The puppy picked himself up, walked around on Shaw’s legs for a few minutes, and then sat down, staring at Shaw.

“I don’t like you,” Shaw said. “And you don’t like me. But we have to do this for North.”

The puppy yawned again.

“On here,” Shaw flicked the card, “he says you need the leash. But you are your own creature. I respect that. You have a soul. You have a mind. You have finely honed instincts that have been bred into you over centuries.”

The puppy lifted one leg and licked himself.

“If anything, humans should be the ones with collars, and animals should be leading us around.”

The puppy just kept licking.

“And I know you put on an innocent show for North, but I know the truth. I know you’re diabolical. I know you’re a mastermind. For a dog, I mean.”

Long, vigorous licks. Enough licking that it was starting to make Shaw uncomfortable.

“I’m just trying to tell you that I think we’ve reached a point in our relationship that we don’t need a leash. Am I right?”

The licking had turned into tiny nibbles.

“Look,” Shaw said, “what you do on your own time, that’s up to you. What do you say? Ready for a walk?”

The puppy’s head snapped up.

“No leash?”

He gave a little sneeze.

“That’s what I thought.”

Shaw got to his feet, setting the puppy at the door, and wrapped the leash around one hand.

“Now I want you to stick close,” Shaw said as he opened the door. “I don’t know—”

Off like a shot, the puppy was gone.

3

SHAW SPRINTED DOWN THE block; ahead of him, a puffy white-and-gray mane jinked right at the corner. It was a beautiful October afternoon. The air was cool against Shaw’s face. The sun had that angle that only seemed to come in the autumn. Leaves clogged the storm drains in clumps of red and brown. Everything smelled like pizza, thanks to the little Italian shop two blocks over. Shaw tried to take in all these details, record them, preserve them. Because he knew, when North got back, he was a dead man.

Then Shaw’s phone began to ring.

He fumbled it out of the cargo shorts, saw North’s name, and answered the call.

“North,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Hi.”

“Why does it sound like you’re running?”

“What?” Shaw tried for a laugh.

“Shaw.”

“What?”

“Why did Mrs. Marianno call me and tell me that she just saw my dog?”

“Your dog?” Shaw could see the puppy about a hundred yards ahead, nosing around in a bed of daylilies.

“The dog.”

“I think it’s interesting that you said ‘my dog.’”

“I think it’s interesting that my neighbor is worried the dog—”

“Your dog.”

“—is worried the dog ran away.”