“I heard you finally graced us with your presence, soldier boy.” Her voice dripped aristocratic amusement. “Listen closely. My boys are protected. My husband runs this county.

He owns the police force, and he bought the courthouse a decade ago. Take the girl when she’s discharged, and be grateful we’re letting you leave this valley with her at all.”

She let the silence stretch before delivering the promise.

“Rowan says if you come looking for him, he’ll finish the job he started.”

She hung up, oblivious to two things. My phone was sitting on the hospital tray on speaker. And out of paranoid habit, I had recorded every syllable.

I didn’t storm out of the ward. I didn’t drive to the estate with a rifle. I stepped into the hallway, dialed Colonel Arthur Mitchell, my former commanding officer, and played the file into the receiver.