Max was no longer looking at him. His gaze was locked on a man standing ten feet away—Officer Jenkins, tall and stiff, hands clasped behind his back. The growl deepened, teeth flashed in a silent warning.
Guards shifted uneasily. «Control your dog,» one muttered, stepping forward. But Daniel placed a hand on Max’s back.
«Easy, boy,» he whispered. «It’s okay.» It was not okay.
Max had never growled like this without reason. Jenkins avoided eye contact, his jaw tight. Daniel’s mind raced.
He knew his dog’s instincts, and Max was never wrong. For the first time that morning, curiosity stirred. Something about Jenkins was setting Max off.
In a place where every second counted, a dog’s instincts could mean everything. Max stayed tense, body angled toward the gate where Jenkins had vanished. Officer Ramirez, a guard who had always treated Daniel with quiet respect, approached.
«Your dog’s got a good nose,» Ramirez said softly. «What’s his problem with Jenkins?» Daniel shrugged, careful not to show too much.
«Max doesn’t growl at strangers for fun,» he replied. Ramirez frowned. «Funny thing—Jenkins was on duty the night you were arrested, but he never reported it.»
The words hung heavy. Daniel kept his eyes on Max, but his mind was racing. If Jenkins had been there, why was it not in the report?
As if summoned, Jenkins reappeared at the far end of the yard. Max’s growl returned, sharp and unrelenting. Ramirez’s eyes narrowed.
«That’s not normal,» he said. The warden, watching from the tower, called down, «What’s going on?»
No one answered. The air was charged. Something unspoken was circling.
Daniel knew one thing: this was not just a goodbye. It was the beginning of something else. If Max was right, this yard was not a place of endings—it was about to become a battlefield for the truth.
Later that afternoon, the warden summoned Daniel to a small interview room. Max was allowed to stay, still watching the door like a sentinel. Ramirez stood in the corner, arms crossed, while Jenkins stood across from them, stiff, eyes cold.
The warden spoke. «Jenkins, why didn’t you disclose that you were on site the night of Daniel’s arrest?» Jenkins’ jaw tightened.
«Didn’t think it mattered,» he said. «I was off duty, just passing by.» Max let out a sharp bark, loud and sudden, his eyes locked on Jenkins, growl rising like thunder.
Ramirez stepped forward. «Funny, because a witness just came forward,» he said. «They saw a man matching your description leaving Daniel’s house before the police arrived.»
The warden’s expression darkened. «We’re reopening the case,» he announced. «Effective immediately, the execution is delayed.»
Daniel felt the air rush back into his lungs. Not freedom—not yet. But hope.
Jenkins glared at him, but it did not matter. For the first time in years, the truth had a crack to slip through. And it all started with a dog who refused to forget.
The investigation moved quickly. A new witness came forward. Retested fingerprints did not belong to Daniel—they matched Jenkins.
Weeks passed, and more evidence surfaced. Jenkins had been at the scene. He had planted evidence and committed the crime.