Two officers ran up to the Millers’ front porch while three others surrounded our house.

I opened the door for them, my hands shaking so much I could barely turn the knob.

“My husband is inside,” I told the lead officer, a woman with a stern face and a silver badge. “He has been hiding his mother, and he’s… he’s done something terrible.”

“Is anyone else in the house?” she asked, her notepad ready.

“Just him. And his mother, Eleanor, might be in the basement or the hidden room,” I said.

The officers nodded and moved toward our driveway with their flashlights drawn.

I watched from the window as they knocked on our front door.

The house was dark again.

Nathan didn’t answer.

After a few moments, the officers used a ram to break through the front door.

The sound of splintering wood carried across the quiet lawn.

I sat on the Millers’ sofa, holding Lily close to my chest.

She had stopped crying, but her small body was rigid.

“He’s not going to hurt us anymore,” I whispered into her hair.