Lindsey smiled. “Well, thanks again for the ride.”

“Anytime,” he said.

She gave him a small wave and turned and headed to the house. Maybe if nothing else, she and Sully were reestablishing their friendship. The thought made the heaviness in her chest ease just the tiniest bit. But then she thought of Robbie and she felt taken out at the knees once again. How could someone as vibrant as Robbie Vine be dead?

• • •

“Lindsey, wake up!” a voice called, accompanied by a fist pounding on her apartment door.

Heathcliff bounded off of the bed and out of the bedroom, and skidded across the wooden floor of the living room to the front door, barking all the way.

Lindsey squinted at the clock. It was seven o’clock in the morning but it felt like the middle of the night. Sleep had been impossible last night and she hadn’t drifted off until the wee hours of the morning.

“Lindsey!” the voice called again.

She was wearing her favorite blue-and-green-plaid pajama bottoms with a matching solid green top. She glanced down and decided she was decent enough to let in whoever was outside and so followed Heathcliff to the door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“Charlie.”

Definitely decent enough; Charlie had seen her in her jammies a million times.

She unlatched the chain and turned the deadbolt. She pulled the door open and Heathcliff shot out to greet Charlie with a hug around the knees and some furious wagging of his tail.

“Hey there, boy,” Charlie said as he scratched Heathcliff’s ears.

“What is it, Charlie? Is Nancy okay?”

“No, Nancy is fine,” he said. “She’s already over at Violet’s, going full mother hen on her.”

Lindsey nodded.

“But you have to turn on the news,” he said. “Emma Plewicki is about to give a press conference about Robbie Vine’s death.”

“Oh! Oh!” Lindsey turned and hurried back into her apartment. She grabbed her remote and flipped on the local news channel.

Sure enough, there was live footage of Emma Plewicki at the police station. Lindsey turned up the volume.

“At seven forty-seven last night,” Emma said, “Mr. Robert Vine took ill while performing on the Briar Creek Community Theater stage.”

The sound of cameras snapping pictures of Emma buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. Lindsey was pleased to see that Emma kept her composure. Charlie came to stand beside her.

“She’s representin’,” he said as he nodded with approval.

Lindsey gave him a sideways look and turned back to the television.

“Mr. Vine was rushed to the hospital for further treatment,” Emma said. “I want to assure his adoring fans that everything has been done to give Mr. Vine the best possible care. Because we have been unable to locate Mr. Vine’s immediate family, we ask that you respect their privacy until we can fully inform them of the situation.”

“Chief Plewicki, was it a drug overdose?” one reporter shouted.