The officer stepped forward.
Rex moved first.
Not attacking.
Just sniffing.
He slid his nose under the boy’s shirt and touched one of the wounds on his back.
Mason gasped softly.
Very softly.
But it was enough.
The officer heard it.
“Kid,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”
Mason couldn’t.
Angela spoke quickly.
“He’s shy. Ever since his mother died he’s been… difficult.”
The officer ignored her.
“Kid. Look at me.”
Slowly, Mason raised his face.
Rex sat beside him, leaning gently against his leg.
The officer saw the split lip, the swollen ear, the marks beneath his jaw.
And he understood.
Sometimes the truth is obvious the moment someone finally decides to look.
“Davis,” he said to the other officer without turning away. “Call Child Protective Services. Now.”
Angela stepped forward.
“This is a ridiculous misunderstanding.”
Rex stood.
He didn’t bark.
He simply placed himself between her and the boy.
Davis was already speaking into the radio.
Angela forced a smile.
“That dog is aggressive. The boy lies.”
Just then Lily appeared on the porch holding her doll.
No one expected her to say anything.
But she did.
“He’s not lying,” she said.
Angela went pale.
“Lily, go inside.”
The girl hugged her doll tighter.