“She’s with my mother,” he said.

“But she’s not at the house.”

“They’re moving her to the border.”

“The base is compromised.”

“Who is it?” I asked, leaning forward against the zip-ties.

“Who is the officer in the uniform?”

Daniel looked toward the heavy metal door of the shed.

The sound of footsteps approached from the outside.

The iron bolt slid back with a loud screech.

The door swung open, revealing the silhouette of a tall man.

He stepped into the lantern light, shaking the rain from his military cap.

He looked down at me with a calm, practiced smile.

“You should have left the trust alone, Captain,” he said.

The light illuminated his rank insignia on his collar.

It was the very officer who had signed my deployment orders.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black device.

He pressed a button, and the screen lit up with a live video feed of a small room.

In the center of the room sat a wooden crib.

My daughter was inside, sleeping peacefully under the pink blanket.

“She is safe for now,” the officer said.