The duffel was open at my feet, Elena’s thermos still packed inside, still full, because I hadn’t had a quiet hour to open it since Tuesday.

“Your commander’s office called my desk twice this morning,” Marisol said.

“About what?”

“They wouldn’t tell a social worker.”

The bailiff opened the courtroom door and held it.

“They’re back on the record.”

The judge came in and sat down, and the clerk handed him a single page with a seal pressed into the corner.

“Sole legal custody and sole medical authority to the mother.