He disappeared from view.
Melissa looked toward the house.
“Please,” she whispered. “He shouldn’t see this.”
That sentence frightened me more than anything she had said before.
I placed the bag on the grass and reached for the zipper.
Melissa grabbed my wrist.
I pulled away hard.
“Don’t touch me!”
Then I heard them.
Sirens.
They were coming from the end of the street.
Melissa closed her eyes.
For one brief second, she looked relieved.
Then she sank onto the bench.
The first officer entered through the side gate with one hand near his holster. His partner followed closely behind.
“Step away from the bag,” the officer ordered.
I immediately raised both hands.
Melissa remained seated.
The officers separated us.
One led me toward the back door while the other stayed with Melissa.
“My son is inside,” I said quickly. “He’s seven. His name is Ethan.”
“Is anyone else in the house?”
