Three yellow delivery notices were wedged into the weather stripping of the front door, and the deadbolt had been locked from the outside.

The bottom slip had warped in Tuesday’s rain, but the handle was still locked tight.

My flight from Fort Gregg-Adams touched down at 1340 hours, six days before my orders had me scheduled to return to Chesapeake.

I set my green canvas duffel bag on the porch boards and reached into my uniform pocket for the brass house key.

“Hannah?”

Evelyn came down the gravel driveway next door with a plastic watering can in her left hand.

She stopped two steps past the overgrown hydrangea bush and peered over the rim of her reading glasses.

“You weren’t supposed to be back until Monday,” she said.

“The logistics convoy cleared out of Virginia Beach early,” I said, keeping my thumb pressed flat against the cold brass cylinder.

“Where’s Derek’s car?”

Evelyn set the watering can down on the damp grass, but her hand stayed clamped on the handle.

“He backed the gray sedan down the driveway Tuesday morning with two hard suitcases and his golf bag in the trunk.”

I rubbed the smooth brass button on my left uniform cuff.

“He emailed me Sunday saying he had five days of remote training for the regional sales team.”

“He didn’t say a thing to me about remote training,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping to a tight, nervous whisper.

“He waved out the car window and said Patricia had everything handled.”

“Patricia lives an hour and a half away in Richmond,” I said.

“Well, she was here on Tuesday too,” Evelyn said, glancing back toward her own front porch before taking half a step closer.