The scent of pine and damp earth was Leo’s sanctuary. Here, in the quiet of the woods, he could almost forget the acrid smell of cordite and the coppery tang of blood. His cabin was a testament to a simple life, a life built to atone for the one he’d left behind. The past was a ghost, and Leo was its only exorcist.The ghost arrived in a sleek, black SUV that churned up his gravel driveway. The man who stepped out, Agent Miller, wore a crisp suit and a face lined with burdens Leo recognized. He carried a file. Inside