So far as I could tell, she was dressed pretty much the same way as she had been on the riverbank. Except a silvery flash of buckles told me that she’d put her boots back on. She must have gone back home before she’d headed off in this direction. That was where she’d left her weapons when she’d gone into the forest. Her twin Glocks were dangling from her hips, so much a part of her it looked like she’d been born wearing them. And she had her shotgun, the Mossberg 590 she’d used so many times to such impressive effect. Although -- unusually -- she was not holding that particular weapon. She had it on a sling across her back. The way that she was moving made my brow crease. Something had definitely changed. Cass had always been good in a fight, don’t get me wrong. She learned it the hard way mostly, as part of a motorcycle gang. But there had always been a ragged quality to everything she did, as if she had a powder keg inside her, ready to explode.
