The police car crept slowly down Willow Street, its headlights scanning silent yards and squares coated in a light layer of dew.
Maple Grove seemed quiet at that hour, the kind of neighborhood where the porch lights are left off more out of habit than fear.
Officer Mark Harris drove with one hand free, leaning lightly on the wheel, his eyes fixed on every shadow. Beside him, Officer Jepa Cole leaped forward in his seat, alert, his jaw clenched.
The radio crackled softly with dispatch updates, Dapa's calm voice cutting through the static as he lay in bed with the pineapple.
Mark had dreamed enough about law enforcement records to know that silent calls were usually the worst. No screams, just chaos, just a small voice on the other side of his mouth and an indescribable feeling.
He looked back in the direction he was traveling as he slowed toward a small, abandoned house with peeling paint and a porch light that flickered as if it might go out at any moment.
A dog was barking nearby, high-pitched and incessant, as if sensing something was wrong. From inside the patrol car, Dapa's voice could be heard on the radio.
—It's two minutes away. The girl is seven years old. Whoever called said the room was locked.
Jepa exhaled through his nose.
“Two minutes is too long,” she muttered, then touched her ear as Dapa listened directly to her.
“Emma,” Jepa said calmly. “This is Officer Cole. We're almost there. If you hear a knock, don't worry. Just listen. Okay?”
“Yes,” Emma whispered.
When they stopped on the curb, Mark turned off the headlights and both officers got out. The air of the flight was cool, thick with the scent of damp leaves.
The house was dark except for a small light coming from a back room. Mark noticed that the shutters were ajar, as if someone had recently looked in.
He exchanged a quick glance with Jepa before taking the arrow-shaped path toward the porch. Before he could call out to him, Dapa's voice called again.
Emma says Todd got really angry when she asked for his bear pajamas. He told her she didn't need them. Then he changed her bed. She says it looks like she's in trouble.
Yes, he frowned.
—This is the sentence you saw with your son.
Mark knocked firmly. It wasn't aggressive, but it was unmistakable. The sound echoed throughout the house. Slow, heavy footsteps could be heard on the other side.
The door opened just enough to reveal a map. Todd Blake was standing there, wearing dusty work boots and a gray hoodie, his hair disheveled and his eyes tired and wary.
He looked surprised and then irritated, as if the sight of police officers on his porch was a surprise at the end of a long day.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
Mark maпtυvo sυ pυпto пeυtral.
—Sir, we received a 911 call from this address. Is there a girl named Emma here?
Todd raised his eyebrows.
“Emma? Yes, she’s my girlfriend’s daughter.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What is it?”
“Is he okay? Is he here now?” asked Jepa.
"Yes, he's here." Todd crossed his arms defensively. "He didn't call them, did he? He has an overactive imagination. He overreacts to everything."
Mark spoke about it. He took a light step to the side, hopping toward the path.
—We have to see her, sir.
Todd hesitated and looked down the corridor behind him.
“She's sleeping,” he said. “Look, my girlfriend's at work. This is…”
“Sir,” Mark said more firmly. “We’re here because a pineapple called 911 and asked for help. Let’s see how he is.”
Todd reluctantly backed away, muttering under his breath as he walked away. The house smelled faintly of sawdust and cold coffee. The hallway was narrow, lined with photographs that opened haphazardly.
Emma went to the park with her mother. Emma had a high school diploma. Emma smiled despite her missing teeth. Todd was almost on top of them.
As he moved along the corridor, Mark's attention was drawn to something there: hanging high above one of the exterior doors was a heavy metal latch, the kind used in cellars or sheds.
It was fixed on the outside. He slowed his speed, quickening his pulse.
“Jepa,” she murmured, looking at him strangely.
He followed her gaze, her expression.
“There shouldn't be,” she whispered.
Todd focused his attention and immediately stiffened.
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