, averting her eyes. Guess we made him late.

  At least the woman two rows behind him looked more amiable. Her face was best described as impassive, but it was a welcomed change from the beady-eyed man’s open hostility.

  Leaving the first available spot for her friend, Madison trudged to the rear of the plane. She squeezed into the middle seat, squashed between two very overweight passengers. The good news, she decided, was that if the plane experienced turbulence, she had plenty of cushion.