I went back into the room alone and lowered myself onto one knee beside the bed. Something still didn’t feel right. At first, all I saw was darkness. Dust near the baseboard. A dropped sock. The edge of a board game box.
Then I heard it. A faint sound. Not a growl. Not a scrape. Just the smallest catch of breath, like someone trying very hard to stay still. Every muscle in my back went rigid.
“Oh my God,” I said before I could stop myself. Because tucked against the wall under Mia’s bed was not a shadow or a stranger. It was another little girl. She was curled on her side, shivering under a thin yellow sweater. Big, frightened eyes stared back at me through the dimness.
Tucked against the wall under Mia’s bed was not a shadow or a stranger.
“Luis,” I called. “I need you in here.”
Luis appeared in the doorway. I lifted the bed skirt higher. He froze. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The little girl flinched. I softened my voice immediately. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe. Can you come out for me?”
She didn’t answer. She pressed herself tighter into the corner. When I reached a careful hand toward her, I could feel heat before my fingers even touched her sleeve.
“She’s burning up,” I said.
Together, Luis and I eased the girl out. She was smaller than I expected, limp with fear and fever. Dana stepped in, saw the child in my arms, and stopped cold.
“She’s burning up.”
For one split second, nobody said a word because none of us had expected to find another child hidden there.
Then Mia gasped from the hall. “That’s the girl.”
We brought the child downstairs and settled her on the couch. I crouched in front of her and tried the simplest questions first.
“What’s your name?” I urged.
The girl said nothing.
“Can you tell me where your mom is?” I pressed again.
Still nothing.
“That’s the girl.”
Her eyes flickered from my face to my hands. Then she lifted her fingers and began moving them quickly.
Dana saw it first. “Kevin, she uses sign language.”
The girl’s hands moved faster when she saw we didn’t understand. Not wild, just urgent, like she was trying to climb over a wall built out of our confusion. Dana knew enough to catch fragments. “Scared. Bed. Hid. Girl moved. She hid.”
Mia took one small step closer. “I dropped Teddy. When I bent down, I saw her eyes looking at me.”
No wonder the poor kid had panicked.
“Kevin, she uses sign language.”
The girl signed again, then pointed suddenly toward the front door. I followed the motion. “Someone outside?”
She nodded, then shook her head, frustrated.
Luis muttered, “We’re missing something.”
The girl slipped off the couch and hurried to the entryway, still wrapped in the blanket, pointing at the door over and over. And for one uneasy second, the tension rose all over again, because we still had no idea how she had gotten into that house.
Then the front doorknob turned.
A woman burst in, holding a small pharmacy bag. The second she saw the girl by the door, everything else vanished for her.
“We’re missing something.”
“Polly!” she screamed.
The little girl ran to her and clung to her legs. The woman dropped to her knees and gathered Polly up, pressing frantic kisses into the top of her hair. Then she looked up at us, at Mia, at the blanket, and I watched the truth arrange itself behind her eyes.
“Oh no,” the woman whispered.
“You’re her mother?” Dana asked.
“Yes. I’m Marisol. I’m Mia’s nanny.”
Mia looked from her to me and said quietly, “You left me, Miss Marie?”
“You’re her mother?”
Marisol’s eyes filled. “I only went to the pharmacy nearby, sweetie. Polly was burning up, my mother was out of town for a funeral, and I had no one else. I brought her with me. Since you were already asleep in your room, I told Polly to stay in the kitchen. She can’t talk, she uses sign language, so I thought she’d stay put. I told her I’d be right back.”
“And your daughter wandered upstairs,” Luis said.
Marisol covered her mouth. The explanation came fast, but it didn’t erase the fact that both children had been alone.
I turned to her. “You left two children alone in this house.”
Marisol’s eyes dropped. “I know… I’m sorry. The pharmacy was just on the next block, and I thought I’d be back before Mia even noticed I was gone.”
“You left two children alone in this house.”
“Do you understand what could have happened here?” I snapped.
Tears gathered in her eyelashes. “Yes.”
Behind me, Mia said softly, “I thought someone bad was under my bed.”
Marisol looked at her, stricken. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Once Polly’s medicine was down, the rest came together in careful pieces. Polly had wandered upstairs after spotting Mia’s dolls. When Mia stirred in bed, Polly panicked and hid. Mia woke, dropped her teddy, bent to grab it, and saw a pair of eyes looking back at her from the dark.
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