Through the window, we could see the central parade ground.

The midday sun was baking the grass into a dull yellowish brown.

A black government SUV was parked directly in front of Andrew’s office building across the quad.

Two men in civilian suits were carrying cardboard boxes down the steps.

Claire walked straight to the window and pressed her forehead against the glass.

“They’re taking his things,” she said.

Her breath fogged the pane.

“They’re taking everything,” she whispered.

My mother sat down at the table, her hands trembling as she adjusted her pearl necklace.

“There must be a lawyer we can call,” my mother said.

“Someone from the city,” she added.

“Someone who doesn’t answer to this base,” my mother said.

My father sat next to her, his shoulders slumped.

“This is a military matter, Eleanor,” he said quietly.

“A civilian lawyer can’t stop a federal warrant on an active post,” he added.

He looked older than he had that morning.

The sharp line of his jaw had gone soft.

“But the shame of it,” my mother said, her voice rising.