Then I walked them through it, one page at a time.

“These are duplicate carbons from the red hardbound gate logbook, kept by Private Dewitt under my standing order from his first week on patrol.” I laid the sheets out in a fan.

“Every entry on this clipboard needs a matching stamp or the barrier stays down.

These three didn’t have one.”

Harmon’s pen came up and then went back down.

“August ninth,” I said.