“Everyone out!” he shouted into his radio. “Call the fire department—now.”
Outside, Sophie watched the flashing lights approach.
A memory drifted through her mind.
A few days earlier, her mother had mentioned the furnace making strange noises.
Her father had sighed while looking at a stack of bills.
“We’ll deal with it later,” he had said. “Money’s tight right now.”
Inside the Bedroom
Upstairs, the bedroom was eerily quiet.
Sophie’s parents lay in bed, unmoving. There were no signs of violence, no struggle.
But their breathing was faint.
Too faint.
Near the wall, the gas detector sat silent, its battery dead for months.
Paramedics rushed in and carried both parents out on stretchers.
The ambulance lights cut through the darkness as they loaded them inside.
Sophie stepped closer to her mother.
“Are they going to wake up?” she asked quietly.
“We’re going to do everything we can,” a paramedic said gently, squeezing her hand.
But something didn’t feel right.
The gas valve was completely open—far more than normal.
And the ventilation duct had been blocked with a towel, shoved tightly into place.
Officer Ruiz looked at the scene again.
His stomach dropped.
“This wasn’t an accident,” he said.