Daniels hesitated, then sat across from me. “Still being processed,” he said. Then, as if bracing for a cold plunge, he drew a long breath. “I arrested the wrong kid.”For a second, I couldn’t breathe. “What are you saying?”

“The evidence in Ricky’s bag—it was planted,” he said. “I didn’t catch it at first. But something felt off. I pulled the park’s security footage. Someone slipped the item into his backpack. That someone was Troy Baxter.”

The name hit like a gut punch. Troy had been Ricky’s closest friend—until a few months ago, when Ricky started pulling away. He’d told me Troy was falling in with the wrong crowd. I never thought it would come to this.

“Why would he do that?” I whispered.

Daniels shook his head. “We’re still piecing it together, but it looks like Troy was pressured by older kids—maybe even threatened. He’s confessed, and we’re questioning him further.”

“Can you get Ricky out now?” I asked.

“That’s why I’m here,” Daniels said, standing. “I’m going to clear his name tonight.”

It was past midnight when my phone finally rang. “Ms. Halloway? It’s Daniels. We’re bringing Ricky home.”Twenty minutes later, the squad car returned. This time, when the door opened, Ricky stepped out—exhausted, shaken, but free. He ran into my arms, sobbing into my coat.

“I didn’t do anything, Grandma,” he cried. “I swear.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I whispered. “I never doubted you.”

Daniels lingered on the porch. “Troy admitted everything,” he said quietly. “He was used by a group that’s been targeting vulnerable kids for months. Ricky’s case gave us the break we needed.”