Chapter 3 — The Pink Quilt and the Trembling Hands
Mia sat cross-legged on her bedroom rug, wearing pajamas covered in tiny moons, clutching her stuffed bear like a shield. She didn’t run to the officers. She only pointed—to the small bed with the pink quilt folded neatly at the corner.
“The voice is from there,” she whispered. “Underneath.”
Officer Patel knelt, lifted the bed skirt, and shone his flashlight. Dust bunnies. A crayon. A marble. Nothing unusual. He straightened, ready to give a gentle talk about shadows and stories.
“Looks clear, kiddo,” he began.
