One head poked out of the open dumpster—Murphy, Shaw’s charge. Shaw was nowhere to be seen, but Otto figured Shaw was either watching from afar, or he’d be pulling up soon enough. “He’s not here,” Murphy said, glancing around the parking lot furtively, before ducking back into the dumpster. “But he told me he’s fine.” “Is he really?” Caulin wrung his hands. “He hasn’t come back even to sleep, but his things are still there.” “He showed up for his shift at the Wine Shack last night,” a thin omega said. He
