A fat, redheaded man sat a little apart from the group. He radiated a special kind of concern. He was concerned for the girl and for his own children. He believed the actions of the night had been necessary, but he felt the girl's pain and he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing.
Above all, he was a man who wanted to do the right thing—the really right thing.
"You all have children," Sordman said. "Would you like to see them dragged out at night and treated the way you've treated this girl?"
"We've got to protect ourselves!" the young man said.
"Let him talk!" the fat man growled. He stared at the thick hands he spread on the table. "The girl has said all night she's innocent. Maybe she is. Maybe the Protector can do what we haven't done and find the real killer."
"I'm a master Talent," Sordman said. "If the killer is in the hotel, I can track him down before midnight. Will you give me that long?"
"How do we know you'll bring in the right man?"
"If he's the right man, he'll make it plain enough."
"You'll make him confess," the young man said. "You'll manipulate him like a puppet."
"What good will that do?" Sordman said. "Do you think I could control a man all the time he's in prison and on trial? If I use my Talent more than a few hours, I collapse."