My mother-in-law shaved my head while I slept on the very night the United States Army promoted me into one of the most important commands of my career.

“Now he is all I have left.”

There it was. Not remorse. Not apology. Possession.

Ryan was not a son to her. He was an artifact. A life she had reshaped to fill a grave.

“Linda,” I said, “who helped you?”

She said nothing.

“Who prepared the documents?”

Still nothing.

“Who told Ryan to come to this base with forged credentials?”

A soft click sounded on the line.

She had hung up.

A minute later, Alvarez returned.

“Call was routed through a civilian number registered to a prepaid device,” he said. “Security is preserving the log.”

“Of course it was.”

“Ma’am.” He hesitated. “CID wants to speak with you. The general has also been informed.”