The Better of the Bad by J.J. Hensley

Author:J.J. Hensley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

Chapter 19

Trevor Galloway

Sleep should have found me quickly after I arrived home, but my mind was working overtime. Chase was snoring down the hall in the guest room, and I imagined Bethany was either sleeping fitfully or watching bad late-night television in her hospital room. While my body was exhausted, several loose threads were tickling my skin.

With Koll and Downey chasing down the Hudson angle, I decided to focus on other alternatives. If nothing else, Hudson was going to have a tough time with the detectives. I’d given Downey the information I’d taken from the boat. Of course, the packet had been obtained illegally, so I had no idea how Downey planned to use it, but he did seem like a clever fellow.

I knew the killer had to have inside knowledge and, as it appeared now, some level of physical access to the communications center. Hudson could have supplied that access, but if not him, then who? The Trident III trio had to be viewed as potential suspects. They were highly trained SEALs and had motive to create chaos, but Waterford obviously didn’t want the police to know about them yet. If he was right, and Trident III did have good contacts within the law enforcement community, it was conceivable they were able to use someone who would give them access to the communications center to kill Paul Katers. Maybe I was being too hard on Waterford. My distrust of him could have been stemming from my general distrust of politicians and not anything deeper. But the acting performance he put on in his study warranted caution. I sensed something about him underneath what he allowed people to see. I suspected deep down he had the ability to pump ice through his veins and sharpen his wits to a point that could cut glass. Most politicians work hard to display strength. Sebastian Waterford had to consciously expend energy in order to show the world vulnerability.

Although I tried to not let my thoughts return to Dean Hudson, I laid in bed dwelling on the rage he must have felt being pinned in his patrol car and hearing the radio chatter of people desperately searching the wrong area. To have lost his gun and badge and have permanent physical limitations because of somebody’s screw up had to have taken a toll on the man. It would on anyone. I knew better than anybody what that journey could do to a person. Something about the trail of thoughts through a forest of resentment and abandonment seemed to be going somewhere, but the breadcrumbs faded from my sight as sleep found me at last.

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