Massaging his right temple, Mahler wondered if he had spoken any of his dream conversation out loud and if Coyle had heard it. What would Coyle, or any member of the VCI team, make of his talking to a dead girl?

Mahler reached for a coffee. Breaking open the plastic top, he wrapped his hands around the cup. “Steve’s okay. They gave him Percocet, so I don’t think he’s feeling anything.”

Coyle looked up at the TV screen, where firemen sprayed water at burning cars. “You see him?”

Mahler nodded. “Dog bite on his forearm. No stitches—they’re leaving it open to drain. Filled him with enough antibiotics to give him the runs for a week. X-rays showed cracked ribs. Bruises on his chest from the airbag. Glass cuts on his face. Could have been a hell of a lot worse.”

“He say anything?”

“Said he just made the last payment on the Charger.”

Coyle opened his coffee and drank. “Car looks like it was hit by a tank. According to the tow truck driver, it was a miracle Steve came out alive.”

“What do we know?”

“DA’s office is taking over the investigation because it’s an assault on a law enforcement officer. Paul Eckel’s in charge, and it’s all on hurry-up. Looks like the dogs attacked Steve inside the car while he was on the freeway. According to blood tests, the dogs were injected with liquid amphetamine—speed. Must have been shot up after they were shoved in the trunk, or it was a time-release deal. Lab estimates at least a hundred milligrams. By the time Steve got in the car, the animals would have been higher than shit.”

“And how’d they get there?”

“Someone broke into the trunk. The dogs clawed their way from the trunk through the back seat. Crazy, right?”

“Jesus. Who thinks of this stuff, and why take all the trouble? Steve in some kind of shit outside the job we should know about?”

“Daniel’s checking a few personal things in our young friend’s life, but get this: Bailey sees the dogs, and the first thing she says is, the hairs look like a match for the hairs on our victim’s blanket. We haven’t had time for a lab analysis or anything, but—”

“What’re you saying?”

“Whoever did our park victim decides to get rid of the dogs and at the same time—”

“Come after us.”

They stared at each other.

“Who the fuck is this?” Mahler asked. “Partridge?”