“And several folders from the discretionary fund.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” the General said.

“Stand by outside.”

“Do not let anyone else into this corridor.”

“Understood, sir,” the officer said.

He stepped back and closed the heavy oak door.

The click of the latch sounded like a pistol shot in the quiet room.

The General walked over to the window.

He looked out at the gray Texas sky, his hands clasped behind his back.

“The game is over, Claire,” the General said without turning around.

“Your husband is facing felony charges under the Uniform Code of Military Justice.”

“And if those files contain what I think they do, it is federal theft.”

Claire did not move.

My mother reached out to touch Claire’s shoulder, but my father stepped between them.

“Don’t, Helen,” my father said to my mother.

“Let her speak.”

“She has been speaking for Andrew for five years,” my father said.

“Now she can speak for herself.”

My mother shrank back, her face pale and lined with sudden age.

“Claire,” I said, stepping closer to the desk.

“You knew he was taking my housing allowance.”