Hutchins is in the brig awaiting court-martial. Base life is returning to normal. And I'm trying to figure out what comes next.
My phone buzzes with a text from Devlin. Morning followed by a coffee cup emoji. We've fallen into a rhythm this past week—checking in throughout the day, me stopping by the K9 facility during lunch to watch Duke work, both of us figuring out what it means to be together without crisis forcing proximity. It feels real in a way nothing has since Tyler died, which is both reassuring and unsettling.
The knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. Vincent Alder from environmental services pokes his head in, weathered face breaking into a grin.
"Morning, Andi. Got a minute?"
"Sure, come in." I gesture to the chair across from my desk.
He settles in with a grunt, setting a clipboard on his knee. "Just wanted to coordinate on the south perimeter habitat barriers. We're seeing increased nesting activity in the deterrent zones, which means the system's working exactly like you said it would."
"That's good news." I pull up the aerial survey data on my screen. "The barriers are redirecting flight patterns away from the runway approach without disrupting natural migration. Win-win."
"More than that." Vincent leans back, studying me with direct assessment I've gotten used to from the older base personnel. "You save lives with this work. Mine included. I've got grandkids who need me around, and I fly on those planes for inspections. So thank you."
The gratitude catches me off guard. "Just doing my job."
"Maybe. But you did it despite someone trying to run you off base." He stands, collecting his clipboard. "That takes guts. Glad you stuck around."
After he leaves, I sit with his words for a moment. The base community has been mostly supportive since Hutchins' arrest, though there are still pockets of resistance to change. But Vincent represents something important—proof that competence and results matter more than gender or civilian versus military status.
Lieutenant Colonel Cain requested a meeting this morning. The official reason is to discuss next quarter's protocol expansion, but her assistant mentioned a commendation.
Cain's assistant waves me in immediately. The lieutenant colonel stands when I enter, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.
"Andi, have a seat." She waits until I'm settled. "I wanted to personally commend you for your work here at Ridgeway. Yourhabitat management protocols have exceeded expectations, and your handling of the recent situation with Master Sergeant Hutchins was exemplary."
"Thank you, ma'am. The protocols were implemented with full cooperation from base personnel. It was a team effort."
"You can deflect all you want, but the results speak for themselves." She slides a folder across the desk. "Your contract is being extended with increased funding for expansion into additional installations. Command wants your protocols standardized across the region. Consider this official recognition that you've proven yourself beyond any doubt."
The meaning behind her words is clear. Hutchins' worldview lost. Competence won.
"I appreciate the confidence. I'm ready to expand the program whenever command gives authorization."
"Good." She closes the folder with finality. "One more thing. Master Sergeant Hutchins' court-martial begins next week. You'll be called to testify. I wanted to give you advance notice."
The ice that runs down my spine at his name is familiar, but I refuse to let it show. "I'm ready. The evidence is clear."
"I have no doubt." Cain's expression softens slightly. "What happened to you was unacceptable. His conviction will send the right message about accountability."
When I leave Cain's office, my phone buzzes. This time it's Mom.
Lunch at the diner? Need to talk.
I text back confirmation and spend the rest of the morning finishing reports. At noon, I head out. The drive to Pine Valley takes twenty minutes, familiar roads winding through coastal scrub starting to green with spring growth.
The diner is busy with lunch rush when I arrive. Scents of bacon grease and fresh coffee mingle with the yeasty smell ofbread baking. Mom spots me immediately, waving me toward the booth in the back corner.
"You look better," she says once I'm seated, sliding a menu across even though we both know I'm getting the grilled chicken sandwich. "Color's back in your face."
"Someone tried to kill me a week ago." I keep my tone light. "The bar for improvement was pretty low."
"Don't deflect with humor, Andrea." She uses my full name, which means we're having the conversation I suspected. "I want to know about Devlin."
The waitress appears before I have to answer. Sally, who's worked here for years and knows both our orders by heart, pulls out her notepad anyway. "The usual for you ladies?"
"Please," Mom says. "And bring Andi some sweet tea. She looks like she needs it."
