Dib checked his watch impatiently as he banged on the door a second time. 7:02pm. Too much time had passed.

A young woman opened the door as he was about to knock again, a sleepy child fussing in her arms.

"What?" she asked, irritated. He held up his badge.

"I need to see Josh Brendle."

Her expression quickly shifted to concern.

"Why, what happened? He's not here."

"Where is he?"

"Still at work, I guess. He's late coming home. Is he in trouble?"

"Where does he work?"

"Katurra Kitchen," she replied, eyes wide as she stared up at him. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

"Stay inside, lock your doors," Dib said. "You may be in danger."

He ran back to his car as the woman disappeared back into the small house.

The restaurant was dark, a lunch and breakfast bistro that closed around 4pm. Dib shined his light in the window by the door as he peered inside. The place was empty, only a few lights on in the kitchen behind the bar. He circled the building quickly. A single car was parked near the dumpsters. He found the delivery door swung ajar. Dib stepped inside, gun in hand as he looked around.

"Police," he called as he moved through the back room cautiously. "Anyone here?"

He stepped around the corner into the kitchen, weapon raised. A garbled sound drew his attention to the floor and he breathed a curse. Josh stared up at him vacantly, hands twitching over the gushing wound in his abdomen. Dib quickly grabbed a dishtowel off the counter and took a knee next to him, brushing his hands aside to press the towel against the wound. Blood soaked through rapidly.

"Josh, listen to me," he said loudly. "Who was your employer at the sideshow, ten years ago? Think, Josh."

The young chef, barely twenty-seven, coughed and gasped, eyes closing.

"Josh!" Dib snapped and he opened his eyes, looking up at him.

"H-Henry," he wheezed, hands trembling over Dib's. "Pacino."

"Henry Pacino?"

He nodded slightly, gasping as his eyes slid shut again. Dib quickly called 911, giving his name, location, and badge number as he requested an ambulance. He kept one hand pressed on the soaked towel.

"Stay with me Josh," he said as put his phone on speaker and set it next to them. "You're going to be alright."

The young man's fingers curled tightly against his hand for a moment, then went slack. Dib checked for a pulse and started CPR, yelling at him.

Sirens approached quickly. He was still giving CPR when EMS entered the building. One of the ambulance personnel pulled him away as another checked the body. Dib watched as they declared him dead and then turned away, slamming a hand against a freezer door and shouting a curse. The EMS took his arm and led him from the building, making him sit down on the front steps. His phone was brought to him and he thanked the woman absently. He called Steven.

"Dib?"

"He's dead."

"Jesus, I'm sorry."

"Henry Pacino. Find him."

"Got it. I'll text you." Steve hung up and Dib dropped the bloody phone into his pocket. He would have to stay until the scene was secured and he'd given a statement. He looked down at the blood drying on his hands. So close. So fucking close.