When I discovered thirty red spots that looked like insect eggs on my husband’s back, I panicked and rushed him to the emergency room — only for the doctor to take one look and say, “Call the police.”

When I lifted my husband’s shirt that morning, I expected to find a rash, maybe a few insect bites. Instead, I found thirty perfect red dots forming a neat pattern across his upper back. They shimmered faintly, like tiny glass beads. My stomach twisted. “Oliver, don’t move,” I whispered.

He chuckled at first, thinking I was joking, but the look on my face wiped the smile from his lips. Within half an hour, we were at the emergency department of St. Benedict Hospital. I showed the nurse the photos I had taken. Each red spot had a dark speck in its center, almost mechanical in symmetry.

The nurse’s expression changed. Without saying a word, she excused herself and brought back a doctor. He studied Oliver’s back for a few seconds, then said in a measured voice, “Call security. And contact local law enforcement immediately.”

I stared at him, confused. “What is happening? Are those bites?”

He didn’t answer. Two uniformed officers arrived soon after, their faces grim. One began asking questions while the other examined Oliver’s skin.

“Has your husband been anywhere unusual recently?” the officer asked. “A factory, construction site, or medical facility?”