Manny often walked through this particular lane when the worst of his insomnia kept him awake. It was a habit born of a long-forgotten case—one the memory of which he couldn’t shake himself free of. The cold, crisp air often brought him a sense of relief he couldn’t ever find in the warmth of his bed.
Now, Manny crouched carefully, palms open, murmuring soft reassurance into the bitter air. The dog growled again, then let out a trembling whine, torn between warning him off and begging for help. Rain clung to its matted fur like tiny crystals.