Inside, curled up in a ball with her knees to her chest, was a little girl—maybe seven years old—with tangled brown hair and tear-streaked cheeks.
Her small fists were clenched around crumpled paper and crayons.
“Hi there,” Daniel said softly, crouching down. “I’m Officer Daniel. You’re safe now.”
The girl looked up, trembling. “He… he said he was taking me home… but… but that isn’t my home.”
Daniel swallowed hard.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Lily,” she whispered.
“And where’s home, Lily?”
Her chin quivered. “With my mom.”
Daniel gently took the paper from her hands—it was the same drawing he had seen earlier. The sad face. The word HELP.
“You did a very brave thing,” he told her.
“Will you… take me to my mommy?” she asked, voice cracking.
“Absolutely.”
