At the way she held onto me.
At the way her small hands gripped my shirt like she was afraid to let go.
And I didn’t hesitate anymore.
“I’m worried about my daughter,” I said. “Bath time lasts over an hour every night. She’s scared. She said… she said she’s not allowed to talk about it.”
The room went completely silent.
Mark let out a small laugh.
“She’s five,” he said. “She makes things up. It’s just a routine—”
“Sir,” the officer interrupted, “we’ll need you to step aside.”
The smile on Mark’s face faded.
Just a little.
“Is that really necessary?” he asked.
“Yes,” the officer said firmly.
Mark hesitated.
Then stepped back.
The second officer turned to me.
“Ma’am, we’re going to take a look around, if that’s okay.”
I nodded immediately.
“Please.”
They moved toward the hallway.
Toward the bathroom.
My heart started racing again.
Mark stayed in the living room.
But his eyes followed them.
Sharp.
Focused.
Watching.
The officer pushed the bathroom door open.
The light was still on.
Steam lingered in the air.
Everything looked… normal.
Too normal.
Then the officer stepped inside.
Paused.
And leaned down slightly.
“What’s this?” he said.
The second officer joined him.
There was a moment.
A quiet one.
But it stretched.
