I looked out the window at the soldiers marching in formation on the grass below.

They wanted to lock me in a legal room and strip away my rank so I would be powerless to protect my daughter.

“Who is the investigating officer?” I asked.

“Lieutenant Colonel Harris,” Vance said. “He is thorough, and he is loyal to the letter of the law.”

“When does the formal inquiry begin?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning at 0900,” he said. “Until then, you are restricted to the local area, and you are not to contact any member of the Prescott family or the medical staff at Mercy General.”

“Understood,” I said.

“Hand over your military ID and your government-issued phone, Colonel,” Vance said, extending his hand.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the plastic card and the black phone, and placed them on his desk.

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the distant sound of a bugle from the parade grounds.

“You’re a good officer, Sarah,” Vance said quietly. “Don’t destroy your life over this.”