part2

part1

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.”

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.