He opened his mouth to answer, but I turned and walked toward the visitor lodging before he could say another word.

By seven o’clock, the lobby of the off-base hotel was full of visiting parents carrying six-dollar cups of coffee.

Eleanor was standing at the reception counter in a cream blazer, her fingers smoothing her lapels in tight, rhythmic strokes.

Arthur stood three steps behind her near the potted palm, checking his pocket watch twice in less than ten seconds before putting it away.

“We need to talk in private, Sarah,” Eleanor said the moment I crossed the marble floor.