Page 2 of Hudson
A moment later his boss’s voice boomed through the office.
“Hud!”
He groaned, pushed his chair back and walked to Dave Merkle’s office. Dave sat behind his desk, reports stacked on every surface, fingers steepled. Deke stood by the door.
“Yeah?” Hud asked.
“I want you to go to Kalispell and talk to White’s ex-wife,” Dave said, leaning forward.
“But Deke—”
Dave shook his head. “Is not going. You’re not working the same case together. I don’t care how much time you think you’ll save. Family members do not work the same case.” He paused. “I’m not going to explain to your father why two of his sons were killed because they ignored protocol.”
“We thought it would help,” Deke murmured.
“I understand, but it’s too risky. It never happens. Ever.” Dave tapped the manila folder. “You stay here, Deke. You have your own case. Eli can keep combing through the files. I’ll find another agent or I’ll call Autumn Falls myself about Saunders.”
Hud nodded. “Thanks, Dave.”
He released a breath and left the office, returning to his desk, the weight of the case pressing down on his shoulders. Three agents weren’t enough. But soon, he hoped that number would change.
The week ground on the way bad weeks did, slow and stubborn, every lead either going cold or doubling back on itself. By Friday, all Hud wanted was to go home, crack open a beer and fall into bed.
He glanced around the office. Just him and one other agent left, the rest long gone for the weekend.He shut off his monitor, pushed back his chair, stood and stretched, then reached for his Stetson.
“You heading out, Hud?”
He glanced over at Briggs. “Yeah. You need to go too. Your wife won’t be happy with you.”
Briggs grinned. “I can change her mind.”
Hud chuckled, settling his hat on his head. “Head home. I’ll see you Monday.”
“On my way. Just need to find out what she wants me to bring home for dinner.”
“Alright. Lock up. Have a good weekend.”
He pushed through the glass door, walked to the elevator, and tapped the green button. The entire building had gone quiet. The sheriff’s office would be running round the clock as always, but every other office was dark and locked up tight. The building buzzed during the week, but when Friday hit most people were gone before quitting time.
Hud wasn’t one of them. This case just wouldn’t quit.
He was glad Rawley had survived. If those rustlers had been using armor-piercing rounds, it would have been a completely different story. Three shots to the vest had knocked him back a step each time, and if he hadn’t gone down when he did, the next one would have found his skull. Hud had stood there watching it happen, helpless, praying his friend was still breathing.
They’d lost an agent a few years back. A good man, experienced, careful, and it hadn’t mattered. The job turned on you without warning and you either accepted that or you found another line of work. Hud had accepted it a long time ago. He loved this job. But he never forgot what it cost.
The elevator opened into the lobby, the marblefloor catching the last of the evening light through the tall front windows. The building was emptied out, the usual daytime hum of lawyers and clerks and agents replaced by the particular silence of a large building after hours. He pushed through the heavy front doors and out into the fall air, cool and clean after the long grinding week, and pulled in a slow breath before crossing the parking lot to his black Silverado.
An empty house could wait a little longer.
He pulled out onto Main Street and pointed the truck toward Dewey’s. A beer and some music. Nothing complicated. Just an hour of not thinking about Harold White Sr. and spider webs that stretched across the state and a friend who still came to work pale and careful with his breathing.
One beer. Then home.
****
Perched on a barstool beneath the amber glow of the bar lights, Blair pulled her phone from her pocket, found Celine’s number and pressed call.
“Hey, Celine.” Her voice was low beneath the murmur of the bar, the clink of glasses, the band tuning up in the corner.
