The Frayed Edge of Respect and the Silent Command of a Forgotten Soldier
CHAPTER 1: THE FRAYED EDGE The right pocket of the brown cotton jacket was torn at the corner, just enough for the cold, salt-rimmed wind off the transit canal to bite at Arthur Vance’s knuckles. He didn’t pull his hand out. Instead, his thumb rolled over the tiny, sharp ridges of the brass insignia clutch…