Dark Harbor by David Hosp Page B

proactive, though.”
    Clarke sighed. “What do you suggest?”
    Wendyl’s eyes narrowed, and the governor could see schemes being laid behind his dark pupils. “Let me think about it,” he said.
    “Fine,” said Clarke, nodding wearily. “You think about it. I have to get ready for work.” He rose and crossed to the doorway that led into the hall. “You’ll be in the office in a half hour when I need you?”
    “As always,” Wendyl replied.
    “Yes,” Clarke muttered to himself. “As always.” He left his chief of staff to find his own way out and headed upstairs, passing the portraits of five generations of Clarkes that hung along the staircase wall.

Chapter Nine
    F INN ARRIVED AT THE OFFICE at eight-fifteen the next morning— late by his habits, which normally had him at his desk by seven. It took him nearly a half hour to listen to his voice mail. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to bed without checking his messages at work, and it made him feel like he was slipping.
    He was listening to the last of the messages when Nick Williams appeared at his door. Finn waved him in and motioned for him to sit down. He jotted down a few notes in response to the rather long-winded message, then he hung up. “Sorry about that,” he said to Williams.
    “No problem,” Nick said. He rubbed his neck as he looked at Finn. “How are you holding up?”
    Finn gave a shrug. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, but you know how it goes, that’s part of the job. It’s nothing that should interfere with the Tannery case.”
    “I’m not talking about work, Finn, I’m talking about Natalie.”
    “I know you were,” Finn admitted. He looked away.
    “I mean, shit, I’m still shaken up by it, and I didn’t know her half as well as you did.” Williams leaned back in his chair and let a puff of breath escape his lips. “This job is bitch enough, Finn,” he said. “Keeping your mind focused with all of this stuff going on in addition to the work seems like it’d be damned near impossible. Are you sure you don’t want to take a little time before you jump right into a case like this?”
    Finn looked at Williams. He was probably ten years older than Finn—mid-forties, Finn guessed—but still pretty well preserved. His brown hair was thinning, but it looked like he stayed in reasonably good shape, and his features were sharp enough to make his face attractive. All the same, he didn’t have the drive Finn had. He’d made partner because he was an excellent tactician with a remarkable capacity to digest information, but he’d never be a first-rate trial counsel. He just didn’t have the competitive fury. He was well liked, and Finn respected him, but he’d never understand that, whatever the circumstances, Finn couldn’t possibly turn down an opportunity like this.
    “I appreciate your concern,” Finn said, and he meant it. “But concentrating on this case will help me deal with everything else. It’s the only way I know to lose myself.”
    Williams shrugged. “If that’s really the way you feel …”
    “It is.”
    “All right, then let’s talk about where we are in the case. You’re familiar with the basics, right?”
    “I think so,” Finn said, nodding.
    “Good.” Williams leaned forward, fidgeting in his chair. “The two primary weaknesses of Ms. Tannery’s case are the issues of negligence and causation. First, she has to show that our client, Huron Security, was negligent—that they did something wrong. Her lawyers will argue that Huron failed to adequately guard the railway yard.”
    “That’s what I’d argue,” Finn agreed.
    “Of course,” Nick said, nodding. “But Huron was following the guidelines laid out by the National Transportation Safety Board. And while those guidelines are very specific regarding how to deal with passengers and threats on the trains, they say nothing about how to guard the trains when they aren’t running. If a mistake was made,