Before He Wakes
“I want to catch the sonofabitch who took your daughter, but I want to get the right guy.”
Mr. Barrett wrapped his arms around himself, leaning slightly forward so that his posture began to mimic that of his wife. His face became a collection of tics and twitches, as if he were about to undergo a change, a metamorphosis. When he spoke, his voice was hushed and choked. “Hank Bukhari is the right guy.”
Hammett stood and walked around his desk. He hesitated but then placed a hand lightly on Mr. Barrett’s shoulder. He almost expected the man to jerk away, or even throw a punch, but instead he stood still and silent, allowing the contact.
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