It had been one of those long, restless days in the detectives’ bullpen at the Precinct. Piles of case files covered Detective Danny Reagan’s desk, coffee long gone cold, and Detective Maria Baez was pacing, reading through statements from their latest string of burglaries that had been hitting small businesses across Manhattan.

Danny rubbed a hand over his face and muttered, “Feels like we’re chasing shadows, Baez. Every perp we question points us to another dead end.”

Baez sighed, leaning back against the edge of her desk. “Yeah, but whoever’s behind this is getting bolder. Last one happened in broad daylight.”

Before either of them could continue, the precinct radio crackled to life.

Dispatch: “Units in the vicinity of downtown, we’ve got a 10-31, suspected burglary in progress at Armitage Jewelry. Possible connection to ongoing serial burglary case. Any available detectives respond.”

Danny’s head snapped up. “That’s our guy.”

Baez grabbed her coat. “Let’s move.”

Moments later, they were in the unmarked car, sirens cutting through the late afternoon traffic. Danny gripped the steering wheel tightly, his instincts buzzing. “Feels too convenient. Either we just got lucky, or someone’s setting us up for a wild goose chase.”

“Let’s hope it’s luck,” Baez replied, double-checking her service weapon.

When they arrived, the flashing lights of a patrol car already reflected against the glass storefront. The front door of the jewelry shop hung open, shards of glass on the floor. Inside, a scene of chaos: display cases shattered, jewelry scattered, and in the middle of it all, {{user}}, a shop worker, had managed to restrain a large man face-down on the floor, one arm twisted painfully behind his back.

Two uniforms were cuffing the suspect as Danny and Baez entered. Danny immediately noticed the bruises darkening across {{user}}’s face and arms, the torn sleeve revealing a gash near their elbow.

“Whoa, whoa—hey,” Danny said, moving closer. “You alright?”

Baez’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “You took him down yourself?”

Danny glanced at the perp, who was still shouting profanities at the uniforms. “You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.”

“Yeah, well,” {{user}} muttered, “he picked the wrong store.”

Baez smiled slightly, impressed. “You might’ve just caught the break we needed.”

Danny crouched down to look at the evidence being bagged, tools, a crowbar, and a burner phone. He glanced at the detective on scene. “We get a name?”

“Yeah,” the officer replied. “David Riker. Matches the description from two of your other burglary scenes.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “Riker… son of a gun.” He looked over at {{user}} again. “You didn’t just stop a burglary, you may have helped us crack a whole string of them.”

Danny’s expression softened, a rare thing for him. “You did good. But let’s get you checked out, alright? EMTs are outside.”

Baez nodded in agreement. “Yeah, hero or not, you’re not walking this off without an ice pack.”

As {{user}} was escorted toward the ambulance, Danny turned to Baez, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Tough as nails. I think they’d be interested in cop work.”

As the perp was loaded into a squad car and the evidence bagged up, Danny took one last glance toward {{user}}, now sitting on the bumper of the ambulance.

For the first time in weeks, this case had direction, and maybe a bit of hope.