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remained unaffected by the other man’s demeanor, and suspected he had earned the admiral’s begrudging respect.
    “What do you have for me?” said Barstow.
    “The motel fire was deliberately set to cover up a murder, sir,” said Hank.
    “Whose murder?”
    “It seems the body is that of Commander John McDowell.”
    The line was silent, and Hank resisted the urge to speak to fill the void. If his suspicions were correct, the admiral was already well aware of who had died in that fire.
    “What makes you believe the body is McDowell?”
    Hank told him about the ring, the safe deposit box, Julie Trueblood and the cipher. “Dental x-rays were sent in for positive identification.”
    “A lot of good that will do.”
    “Sir?”
    “All of McDowell’s service records are gone, from his basic personnel file to the data from his last assignment,” said the admiral. “Including his dental records.”
    Hank was stunned. It was no small feat to make someone’s entire military existence disappear. “What happened to them?”
    “They were deleted from our computer system, either by someone in the Navy with the clearance to do so, or by someone who hacked into that computer system.”
    “People can actually hack into the Navy’s computers?”
    “Computer gurus with exceptional code breaking knowledge and expertise,” said the admiral. He pronounced guru like it had quotation marks around it. “Someone like McDowell’s daughter.”
    “Is she that good?”
    “McDowell was one of the best cryptologists the Navy has ever seen, but the daughter was rumored to be some kind of prodigy. McDowell bragged she was better than he would ever be. Then she grew up and got herself a degree in mathematics and computer science.”
    “That’s why the Navy kept interrogating her when her father disappeared. If she sympathized with him, she was a threat to national security just like he was.”
    “Yes. And it’s why the Navy has kept tabs on her all these years, no matter what she wants to call herself.”
    Hank didn’t allow himself to consider his next words. “You knew it was McDowell in that motel.”
    “We got an anonymous tip.”
    “An anonymous tip,” Hank repeated. The sheer convenience of such a tip made it suspect.
    “A voicemail left on my line. It said we’d find McDowell and his last secret.”
    “The message from the safe deposit box.”
    “Yes. Send me a copy of it.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And you get Julie Trueblood to decipher it, Jared. If anyone can, it’s her.”
    “I’ll see what I can do.” As Hank hung up the phone, he steered his SUV onto the exit ramp. According to his GPS, he was less than half an hour from Gwen Trueblood’s house in Vermont. He had been about to head to the airport for his flight back to Jacksonville when Julie phoned and told him about the break-in.  He had offered to come out, and she had quickly accepted.
    It wasn’t like Hank to keep things from his commanding officer.
    “Sometimes, you’ve got to trust your gut,” he said to himself.
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
    As Hank stepped up to the front door of the unlit house, he had an uncomfortable feeling, like he had shown up for a party on the wrong day. He found it hard to believe no one was home after a personal invitation and a five hour drive.
    Hank heard nothing when he rang the bell, so he knocked loudly on the door for good measure. He was rewarded with the barking of dogs who quickly came to the other side of the door.
    Turning around, Hank surveyed his surroundings by the day’s last light as he waited. The white farm house had a wide front porch with turned railings and a painted wood floor. A two-story barn loomed to the side of the garage, and distant snow-covered fields were studded with split-rail fences.
    The land reminded him of his mother’s property, and Hank was acutely aware that he was just a few hours’ drive from his family’s home in the Adirondacks. He imagined his mom and siblings sitting