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“Do not ask me tonight whether I want him prosecuted,” she said.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I was thinking you should sleep before people begin asking you to save them from what they did.”

Caroline looked at him.

Daniel stood. “Call before you get up.”

After he left, she took one pain pill, turned off the lamp, and lay awake until the marina lights blurred against the window.

By morning, a photograph of Harold being placed in the county cruiser had appeared in a neighborhood Facebook group. The post did not identify Caroline, but the comments did. Someone wrote that an elderly veteran had been arrested after a dispute with his daughter over a family home. Someone else corrected the writer: Harold had never served. A third person said Caroline was a Navy captain who had tried to steal the property from her own grandmother.

Caroline read twenty-three comments before closing the app.

Commander Price called at seven.

“I assume you have seen the internet,” he said.

“I have seen a neighborhood page run by people who consider leaf collection a constitutional issue.”

“One of those people tagged the command’s public account.”

Caroline closed her eyes.

“Public affairs will respond only if required.”

“They should not respond at all.”

“That is my recommendation.”

“Good.”

Price hesitated. “There is a second issue. A reporter called the duty desk.”

“Local?”

“Yes.”

“Do not confirm anything beyond my assignment and rank.”

“Already done.”

Caroline sat upright too fast and pressed a hand to her ribs. Through the wall, she heard Daniel’s shower running in the room across the hall.

“I need three days of medical leave,” she said.

“You need more than three.”

“I need three now. We will reassess.”

“You are going to that house.”

“Yes.”

“Against medical advice?”

“The doctor did not advise me about real estate.”

Price was quiet long enough to make his disapproval feel formal.

“Captain, permission to speak plainly.”

“You have been doing that for years.”

“Your command will survive without you. Your family may not survive with you trying to command it.”

Caroline looked at the bent ribbon clasp on the desk.

“That is an unhelpful distinction.”

“It is the only useful one I have.”

Daniel knocked before she could answer.

“I have to go,” she told Price.

“Call me tonight.”

“That was not an order.”

“No, ma’am.”

Daniel entered carrying two paper cups and a manila folder.

“I found coffee,” he said. “I did not inspect the machine.”

Caroline accepted a cup. “Progress.”

He opened the folder on the desk.

“Soundline’s attorney sent me the proposed agreement. Claire signed a broker acknowledgment, not the sale contract itself. She represented that she was authorized to negotiate for the estate.”

“There is no estate ownership.”

“I know.”

“Does the buyer?”

“They received a preliminary title report yesterday afternoon. It identifies you as the record owner.”

Caroline took a careful sip. The coffee was too hot and tasted faintly of hazelnut.

“Then why were they still trying to get signatures?”

“Because a clean title report does not prevent people from hoping the owner will cooperate after being pressured.”

Daniel slid a copy of an email toward her. Claire had written that family approval was expected and that Caroline was “temporarily resistant due to sentimental concerns.”

Caroline read the sentence twice.

“She knew,” Caroline said.

“She knew before yesterday that you were the owner.”

“Maybe.”

Daniel pointed to the attachment list. “The title report was sent to her at eleven eighteen yesterday morning.”

Caroline had arrived at Evelyn’s house at one. Claire had already placed the sale agreement on the table.

The first argument had begun over the purchase price. The second began when Caroline said Claire had no authority to sell. Harold accused her of delaying because she wanted a larger share. Caroline told him there were no shares. He laughed. Claire stopped him from calling Soundline and asked Caroline to step into the living room.

Caroline remembered the paper trembling in Claire’s hand then. She had assumed it was anger.

“She did know,” Caroline said.

Daniel closed the folder.

“What are you going to do?”

“Return to the house.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“It is what I can answer.”

The county released Harold that afternoon under conditions that prohibited him from contacting Caroline or returning to Evelyn’s property. Marianne picked him up. Claire sent Caroline a text informing her of the release, then another insisting she had not known Soundline had completed its title search.

Caroline did not respond.

The deputy met Caroline and Daniel at the house shortly after three. His name was Miguel Ramos, though no one had used it during the arrest. In daylight, he looked less severe than he had while cuffing Harold. He had deep lines beside his mouth and a wedding ring scratched nearly white along the bottom.

“The scene has been released,” he said. “The bat is in evidence. We photographed the room and collected the document your sister was holding.”

“She has another copy,” Caroline said.

“I assumed she would.”

He gave her a property receipt for her damaged uniform items and explained that the prosecutor’s office would contact her. His language was careful. He promised nothing about charges or outcomes.

“Your mother told us she saw him raise the bat,” Ramos said.

Caroline looked toward the front door. A temporary plywood strip had been screwed across the broken frame.

“Did she say she saw anything before that?”

“She said she entered after hearing shouting.”

“That is not true.”

Ramos studied her.

“She was in the room.”

“Will she change her statement?”