At 12:17 in the morning, an eight-year-old boy walked into the Westbridge Police Department carrying a newborn baby.

The atmosphere inside the guesthouse instantly turned from a domestic dispute into a full-scale crime scene.

"Noah, what did you just say?" Elena asked, dropping to one knee so she was level with the boy, her eyes locked onto his face.

"He carried her," Noah whimpered, a tear tracing a path through the dirt on his cheek. "I was looking out my bedroom window because the baby was crying. I saw Uncle Daniel carry Auntie Mia like a sack of flour. She wasn't moving her legs. He put her in the back of his grey truck, covered her with a blue tarp, and drove away."

Laura let out a sound that wasn't human—a sharp, strangled wail of pure agony—and collapsed against the doorframe. The patrol officer caught her before she hit the ground, guiding her to a wooden chair.

Daniel turned on his stepson, his face twisting into a mask of pure fury. "Noah, shut your mouth! You were dreaming! You're making things up because you're scared!"

"Back off, Miller!" Elena barked, stepping between Daniel and the boy. She raised her radio to her shoulder. "Dispatch, this is Unit 4. I need crime scene technicians and three additional units to 412 Maple Street immediately. We have a suspected abduction and severe medical emergency. Block off the driveway. No one leaves."

Daniel’s eyes darted toward the open door, his body tensing as if he were preparing to bolt through the hedges into the dark neighborhood.

"I wouldn't," Elena warned, her hand unholstering her Glock and keeping it trained on his chest. "Put your hands behind your back. Now."

"On what grounds?!" Daniel sneered, though his cheeks were pale and slick with sweat. "I haven't committed a crime! I helped a pregnant homeless woman!"

"You lied to law enforcement during an active missing persons investigation," Elena said coldly, stepping behind him and forcing his wrists together. The steel cuffs clicked shut with a sharp, heavy snap. "You concealed a high-risk birth, and your stepson just placed you at the scene of an abduction of a critically bleeding mother."

As the patrol officers led a cursing Daniel toward the back of a squad car, Elena ran out to the driveway.

Parked beside Laura’s SUV was Daniel’s grey Ford F-150.

Elena pulled a high-powered tactical flashlight from her belt and clicked it on, sweeping the bright white beam across the vehicle. The bed of the truck was empty, save for a few rusted tools and a bag of lawn fertilizer. But when she shone the light onto the inner ledge of the tailgate, her breath hitched.