It's not long before a shadow falls over me and I realize the dog isn't my only visitor. I look up and manage a real smile for Beckett. His own face is creased with regret, shoulders hunched, one hand shoved deep into the front pocket of his pants, the other hiding behind his back as if he's afraid to show me what he's holding.

"Trio." He hesitates, sighs. "I'm sorry."

I pat the log I sit on, an invitation he accepts even as he relents, hand coming forward. He bends and ...