The familiar weight of my rank and my duty settled over me.

“Dr. Reeves, how many exits do you have that don’t go through the main lobby?” I asked.

“Just the loading dock and the laundry chute,” he said.

“The loading dock has a keycard scanner, but it’s monitored by the main security desk.”

“I can handle the security desk,” I said.

I pulled my cell phone from my belt holster.

I didn’t call local law enforcement; the Prescotts owned them.

I dialed the direct line to the garrison commander at Fort Liberty.

“Major Vance,” I said when the call connected. “This is Colonel Hart.”

“Colonel,” Vance’s crisp voice came through the speaker. “What can I do for you?”

“I need an ambulance and a military police escort dispatched to Mercy General Hospital immediately,” I said.

“Under what authorization, ma’am?” Vance asked.

“Active duty family member in critical danger,” I said. “We are extracting my daughter to the Womack Army Medical Center on base.”

“Understood, Colonel,” Vance said. “We’ll have a unit on the road in five minutes.”