Officer Daniel Price and his partner exchanged a glance before pulling on protective masks.
The child was sitting quietly near the mailbox, barefoot, her cheeks pale and eyes too serious for someone her age.
“Hi there,” Daniel said softly as he crouched in front of her. “You must be Lily. I am glad you came outside.”
She nodded without speaking.
Inside the house, the atmosphere was heavy and suffocating. The officers moved quickly but carefully. In the bedroom, Lily’s parents lay motionless on the bed. There were no signs of struggle. No overturned furniture. No blood. Just silence, broken by the faint hiss of escaping gas.
The smoke detector above the door was inactive. Its battery compartment was empty.
Firefighters shut off the main gas line and ventilated the house while paramedics rushed the unconscious couple to the hospital. As the ambulance doors closed, Lily tugged gently at a nurse’s sleeve.
“Are they sleeping,” she asked. “Will they wake up?”
The nurse knelt to her level and chose her words with care.
“They are very sick right now,” she said. “But they are getting help.”
What troubled the officers was what they found afterward.