My father said something I couldn’t hear.
“Richard, stop worrying. She said she’d handle it. She always handles it.”
She always handles it.
I put on my cover. I checked my uniform in the little mirror by the basement stairs. I’d pressed it that morning, before the sun came up, in the laundry room of my own house, while my family slept upstairs in my bedrooms.
At 1:55, I heard cars in the driveway.
I went upstairs.
My whole family was in the living room. My father in a pressed polo shirt. My mother in her cream cardigan, with a plate of cookies on the coffee table. Chloe on the gray sectional with her feet up. Vance standing behind her, one hand on her shoulder, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
They’d put a bottle of champagne on the kitchen counter with a bow on it. Next to it was a card that said CONGRATULATIONS, HOMEOWNERS!
My mother turned around and saw me in uniform.
“Oh, Kate. You didn’t have to dress up.”
“I think I did, Mom.”
The doorbell rang.
My father answered it with his big welcoming smile.
It was Martin Dalton, in his tweed jacket, with his broken briefcase.
Behind him was Captain Morales in uniform.
Behind her were two officers from the Colorado Springs Police Department.
And behind them was a man in a gray suit with a badge clipped to his belt. Special Agent Harlan, Army CID.
My father’s smile didn’t disappear right away.
It just sort of froze on his face and stayed there, like it didn’t know where else to go.
“Richard Hollis?” said one of the police officers. His name tag said SGT. PAYNE.
My father didn’t answer.
“Mr. Hollis, we’d like to speak with you and your wife. May we come in?”
