“Chloe, no!” Mother screamed, lunging forward to grab her waist.

Chloe struggled against Mother’s grip, her bare feet slipping on the wet tiles near the pool.

“Let me go!” Chloe yelled.

“They took her money!” she screamed to the neighbors.

“They let her burn and they hid it!”

Father moved quickly, his hand reaching out to grab Chloe’s shoulder to pull her back into the house.

But before his fingers could touch her skin, a sharp, loud sound cut through the hot afternoon air.

It was the distant, unmistakable wail of a siren, growing louder as it turned onto our street.

Father froze, his hand suspended in the air.

Mother stopped pulling at Chloe, her arms dropping to her sides.

We all stood frozen on the patio, the sound of the siren echoing off the brick walls of the estate.

The sound got closer, the tires of a heavy vehicle crunching onto the gravel of our long driveway.

Through the side gate, I saw the blue and red lights begin to flash against the green leaves of the oak trees.