Inside, a little girl sat on the floor beside a torn blanket. Her knees were scraped, and her cheeks streaked with tears. “Sweetheart,” Erin said softly, kneeling beside her. “Where’s the snake?”
The child shook her head. “It hurts,” she whispered. “Daddy said not to tell.”
Mark looked around the room. There was no sign of an animal. On the couch nearby, a man lay half awake, reeking of alcohol. His name, they would later learn, was Thomas Whitaker. His glare was unfocused, but his words were sharp. “What’s all this noise for?” he slurred.
When the girl tried to move closer to Erin, Thomas barked, “Stay where you are.”
Something inside Erin snapped. She lifted the child gently into her arms and said, “You’re safe now.” The girl clung to her neck, trembling. The truth was becoming painfully clear.
By the time backup arrived, Thomas was in handcuffs, shouting nonsense as officers led him away. The house was sealed as a crime scene. The small child, whose name was Ava Whitaker, was rushed to the local hospital for examination.