The rear door gapes open onto the alley, yellow light slicing rain into gold bars. Adelaide Wren freezes at the black sedan, keys caught in her fist, the ledger still tight against Dallas’s hand.

Murderbone plants himself between Dallas and the car, a low growl rolling out of him. Wren’s eyes flick to the dog, then to the open alley, measuring escape and finding none.

Dallas steps in, ledger forward, revolver ready at his side. Wren’s face hardens, but her grip slips on the keys. The sedan idles, headlights washing her gray coat in a dead white glare.

Dallas closes the last few feet. The alley goes silent except for rain, engine, and Murderbone’s breathing. The final trail has led here, to Wren, to the car, to the end of the name that touched his daughter.

Murderbone launches at the keys. Wren jerks back, but the dog’s shoulder slams her wrist and the metal bites out of her fist into the rain.

The keys skid across the wet bricks and stop at Dallas’s boot. The sedan’s engine keeps idling, useless now, while Wren stares at her empty hand.

Murderbone plants himself between Wren and the car again, teeth bared, forcing her to freeze in place.

Rain hisses on the scattered papers as Dallas picks up the keys and closes his hand around them. Wren’s gaze darts from him to the open alley, then back to the dog.