They wore dark blue uniforms that smelled like the cold winter rain outside.

The older officer, a man with a gray mustache named Deputy Miller, pulled out a small notepad.

“We got a call about a family disturbance and potential child endangerment,” Miller said.

Leo stood up and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

He spent the next ten minutes explaining everything that had happened at our house.

He told them about the neglect, the locked doors, and how we found Sam.

I watched the younger officer write down every word in his notebook.

“Where are the suspects now?” the younger officer asked.

“They just ran out,” Leo said, turning toward the small plastic table. “They went down to the parking garage.”

He reached his hand out to grab his keys.

His hand hovered over the empty laminate surface.

He frowned and searched the floor around the table.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“My keys,” Leo said, his voice dropping. “They were right here.”

The gray-haired officer looked at the table, then at Leo.

“Are you sure you didn’t put them in your pocket, sir?”