Gabby couldn’t sit still. The weight in her chest wouldn’t let her breathe. She asked the night shift worker to sit with Juno, clocked out without a word, and walked straight to the local police station. Her hands trembled as she recounted everything—every detail—hoping someone would help.
The officer nodded politely until she mentioned the adoption papers. His expression changed. “I don’t think there’s a crime here, miss,” he said, shifting in his seat. “He signed the forms. It’s his dog now.” Gabby felt her patience snap. “It was a dual adoption,” she snapped. “He separated them!”
The officer raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Technically, he didn’t steal anything. You’re better off focusing on getting the other one adopted.” Gabby stared at him, dumbfounded. “Please,” she whispered. “Juniper is out there. That man lied.” But it was no use. He turned back to his computer, already done with her.
Back home, Gabby collapsed onto her couch. Her chest hurt from holding in tears. She sobbed into her sleeves, her mind spinning with fear. Juniper’s face, Josh’s voice, Juno’s cries—they all replayed like a broken record. She didn’t sleep. And when morning came, she dreaded the thought of walking into that shelter again.
When Gabby stepped into the shelter the next morning, the usual chaos greeted her—barking, clanging bowls, busy staff—but one sound was missing. Juno. He lay motionless in his kennel, head down, untouched food in the corner. He hadn’t made a single sound since the night before. Not one.
Gabby crouched beside the bars, whispering his name, offering a treat. Nothing. His ears didn’t twitch. His tail didn’t move. She’d never seen him like this—completely hollowed out. Her heart ached. She couldn’t just wait. If no one else would fix this, she’d have to try herself.
She marched to the admin desk, pulled Josh’s file from the drawer, and spread the forms across the breakroom table. Every field, every scribble—she examined them with a new urgency. Both phone numbers were wrong. That much was clear. Her pulse quickened. She scanned down to the listed address.
Hope surged. Maybe the address was real. She dialed the apartment complex. An admin picked up after a few rings. “Josh Smith?” he repeated, checking something in the system. “No one by that name ever lived here.” Gabby went still. Her skin prickled. He wasn’t careless. He was calculated.
Even the ID he’d given was likely fake. Gabby stared at the forms, her thoughts racing. Josh hadn’t just lied—he’d planned this. He’d wanted Juniper and only Juniper. Her stomach turned. She needed a lead. Anything. And then it hit her: his car. She remembered the battered SUV.
She sprinted to the security office. “Please,” she begged the guard, “can we check the front gate footage from yesterday?” Together, they scanned the timestamp. There—Josh’s SUV turning out of the lot. The footage was grainy, but Gabby squinted and scribbled down what looked like the plate number.