“Oh.” The shadow that had fallen over Bennett’s face lifted. He pressed his fingertip to the rim of his glass, slid it toward the edge of the counter like pushing a chess piece across the board. The cherry clung to the bottom. “He better be.”

4 HUDSON

The hush that descended upon Hudson’s entrance into roll call was so portentous, so profound, he felt as though he’d been swallowed by a wave. The phantom current that knocked the breath out of his lungs pulled him toward Garrison’s empty chair. He sat in the one next to it.

No one looked at him. Second-shift patrol officers, investigators, and command staff sat with their heads bowed, hands clasped, staring at their shoes or sneaking glances at the Wesson PD detectives who stood solemnly in the back of the room. Hudson did the same until, finally, Chief Stromwell cleared his throat. At a towering six foot five and 250 pounds, the chief was as large as the sand dunes he used to mow over in Iraq. And yet up there at the podium, he looked small. The reality of the past fourteen hours had made ants of them all.

“The hunt is on, but not for us. Wesson PD will be taking over…”

Stromwell’s voice became lost to the storm that tossed in Hudson’s head. His ears rang. A bolt of pain threatened to split his skull. He’d popped two Excedrin around seven this morning when he woke to feed Pip and let her out, then passed out on the couch for another couple of hours, trying and failing to convince himself he was trapped in a lucid dream; that he’d wake to a text from Garrison asking if he wanted to shoot darts after work. How long had it been since they’d done that? Three months? Hudson had been newly promoted to detective at the time.

“It’s going to be brutal.” Stromwell’s voice rose to the surface again. “Most of you have never been through something like this. And I pray we’ll never have to again. Lean on your fellow officers. Find a quiet place if you need a break.” He paused. His eyes landed on everyone in the room. “I think it’s fair to say that Brix Garrison was a friend to everyone. Some of us, he taught a great deal of what we know.”

Hudson clenched his jaw. The pain in his head seared behind his eyes. He took a deep breath, felt someone’s hand rest on his shoulder. It hurt too much to look and see who it was.

After dismissal, Hudson trudged upstairs to the Investigations Bureau. He hung his jacket on the rack near the door, by the stainless-steel bench with shackles chained to the concrete wall.

“Hello, May,” he said on the walk over to his desk. They were the first words he’d spoken all day.