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“Mind if we take a look at that truck?” Harris asked. “Check for blood, fibers—whatever’s left from your little late-night field trip?”

“Go ahead,” Daniel said. “You’ll find dog hair and maybe coffee stains. Some spare change in the cupholders. That’s it.”

Joel shut the folder with a quiet snap. “Look, this isn’t about pinning anything on you. Someone wanted Tate Emery dead. Snuck up on him and attacked him beside his car. And someone might want to make you look guilty in the process.”

Daniel felt the cold settle in his chest. “Because it gets me out of the way. Leaves Polly unprotected.”

Joel’s expression hardened. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Daniel turned to the detective who was actually listening to what he had to say. “Polly and that patient at the clinic described a man in a hoodie with a stocking cap and a scarf tied around his neck to mask his face. Check the parking garage cameras to see if anyone matching that description was in the garage—waiting near Emery’s car or following him.”

Harris let out a skeptical laugh. “So now we’ve got a grand conspiracy? Some faceless guy in a hoodie framing you to get to your girlfriend?”

Daniel leaned forward, his voice low and steady. He hadn’t liked Emery, but the guy might be an innocent victim, after all. “You’re damn right. That’s exactly what I think. This guy is playing the long game. He’s been watching Polly and harassing her for months. He figured out how to get into her apartment without anyone knowing. He’s patient. Obsessed. He killed a man to borrow his car—or maybe to silence an accomplice. Now he’s killed another man to frame me.”

Before Harris could respond, the door swung open and a uniformed officer stepped inside. “Detective Standage—Sergeant Burke’s on the line. Says it’s urgent.”

Joel stood, glancing between them. “Stay put. Don’t say another word ’til I get back.”

Daniel locked eyes with Harris. “You keep needling me about anger issues—but let me tell you something. The man who killed Tate Emery isn’t done. And when he comes after her, you’ll wish you’d listened to me sooner. If anything happens to Polly Cooper, it’ll be on your head.”

For the first time, Harris’s smirk faltered.

The door shut behind Joel, leaving Daniel with Harris and the buzz of the overhead light. The detective sat and shifted his weight in his chair, arms folded, watching Daniel the way he’d watch a caged animal.

Daniel kept his voice calm, though every muscle in his body screamed to move. Breathe. Stay steady. He focused on the sound of Pirate’s training commands looping through his head—Steady, Calm, Obey.

Muffled voices came from the hallway—Joel’s low and urgent. Then he heard hurried footsteps, and the door swung open again.

Joel’s face was pale, the tight control in his tone barely masking the alarm underneath. “Daniel—Burke just called. Polly’s missing.”

Daniel was on his feet before the words finished leaving Joel’s mouth. “What do you mean missing?”

Joel raised a hand. “Listen to me. He dropped her off at her apartment about forty minutes ago. She told him she wanted to grab some clean clothes, put Luna in her crate, then head over to the clinic. He said by the time he dropped her off, parked his SUV and headed upstairs, she was gone. When he got there, the door was open. Luna was inside, scared and whining. But Polly was gone.”

Daniel felt his pulse roar in his ears. “The perp was already there. Waiting for her.”

“That’s what it looks like,” Joel said grimly. “Burke and Gunny have already searched the building. There’s no sign of her.”

Daniel’s chair scraped against the floor as he moved toward the door. “Then what the hell am I still doing here?”

“Daniel,” Joel warned, “you can’t just walk out—”

“The hell I can’t.” Daniel turned on him, eyes blazing. “Am I under arrest?”

Joel hesitated a fraction of a second, then shook his head. “No.”

“Then I’m done talking.”

Harris stepped into his path. “You walk out that door, Travis, and I’ll make sure every cop in the city knows to pick you up for obstruction.”

Daniel took a single, deliberate step closer, his voice like a growl. “Charge me or get out of my way. A woman’s been taken—my woman. You waste one more minute on me, and you’ll be writing her eulogy instead of your damn report.”

For once, Harris didn’t have a comeback.

Joel swore softly and grabbed his coat. “Wait. You need a ride. I’m coming with you. If Burke’s on scene, we’ll coordinate the search.”

Daniel nodded once, sharp and fast. “Then move.”