30 HUDSON

“Well, do you think he did it?” Morgan asked. They were sitting in Hudson’s living room again, digging through the cold case box. He’d changed into quintessential Saturday attire—sweatpants and a T-shirt—and Morgan had done the same. When they crawled out of bed, she’d simply followed him to his closet, grabbed a black BHPD T-shirt, and slipped it on as though she owned it. She sat on the armrest of his couch now, clutching a cup of coffee with a jumbo marshmallow floating on top, and bounced her bare foot on the edge of the coffee table.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “I really don’t know.” It was the honest-to-God truth. As much as he wanted to believe Tobias wouldn’t have shot Garrison, he couldn’t give his brother his complete vote of confidence. He’d seen what people were capable of when their backs were up against the wall. Tobias killing Garrison could have been as simple as owing someone a favor. Who, was the question. Tobias was Hades, Lord of the Underworld. But even the real Hades had Zeus to answer to.

“He let me drown, once, when we were kids.” The confession was a prisoner suddenly left unguarded. The words tumbled from his lips, tasting freedom. “Well, I didn’t drown, obviously. But almost.”

Morgan’s head tilted. “What happened?”

Hudson sat on the floor, the coffee table at chest height and his elbows planted on its surface. His fists formed a V under his chin. “We were playing on the pier. I must’ve been seven, or so. Tobias nine. It was getting dark. The pier was half sunk with these concrete posts jutting upward; it looked like a key. We started to head back, hopping from post to post, and I missed. I fell into the water. Jesus, it was cold.” Hudson heard his own voice; it sounded to him like someone else was telling his story. The words were a wave, slow at first and gathering speed until they crested and began to decrescendo. He exhaled, his breath ragged. “It felt like arms dragging me under,” he remembered. “Like the whole pier was on top of my chest. I fought to break the surface, and when I did, I saw Tobias looking down at me. I reached for him and he—he walked away.”

“He left you?” said Morgan. “When you were drowning?” When Hudson set his jaw, she added, “That’s hard core. How’d you get out?”

Hudson was shaking his head. “The mercy of God, I suppose. A wave came and lifted me just enough that I could grab a piece of the broken slab and pull myself up.”

“And you walked home from there?”

“Someone heard me yelling and called nine-one-one. A cop found me clinging to the pier. He wrapped me up in a blanket and brought me home.”

“Makes sense.” Morgan sipped her coffee. The warmth steamed her glasses.

“What does?”

“You.” She gestured to him with her free hand. “Law enforcement. Good cop. The whole bit.”