Her face drained of what little color it had left.

The silence returned, heavy and suffocating.

The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to grow louder.

My mother looked from Claire to me, her expression torn.

“Is she in trouble, Emily?” my mother asked. “Please tell me she isn’t going to jail.”

“That depends on what the audit finds,” I said.

“You have to help her,” my father pleaded. “You have the authority now. You are the commander.”

“I am the commander of this installation, Father,” I said. “Not a shield for criminals.”

“She is your sister,” my mother whispered.

“And I am an officer of the United States Army,” I replied. “My oath comes first.”

Claire sank back into the chair, burying her face in her hands.

Her shoulders shook with silent, desperate sobs.

The reality of her situation was beginning to settle in.

The social standing she had spent years building on this base was gone in an instant.

The country club luncheons, the front-row seats at the ceremonies, the deference from junior officers’ spouses.

It was all vanishing.