Vance leaned in close enough that only I could hear.

“Don’t get comfortable at Gate Six.”

I turned that over and had no place to put it.

When the board came back, Vance opened her black leather binder.

“This is a certified copy,” she said, “pulled from the Fort Hood administrative archive.

Nineteen ninety-six.

Discharge order for an enlisted clerk named Vivian Cole.”

Vivian Harmon’s fingers found the thin gold chain at her wrist and stopped moving.