“Mr.

Collins will give you three minutes, Commander,” she said.

I took the envelope and stayed on my feet beside the glass display case full of mahogany plaques and silver trial awards.

I pressed my thumb along the edge of my seventy-five-dollar parking garage slip.

Bradley Collins came out of his corner office in a tailored gray three-piece suit.

He tapped the cap of a heavy gold-trimmed fountain pen against his left cuff, his shined shoes making no sound on the rug.

“Lieutenant Commander Carter,” he said, stopping five feet from me.