“Figured you’d already be on the road back to Washington,” Glenn said.

“Seeing as you don’t have a house to live in down here anymore.”

“I’m still at the motel,” I said.

“Money running short?” Glenn asked.

“I talked to a military lawyer this morning,” I said.

The silence dragged on over the line.

I listened to the faint rumble of a delivery truck going past outside his shop.

“And what did your make-believe lawyer friend have to say?” Glenn asked.