He threw his door open and ran toward me, ignoring the officer who yelled at him to stay back.

“Sadie,” Wyatt breathed, kneeling in the dirt and pulling me gently into his arms.

“Don’t touch my face, Wyatt,” I whispered, my voice shaking against his chest. “We need the doctors to see the blood exactly like this.”

He nodded, his jaw tight, his hands hovering over my shoulders to shield me from the cold wind.

“They hit her with a brick,” Marcus told the officers, pointing to the grass where the heavy red stone lay.

My father was already on his knees, his hands locked behind his head, his face pressed against the dusty porch floor.

I pointed a trembling hand toward the low basement window.

“There’s someone down there,” I said, my voice cracking under the strain. “Listen to the wood.”

The dull, weak thumping from behind the plywood started again, slower this time.

An officer ran to the side of the house, shining a bright flashlight through the rusted metal grate.

“We need a crowbar round back!” the officer yelled into his shoulder radio. “There’s an elderly man trapped in the crawlspace.”