The on-the-side part and the soundless TV were standard operating procedure. Dog, however, was a nice addition: Warm, friendly, and he smelled like summer air for some reason. The only time it got a little disorientating was when Dog dreamed, his paws twitching, his jaw working, muffled growls or woofs coming every once in a while.

You had to wonder what he dreamed about. Clearly, there was running involved, given all that footwork, but hopefully it was because he was doing the chasing.

Jim arched his neck and checked out what was on the television. The local news was featuring that almost beautiful but very blond newscaster, who evidently covered weekend mornings. As she ran through her reports, images appeared to the left of her head and taped footage replaced her every now and again. School board vote. Pothole problem. At-risk youth program.

And then a familiar picture flashed: Vin’s face.

Jim shot up, grabbed the remote, and hit the volume…and could not believe what he heard:

Vin arrested for beating his girlfriend. Bail to be set shortly. Devina in the hospital for overnight observation.

“And in other news,” the anchorwoman continued, “there has been a second brutal attack downtown. Robert Belthower, thirty-six, was found after midnight in an alley not far from where Friday night’s two victims were shot. He is now at St. Francis Hospital in critical condition. No suspects have been identified yet in the crime, and Police Chief Sal Funuccio issued a statement urging caution….”

Jim stroked Dog’s back. Holy shit…Vin diPietro was a lot of things, but a woman beater? Hard to believe that, given the way he’d gone after those two college kids for harassing Marie-Terese.

And another guy found in an alley? Although maybe that wasn’t related to the—

As if on cue, because this shit storm clearly needed another tornado in the mix, his cell phone went off.

Jim picked the thing up from the bedside table without looking where it was—a little trick he’d taught himself thanks to having worked in the pitch-black a lot. Amazing how sound made up for sight.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said without looking to see who it was.

His old boss’s voice was about as cheerful as he felt. “She doesn’t exist.”

Jim’s hand tightened its hold, even though this was not a surprise. “You couldn’t find anything?”