Arthur Vance’s thick injunction drafts were sitting right inside.

I pulled the top page off the stack.

Arthur wanted to freeze the hardware store accounts, drag our family’s name through the courts, and bring in local law enforcement.

I tucked the page back into the faded blue folder and tossed the folder into the back seat.

I didn’t need a civilian lawyer to settle a family dispute.

At fifteen hundred hours I was driving the two-lane perimeter road that ran around the Marine base.

The tall chain-link fence ran alongside the hot asphalt, topped with angled barbed wire.