The short, slim woman with the iron gray hair and snapping eyes, dressed in camouflage and boots that had seen more miles than my car didn't seem to care she was tracking mud over the polished stone floor. If anything, she ground the gooey stuff on the bottom of her treads into the surface like it brought her joy. No way I was cleaning that. Eddie could lick it clean for all I cared. She had an edge to her visible even from across the wide entry, sharp like a blade that had been ...