Dalton shut the blue abstract folder and laid it on top of the original deed.

“This is felony conversion of a dead man’s estate,” Dalton said.

Captain Morales and I drove back to Fort Meade without saying a word.

The drive took forty minutes through the midafternoon traffic.

Neither of us switched on the radio.

At half past three we walked down the long, waxed hallway of the JAG legal assistance building.

The fluorescent lights overhead hummed softly above the gray tile floor.

I kept the green folder tucked tight under my right arm.