PART2
Daniel kept his eyes on him.
—”We received a 911 call from this address.”
The man’s face barely shifted.
—”Then someone made a mistake.”
—”A little girl called,” Daniel said.
That was when María saw it.
It lasted less than a second. A flicker in his eyes. Not confusion.
Recognition.
—”My daughter is asleep,” the man said quickly. “I’m Thomas Miller.”
Then, from the staircase behind him, came the smallest sound in the world.
A broken little sob.
All three turned.
A girl stood halfway up the stairs in pink pajamas, clutching an old stuffed rabbit so tightly its ear was bent flat in her fist. She looked about eight. Her face was swollen from crying. Her hands were trembling.
And she would not look at her father.
—”Daddy…” she whispered.
That was enough for María.
She stepped past the doorway.
Thomas moved to block her.
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