I sat in front of my computer, my dog in my lap. I scratched him lazily behind the ears as I scrolled through the pages on the screen. It had been a few days since I had killed Tommy Volker, and I felt the need to see where the "investigation" had gone. I knew there would be nothing, but I still liked to see.
I had a backdoor into the CBI website, a backdoor into what was supposed to be a secure, impenetrable website. I looked over case notes and personal logs, privet notes that people kept for their own wonderings. And then I saw something I thought I never would. There was a picture of me and my dog. I had gotten careless, I had let my guard down.
I looked down at the dog in my lap. I had enjoyed him. He had been very good to me. But now he was a liability. And that would not do.