The letters were perfectly looped, graceful and steady.

It looked nothing whatsoever like the shaky scrawl on the forged bank papers sitting in Captain Morales’s military folder.

Evelyn fixed her pearl necklace and patted my knee.

“Take it,” she said.

“Treat yourself to a nice lunch today.”

Her overly cheerful mothering tone bounced off the living room walls.

“I know how the military pays,” Evelyn said.

“It looks fine on paper, but once they take out taxes and mess fees, there’s hardly anything left.”