It was a punishingly cold night in February when Jake said goodbye to the only creature he’d ever loved and been loved by in return. After months on the run, cash was hard to come by and he could no longer risk being recognized in the supermarket when he managed to scrounge up enough change for a bag of dog food. He saw the posters almost daily now, sketches of his face just below the words “WANTED: Jacob Bradley Owens. Violent and dangerous. If seen, call 911 immediately. Do not approach.” To his benefit, trying to go undetected and all, the sketch artists never got his nose quite right. It had hooked slightly to the right ever since a particularly hard backhanded blow when he was eleven. The man responsible for his nose’s distinctive lean had gotten his justice already, if there was such a thing in the world.

In the quiet hours between night and morning - he never quite knew the exact time anymore - Jake crouched down behind a ragged bush next to the concrete staircase that led to the police station’s entrance. His view lit only by a flickering streetlight teeming with moths, he scrawled a note on a fast food napkin. “Please take care of her” it read. After a pause, he added “Sorry I couldn’t”. Cola, the black lab mix, was pacing anxiously, her hot breath visible in the frigid air. She’d always been acutely aware of her surroundings - a trait that had once helped Jake narrowly escape a run in with a wannabe detective who had been following them in hopes of nabbing Jake himself. He gave her a pet on the head and looked into her glassy black eyes one last time. “Sorry you got such a shitty owner. I hope the next one is better. And don’t rat me out when you get in there.” He added, smirking.

He tipped his hat low, put his hood up, and led Cola down the stairs towards the station. For a minute, he considered going in with her. He’d been so tired for so long, the thought of a cell offered nearly as much relief as it did fear. But his work wasn’t done yet. There were six more names on his list. As they crossed his mind, his whole body tensed, and he knew he’d never find repose as long as those people were out there doing the things they did. He peered stealthily into the window and when he was sure nobody was looking out, he looped Cola’s frayed rope leash through the door handle, napkin note tucked safely in her collar, and rapped loudly on the glass. By the time anyone looked up to see what the noise was, he’d bolted far into the darkness. From here on out, he’d be going it alone.