—”Emily, are you alone right now?”

The child sucked in a shaky breath.

—”No… he’s in the house…”

Claire’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

—”Emily, I need you to stay as quiet as you can. Can you tell me where you are?”

A door thudded somewhere in the background. Then footsteps.

The girl began whispering faster, like she was running out of time.

—”Daddy said not to talk to anybody… but it hurts… it hurts…”

The address flashed onto Claire’s screen from the emergency trace. 1427 Maplewood Drive.

She dispatched the nearest patrol immediately.

—”Possible child in distress. Caller is a juvenile female. Adult male still inside the residence. Unit 24 respond now.”

Officer Daniel Harris acknowledged first. His partner, María López, was already turning the patrol car down Elm before the dispatcher had finished reading the address.

Claire kept the child talking.

—”Emily, listen to me. The police are on the way. They’re coming right now.”

A tiny sob crackled through the speaker.

—”He’s coming up the stairs…”

Claire’s heart slammed once against her ribs.

—”Emily—”

The line went dead.

By the time Daniel and María pulled onto Maplewood Drive, the whole street looked painfully normal. Porch lights glowed warm against neat lawns. A white fence lined the front of the house. A swing set stood motionless in the backyard.

It looked like the kind of place where children left bicycles in the grass and neighbors borrowed sugar.

That was what made it worse.

María knocked first.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Then the door opened.

A tall man in his forties stood there in jeans and a gray T-shirt, his expression calm enough to seem practiced.

—”Evening, officers.”