“Rachel, please,” he said.

“The police have already taken the report,” I said.

“We can fix this,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over one another.

“We can tell them it was a misunderstanding.”

“He pointed at the tablet.”

“Delete that footage.”

“This footage is stored on a secure military server, Daniel,” I said.

“It cannot be deleted by my hand, nor anyone else’s.”

“You’re a general,” he said, his eyes wide.

“You have access.”

“You can do whatever you want with your security files.”

“That is not how the United States Army works,” I said.

“But she’s sixteen,” he pleaded.

“If the police see this, she’ll have a record for filing a false report.”

He took another step closer, his breath smelling faintly of the stale coffee he had poured hours ago.

“It will destroy her chances at college,” he said.

“It will follow her forever, Rachel.”

“Please.”

I looked at the shattered pieces of the vase still lying on the rug near the front door.

It was a piece I had brought back from my tour in Japan, a quiet reminder of a life outside of this house.