For a split second, the words landed the wrong way. Claire pictured a family pet, some illegal python loose in a bedroom, a child cornered and terrified. But the way the girl said hurts made something colder slide down Claire’s back. Not because the meaning was clear, but because it wasn’t. The uncertainty was its own kind of alarm.
“Sweetheart, what’s your name?” Claire asked, voice low and steady.
The child sniffled hard. “Emily.”
“Emily, are you safe right now?”
A pause. Then, in an even smaller voice, “He’s downstairs… I locked the door but he said it won’t matter.”
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