“In fact, you have forty-eight hours to vacate the quarters,” I added.

“Forty-eight hours?” my mother gasped.

“That’s standard procedure when an officer is suspended pending a court-martial,” I said.

“The quarters belong to the active duty staff,” I added.

“And Andrew is no longer on active duty status as of this afternoon,” I said.

“He is being held in the brig at Fort Sam Houston,” I added.

My father looked up, his eyes hollow.

“The brig?” he asked.

“Yes, Dad,” I said.

“They moved him twenty minutes ago,” I added.

“He was taken out through the back gate to avoid the press,” I said.

“But the local news already has the tip,” I added.

A car door slammed outside.

We all looked out the window.

A white television van with a large satellite dish on top was parking just outside the main gate.

Two reporters were setting up a tripod on the gravel shoulder.

“They’re here,” Claire whispered.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, looking like a frightened child.

“They’re going to put my face on the news,” she said.