"We looking for anything special?"

"A clue would be good."

"Such as?"

"Anything that looks like a clue," Jesse said. "Anything that doesn't belong. That's out of place. That might have once belonged to a teenaged girl. Or a murderer. Or Lillian Gish, for that matter. Whatever you see."

"Who's Lillian Whatsis?"

"Forget Lillian," Jesse said. "Go look."

"It's a big lake," Simpson said.

"Take your time. When in doubt, assume it's a clue."

"I'll call Eddie," Simpson said.

He stood, hitched his gunbelt a little, and walked from the room. A man on a mission. When he was alone, Jesse sat for a moment listening to the dog howl. Then he got up and found a roll of crime scene tape and cut off a length and went down to the cell block. The dog stopped howling the minute he saw Jesse. His tail wagged hesitantly. Jesse opened the door and went in.

"We can improve your accommodations," Jesse said to the dog. "You can stay with the chief of police himself."

He looped the length of plastic tape around the dog's neck and led the dog back down the corridor to his office.

Chapter Five

The dog was sleeping behind Jesse's desk.

When Jenn came into Jesse's office at twenty minutes past five, the dog raised his head and growled at her. Jenn stopped short.

"I know you've gone out with some dogs since we broke up," Jenn said, "but right in the office?"

"His name's Deputy," Jesse said.

"His?"

"We're just friends," Jesse said.

"Well, can you leave your friend long enough to go to dinner with me?"

"I feel like I ought to bring him," Jesse said.

"For God's sake," Jenn said. "Don't you have a dog officer in this town?"

"Yeah. Bob Valenti. Part-time guy."

"Well, call him up, have him take the dog to the kennel or the pound or whatever you call it."