For a beat everything felt poised: the men, the dog bristling and fierce, the three of us in the narrow light. Daniel stepped forward, his phone up. “I’m calling the police,” he said simply. He didn’t sound like he was threatening; he sounded like someone who’d chosen a side.

The dog’s barking stepped up, urgent and fearless, and the two men measured the scene quickly. Sirens threaded through the city soundscape, distant at first but growing closer. The men exchanged a look and, deciding their fight wasn’t worth the risk, retreated into the deeper dark of the alleyways.

By the time the officers and an ambulance arrived, neighbors had spilled into the alley — a young woman with a stroller, a man from the corner store, a mail carrier who’d seen something wrong from the street. The paramedics moved with practiced gentleness while the police officer who had arrived early squinted at the older man and then said his name in a tone that stitched surprise with recognition.

“That’s Thomas Harris,” he said. “We’ve been looking for him. He reported something important last month… then he vanished.”