11
Russell Foley was restless. Despite his best efforts, he could not sleep. For the best part of the night, he had lain awake, staring through the darkness at the ceiling somewhere above his bed. Even at the best of times, Foley had never been a good sleeper. It was worse when he was working on a difficult case. Surrendering to the futility of trying to will himself to sleep, he rose, showered and dressed at 6.00AM. By 6.30AM, he was once again behind his desk.
Beset with nervous energy, he pushed his chair away from the desk, stood and paced the floor of his small office. He loved his job. He was good at it, and with a long career behind him, his record substantiated his ability. His preference was to work on the street, alongside his men and women at the forefront of policing.
He and
