“Possible snake attack,” she reported over the radio. “Young child requesting help.”
The two officers exchanged a glance before activating the patrol car lights and heading out.
Rain had started to fall lightly as they drove along the rural road, turning the windshield into a blur of reflections.
“Snake attack?” Grant muttered. “That’s a new one.”
Bennett kept his eyes on the road.
“Whatever it is, that girl sounded terrified.”
The house appeared at the end of a gravel driveway, partly hidden behind overgrown trees and a rusted fence.
Their headlights illuminated a weathered structure with peeling paint.
The front door stood slightly open, swaying with the wind.
Bennett raised a hand for silence as they approached carefully.
Inside, the smell hit them immediately—stale alcohol, spoiled food, and damp air.
Dirty dishes covered the living room table. Empty beer cans and broken furniture were scattered around.
From somewhere deeper inside the house came quiet sobbing.
“Police,” Bennett called firmly. “Is anyone here?”
The crying continued.
They followed the sound down a dark hallway filled with stained walls and crooked photographs.
When they reached the back bedroom, both officers stopped.