“Take a look at the dates on those documents.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You’re a Colonel, but you’re not a lawyer,” Gregory said.

He turned and walked back toward the terrace stairs.

“Have fun with your little book,” he said over his shoulder.

I didn’t answer him.

I grabbed Eleanor’s hand and pulled her toward my sedan.

I unlocked the doors and we climbed inside.

My hands shook as I shoved the key into the ignition.

The engine roared to life.

I backed out of the driveway, the headlights sweeping across the front of the dark mansion.

Gregory was still standing on the gravel, watching us with that cold, knowing smile.

We drove out of the estate gates and onto the dark coastal highway.

Eleanor was crying quietly in the passenger seat, staring out at the ocean.

“Are you okay?” I asked, staring at the road ahead.

“I can’t go back there,” she said.

“You’re not going back,” I said. “We’re going to my quarters at the base.”

The drive to the military installation took forty minutes.

Neither of us spoke.