I bent for the keys because it felt unbearable to leave them on the floor in a house that already made me feel as though I had walked into the middle of someone else’s story. My hand was shaking badly enough that the ring rattled when I picked it up. I could hear whispers upstairs now. More than one voice.
I straightened, slid my hand into my coat pocket for my phone, and moved toward the stairs.
My voice sounded thin and unlike me when I called up the stairwell.
“Hello? I know someone’s here. This is private property.”
Silence.
Then a soft whisper. Another one. Fear moving from person to person overhead like current.
I climbed the first three steps with my phone in my hand, thumb poised over 911.
“I’m calling the police,” I said louder. “You need to come out now.”
The answer that came floated down in a voice so young and frightened it made me stop where I was.
“Please don’t.”
A girl stepped into view at the top of the stairs.