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hospital.”
    Just then, my cell phone vibrated. The number came from within the Minneapolis Police Department. Usually I had to hound them for information, but this call could be a response to a message I left regarding the crime scene of Kate’s slaying.
    “Just a minute, Noreen. This could be a break in that murder.”
    “We’ve done our job there, Riley. And I’m more than a little pissed at you for latching on to another murder, but am willing to overlook it because you enterprised this dog story.”
    I tilted my head, pretending I didn’t know what she was talking about in regards to the homicide, but she continued to rant. “Unless there’s an arrest in the killing, move on to something else. Maybe that gambling scandal with the youth sports association.”
    None of the newscast producers seemed eager for a homicide follow-up during the huddle that morning, but I thought they could be swayed to keep Kate’s story alive if I landed a scoop. That’s how I had bought time this afternoon to meet with the victim’s sister at the crime scene. Unfortunately, Laura had nixed any interview idea, so I had tried reconnecting with the cops.
    I answered my cell phone. “Riley Spartz here.”
    “Officer Paul Schultze.” Instead of police homicide, the voice belonged to the street cop who responded to the dog-in-the-car call. By habit, I’d handed him my card at the scene.
    “Just wanted to tell you the dog didn’t make it.” Somber. He sounded like he needed to share his disappointment with someone.
    “Oh no, that’s terrible.” I tapped the side of Noreen’s computer to get her attention as she checked her email. DOG DIED I mouthed while covering the phone with my hand.
    “Yeah, the vet ended up having to euthanize him,” the officer said. “Poor mutt.”
    Noreen mouthed back WHAT?
    “Couldn’t they do anything to help?” I scribbled DEAD DOG on the back of an envelope and handed it to Noreen.
    “Apparently not. The vet says heatstroke took its toll.”
    “Can I do a camera interview with you about it? I know our viewers will care deeply.” And so will my boss. And so did I . . . after all, I held that dying dog in my arms.
    Bye Bye Buddy.
    “That all has to be cleared with Chief Capacasa,” he said.
    “I understand.”
    I sure did. If anyone from the police department was going to be featured on the news, it was going to be The Chief. That is, unless the media was pushing for details concerning an excessive force allegation involving one of his officers versus an unarmed college student. The department’s communications officer faced the spotlight in those types of cases.
    “I appreciate the update, Officer Schultze. I’ll be in touch.”
    “Are you talking about the dog in the car?” The words were out of Noreen’s mouth before I even pressed the Off button on my phone. I nodded. “Buddy didn’t make it.” My stomach felt nauseous.
    Noreen’s lips curled. Her pride over Channel 3 playing a role in saving one of the earth’s creatures had vanished. But she still had a means of revenge not available to most people.
    She stuck her head out of her office. “Listen up, everyone. New lead story for ten.”

CHAPTER 8
    H e stroked the jagged wood of the broken bat before wedging the shards against the matching half and putting it back in the trophy case.
    The office wooden bat softball team had needed one more player that day, more than a year ago. They stuck him in right field and hoped no hits came anywhere near. He struck out each time at bat, never making contact with the ball.
    Then came the cliché bottom of the ninth . . . tie game . . . two outs . . . a man on third . . . he was up. On the bench, he saw his teammates rolling their eyes and sighing in defeat, certain they were about to lose the game to the company marketing department.
    He swung at the first pitch and heard a crack. He was more aware the bat had splintered than that the hit was fair. His colleagues screamed for him to