Found none.
“Good,” he said.
Then he walked away.
I stayed there, listening to the party.
Chloe still displaying the watch.
Vance still networking.
Evelyn still smiling as though everything was under control.
My smile stayed.
Through sunset.
Through the guests leaving.
Through the night.
And into the fluorescent-lit JAG office early Monday morning.
I carried my folder under one arm.
Clean floors.
Quiet halls.
No emotion.
Perfect.
A specialist checked me in, and two minutes later I sat across from Captain Morales.
Sharp eyes.
No small talk.
“You said this was urgent,” she said.
I slid the folder toward her.
“It is.”
She started with the bank records, then the IP logs, then the power of attorney.
I let her read.
Her expression barely changed until she reached the forged signature.
“That’s not yours,” she said.
“No,” I replied.
She continued.
“45,000,” she said. “Transferred while you were deployed.”
