Before either of us could make sense of it, he seized my purse in his mouth and sprinted off.

“Hey!” I cried. My voice cracked on the word. Daniel was already up, his long legs eating the pavement. The dog ran fast but not like an escapee — he kept glancing back, urging us to follow.

We did. The chase led us along winding pathways until the bustling sounds of the park dimmed, and tall oaks knitted their branches overhead.

The path funneled into a narrow alley between two aging brick buildings. Damp stones and a faint metallic tang in the air suggested rain that had long since dried. The dog dropped the purse gently onto the ground and sat, panting, as if presenting an offering.

I stepped forward and reached for my purse, relief and embarrassment knotting together. Then something moved in the shadow behind it. A low, stifled groan broke the hush.

“Did you hear that?” Daniel asked.