“Eleanor, leave your box on the porch if you’re going to stand around out here,” Julian called over the idling purr of his engine.

“The neighbors will think we locked you out.”

“The neighbors are still asleep,” I said without turning around.

I got to the edge of the street and stopped next to the tall white mailbox David had painted the summer before he deployed.

My right hand rested on the cold metal handle of the command briefcase.

Under my coat, the small gray terminal gave a single short, silent buzz against my waist.

Julian shifted the car into park, the transmission clicking loudly in the still morning air.