When she returned to bring me my drink later I tried to get her to apologize. “You know, we middle aged guys are better tippers if you stroke our eg... a little.” She sat down in the booth across from me and leaned toward me, smiling. “Honey, the paycheck covers my bills but tips won’t get you stroked. I’ve had perks you can’t leave on the table.” She leaned back, proud of her statement, so I encouraged her to continue. “Really?” I asked, with all the sincerity I could muster. “Yep.” She. Is Mrs. Gonzalez ... sorry, Mrs. Santos home?”“Yes, come on in, Sergeant. Maria is looking forward to meeting you.”In for a penny, in for a pound. I stepped across the threshold into a very ordinary-looking home. A toddler was walking around in the living room, the floor of which was covered with toys. I recognized Maria Gonzalez from when I met her in Baghdad. She abandoned trying to clean up after her son and stood up and came over to me. “Sergeant Reaper, it is good to see you again.”“Thank. More

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