"Stop it, Thomas! You're torturing the poor thing!"

"I'm not torturing anybody, Pam! I'm simply interviewing a witness."

"Oh, God help us," she said, throwing down the dish-towel and stomping back to the oven.

The bad man. The bad man.

The blender! Oh, how I hate the sound of the blender! It went on and on and on!

"Okay, little buddy. You did good. We're done."

Thomas grabbed a Beggin' Strip from the pantry and tore it into a dozen small pieces and held it behind his back. He lowered himself to his knees.

Pam, Rollo, and the boys watched in silence.

"We're going to use our relaxation exercises," Thomas explained in a soft voice, looking up at the crowd. "Give us a little room, okay?"

They stepped back.

"Emma says the object is distraction-when Hairy pays attention to me and the dog treat, he momentarily forgets what he was so upset about and he begins to calm down." Thomas took one bit of treat and held it up to his right eye. "Look," he said in a high sing-song. "Come."

Hairy tentatively came out from under the kitchen table, where he'd spent the last ten minutes the victim of Thomas's experimentation: Whenever Thomas turned on the blender, Hairy's ears flattened against his head, his tail curled between his legs, and he began shaking, howling, yipping, and peeing.

Then, as soon as Thomas turned it off, Hairy trembled, but unwound his body and became quiet.

"Come on, pal, you can do it. That's a good boy."

Hairy ventured forward and made eye contact with Thomas as he followed the path of the treat.

"Good boy, Hairy."

The dog took the treat and sat quietly in front of his kneeling master.

"Why are you on your knees?" Pam whispered, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace that had fallen over the room.

"Emma said that I'm so big and Hairy is so little that bending over him would be too intimidating. This way I'm closer to his level." Thomas brought another treat beside his eye. "Look. Oh, good boy, Hairy!"

Thomas repeated the exercise until he ran out of treats and enthusiastically called Hairy to him. The dog jumped into his arms and burrowed his snout into the crook of his master's neck. Thomas stroked him.

"It's all right, ace," he cooed. "I'm sorry I had to do that, but you did good work. I think you've helped me figure something out."

Thomas looked back up at the silent group.

"Emma says that dogs always do things for a reason." He stood up, grunting with stiffness, and removed a small vial of pills from the kitchen cabinet. He took a pinch of mozzarella from the counter and stuck the pill inside, then gave it to Hairy to eat.

"Emma prescribed Xanax for when he gets a panic attack-and this was the worst one yet-and he'd been doing so much better." He looked at his sister, Rollo, and the boys and noted they were staring at him with a combination of confusion and wonder.

"It's a long story, but I think Hairy witnessed a homicide and I just realized the dog isn't as stupid as I'd assumed. I think he may be able to help with the case."

Nobody's expression changed. "I know it sounds strange, and I can't go into the details, but I think Emma might be able to help me with this." Thomas felt himself smile. "I can't wait to tell her about it."

He placed Hairy on the kitchen floor and watched him follow Jack and Petey into the living room.

"Emma's going to love this," he mumbled to himself, just as he turned to see Pam and Rollo giving him open-mouthed stares.

"Exactly when did you perfect the Siegfried and Roy routine?" Pam asked, her brows pulled into a deep frown. "And who the hell is this Emma person and when exactly did you fall in love with her?"

Just then the doorbell rang, and before he could stop it from happening, that Mrs. Quatrocci woman was inside his home, handing Pam some kind of crispy dessert thing and being invited to stay for dinner.

Rollo pulled Thomas into the living room and looked at his friend, perplexed.

"Since when are you friendly with your neighbors?" he asked. "I thought you had a strict 'no human contact' thing going on."

"I do. At least I did."

Thomas's eyes fell hard on Hairy, who looked up from the slate foyer floor, trembling. Then Thomas headed up the stairs, mumbling, "I got to call some vet in Annapolis about Hairy. If anyone else shows up, don't answer the door."

Emma had been nursing her white wine for an hour, trying to look interested. Trying to stay focused. Trying to stay in the present moment.

On the bright side, Emma had to admit she'd been pleasantly surprised by Digital Phone Man-no, Jason, Jason, Jason, she reminded herself.

Jason was charming and gentlemanly. He'd opened the driver's side door for her in the parking lot and then held out the chair for her at the table.

He was smart-he'd started his own software design company, taken it public, and was now a millionaire.

He was interesting-he had just returned from a safari in Kenya and Tanzania and was building his own vacation cabin in the Garrett County mountains.

He was handsome enough and he had a decent sense of humor, even making light of his traffic court experience.

"With my new wireless headset and voice-activated dialing, I'm going to be the Han Solo of I-695."

So, all these things considered, why did Emma find that she was bored out of her skull?

Oh, damn, damn, damn! The only thing wrong with this man sitting across the table from her was that he wasn't Thomas Tobin. Now how completely insane was that?

"So, I was wondering if you'd like to take a romantic walk along a bed of broken glass, or maybe take a swim with me in the groundwater at the Aberdeen Proving Ground?"

Emma snapped out of her fog, thinking for sure she'd just heard something strange from Digital Phone Man, but she didn't know exactly what because she hadn't been listening to a word he'd said-not one single word the whole night.

"Excuse me?"

He smiled tightly at her. "Forget it."

"Oh."

He laughed, set down his wineglass, and gazed at her across the candlelit table. He really was a nice-looking man.

"You know," he said, "I've never been out with a blowup doll before."

Emma was startled by the hurt in his voice and tensed in her chair. "I'm so sorry," she said, letting out a huge sigh of relief, exasperation, and frustration all tangled up together. "I haven't been good company this evening. I've been distracted and I apologize. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Oh, really?" Jason broke into a wide grin. "Then maybe I can help you out-you've been thinking about some man the whole night."

He reached for his wallet. "All I want to know is why you agreed to this in the first place if you're in love with some guy? Marcus was right-you're very pretty and sweet and I probably would have enjoyed this if you'd actually brought your brain along. What do you say we call it a night?"

Jason DuPont told Emma to head on home by herself and he'd get a taxi straight from the restaurant. He kissed her cheek at the hostess stand, and she felt like a complete witch.

She apologized again, hearing herself say something about the timing, and thanked him again for the drink. Then she drove home like a bat out of hell.

She was in the door by seven, and Beckett jumped off the couch in surprise. "Hey! What-"

"I'm gonna change and play my drums!" she called, bolting up the stairs to her bedroom.

Beckett stood in the foyer with his fists on his hips, the TV Guide dangling from one hand. "That bad, huh? Wait! Where did you put my earplugs? And keep it to a dull pounding, would you? It's a school night and Leelee's got to concentrate on her homework!"