The lobby clock over the information desk read 7:15, and the volunteer behind it already had my name on a visitor slip before I said a word.

“Captain Sinclair.” She slid it across the counter.

“Dr.

Higgins is coming down for you himself.”

I set my duffel against the wall and picked up the slip.

Someone had written my full name in blue pen with a small squiggle underneath, the way a nurse marks a chart.

Dust from the transport was still in the seams of my boots.

I had come straight off the airfield with one bag and no sleep, and the lobby lights were doing me no favors.

“Captain Sinclair.” He came through the secure doors with his badge already clipped to his collar and his hand out.

“Sam Higgins.

I’m your wife’s physician.”

“How is she?”

“I put your name on that list myself when the transport called.” He held the door with his shoulder.

“Come with me.

There are things I’d rather say where the elevators are loud.”

“I’d rather see her.”

“Five minutes buys you a better visit.” He walked me past the desk into the long corridor that smelled of antiseptic and old coffee.

“She’s stable.