into the tactical folder I normally used for deployment briefings.
Appropriate.
Upstairs, they still thought this was about a bedroom.
About me being difficult.
It wasn’t.
This was evidence.
And I knew where evidence belonged.
I packed the laptop and went upstairs.
Before reaching the top, I smelled barbecue.
Then came laughter and clinking glasses.
I opened the door.
They were hosting a party in my backyard.
String lights.
Folding tables.
A full barbecue spread.
Officers everywhere.
Captains.
A major I recognized.
Even a lieutenant colonel near the cooler.
I
