“Yes, sir.” Abner slung the bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing—which, for him, it might as well have. He stepped back as the door opened, taking his proper place behind Anderson. Out of sight, out of mind, and hopefully out of range of any unauthorized orders.

He shouldn’t have been worried, though. The woman who opened the door was completely unfamiliar, and the dismissive glance she gave him suggested she thought the same. Abner caught the detective’s eye as they followed her into the house and shook his head—no, not her.

Mrs. DePleur’s living room was small and neat, with a relatively intact couch—a rarity outside the bunker—and a wood-paneled holotape player. She motioned for them to sit down, but Abner opted to stand near the door instead. She could still be a threat despite her innocent appearance, and he’d prefer to be ready if she tried to make a move on his superior. Besides, he wasn’t allowed on the furniture.