Chapter 4 - The silent house
Officer Hayes announced himself twice.
No answer.
The house was small and isolated, sitting beyond an overgrown yard where weeds had nearly swallowed a rusted bicycle.
“Police!”
Silence.
Hayes entered.
The smell reached him first.
Not decomposition.
Something medicinal.
Metallic.
Mixed with spoiled food.
The living room looked poor but cared for.
Children’s drawings covered one wall.
A stack of folded baby clothes sat beside a battered sofa.
There were no beer bottles.
No drug paraphernalia.
No obvious signs of neglect.
Then Hayes noticed the kitchen.
A chair had been knocked over.
A mug lay shattered beneath the table.
A woman was on the floor.
Early thirties.
Pale.
Motionless.
“Ma’am?”
Hayes rushed toward her.
His partner called paramedics.
She was alive.
Barely.
Her breathing was shallow.
Beside her hand lay several objects.
An empty water glass.
A medicine bottle.
A photograph.
And a sealed envelope.
Hayes initially ignored them.
Saving her came first.
But when paramedics arrived and began treating the woman, his flashlight passed over the envelope.
There was something unusual about it.
It was addressed to Grace.
Not an adult.
A seven-year-old child.
Hayes did not open it.
Then he noticed something underneath.
A photograph had slipped partly from beneath the envelope.
It showed Grace’s mother standing beside a man.
Hayes picked it up by the edge.
The man’s face was familiar.
Very familiar.
He looked toward his partner.
“Wait.”
“What?”
Hayes showed him the photograph.
His partner’s expression changed.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“Is that—”
Hayes immediately reached for his radio.
“We need a supervisor here.”
“Why?”
He looked at Grace’s unconscious mother.
May you like
Then back at the photograph.
“Because I think I know who the twins’ father is.”
