“My tummy hurts. It feels tight. I drank water, but it tasted weird.”
Owen didn’t hesitate. He flagged a unit, then softened his tone until it felt like a blanket wrapped around every word.
“Listen to me, Lily. Officer Tessa Lane is coming to you right now. She’s kind, and she’s going to help. Can you stay on the line with me?”
“Okay,” Lily whispered. “Okay.”
Across town, tires hissed on wet pavement as a patrol car turned onto Maple Run with its lights low but urgent—like it didn’t want to scare the night any more than it already had.
Tessa slowed when she saw the house.
It wasn’t collapsing. It wasn’t splashed across headlines in a way that screamed disaster. It was modest and pale-yellow and ordinary—except it looked forgotten in a way that made your stomach sink. Newspapers clung to the porch steps like soggy leaves. The porch light flickered, failing, like it had been trying to stay awake for days.
Tessa climbed the steps and knocked gently.
“Lily? It’s Officer Lane. I’m here to help.”
Inside, a soft shuffle. A pause.
The door cracked open only a few inches. One blue eye appeared—wide, careful, exhausted.
“Are you real?” a tiny voice asked.
Tessa lowered herself into a crouch, palms open, voice calm.
“I’m real. And you’re not in trouble.”
The door opened wider.
Lily stood barefoot on cold wood floors, swallowed by an oversized T-shirt that had once belonged to an adult. Under one arm, she clutched a worn stuffed dog with one droopy ear—Mr. Buttons—like it was the only thing keeping her from floating away.
Her cheeks looked hollow. Her stomach pushed rounded and tense beneath the fabric. Her hands trembled, but she didn’t let go.
“You did the right thing calling,” Tessa said softly. “Can I come in?”
Lily nodded and stepped back.
