She'd been shot in the back of the head.I was told later that she'd been dead for several hours. I'd been in the shelter when she died. I'd been late,...but I couldn't help it. The cowards hadn't even had the balls to face her when they pulled the trigger.The ME didn't tell me, but I heard it from someone else: she'd been tortured, too. Now what was the point? Revolutionary Justice—that's what they'd call it—would account for the bullet. But to do those other things to her? That smacked of. Zelnick had chaired of the block club for decades.She was right; a police complaint from George Verrano had led to a bored patrolman visiting him, petting Yeti, and writing up a report that he didn’t hear any loud and continuous barking. The cop had considered the few yelps with which Yeti had greeted him as justifiable friendliness.Mr. Verrano was keeping a record, though, every time he heard Yeti bark, when he started, and when he ended. Jack could see the school notebook with the record. More

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