“You signed the occupancy agreement,” I said. “The deed is held by the Department of the Army under my housing allowance exception.”

He took a step backward, his hand reaching out to grip the banister for support.

“That’s not possible,” he whispered. “You’re an analyst. You work in logistics.”

“I run the logistics command for the entire Western Sector, Daniel.”

He shook his head, his eyes darting to Vance, who stood motionless by the door.

“This is a mistake,” Daniel said, his voice rising as he pulled his phone out again. “I’m calling the headquarters. I’m calling your supervisor.”

“Go ahead,” I said.

He began dialing, his thumb hitting the screen repeatedly as he searched for the number of the civilian administrative office he had called once before when we bought our first car.

He pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear.

I watched him listen to the automated menu.

“I need to speak to the officer in charge of Rachel Mercer’s department,” Daniel said into the receiver, his voice trembling. “I’m her husband.”