EightChicago › Tuesday, December 2, 2008 › 15h10
When Ricki arrived at Jayson’s in the late afternoon, she sat cross-legged on the floor in the back room with Jeep, cradling his head in the fold of her legs, expressing in her best canine vocals how much she missed him.
Jeep wagged his tail as if life were back to normal.
Jayson stood blocking the doorway, pressing his hands against its frame, as if to widen it. “Did your colleagues at the station have anything to say?” he asked.
“Nothing more than you already know,” she said, glancing up with a weary but interrogating expression. “But they are a little suspicious about the break-in.” Her eyes narrowed into slits and her brow wrinkled. “Likewise.”
Jayson drew in a long slow breath, giving her nothing to analyze. Still, she persisted. “
