She looked at me, her expression shifting from anger to something desperate.

“Emerson,” she said, her voice softening in a way that made my chest tighten. “We can settle this. Family matters shouldn’t be handled by the Department of the Navy.”

“This ceased to be a family matter when you altered official deployment records to justify the conservatorship,” Vance said.

He pulled another document from the folder.

“This is the medical evaluation. It states Colonel Rogers suffered from severe cognitive decline due to a training incident.”

“She did,” Helen insisted.

“The training incident occurred two years after you filed the paperwork,” Vance said.

He leaned forward, his shadow falling across the table.

“You wrote the narrative before the injury even happened.”

Helen’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

Her fingers tightened on the strap of her handbag until her knuckles turned white.

“We know about the doctor, Helen,” I said.

She stared at the paper in front of her.

The rain outside seemed to grow louder, beating against the glass.

The door behind me opened, and another investigator entered, holding a tablet.