The patrol car rolled slowly down a deserted country road. On either side were stunted trees with bare branches, fences darkened with age and covered with moss.

In the gray twilight of dawn, the outlines of the fences were barely discernible in the pre-dawn fog. Officers Ray Donovan and Adam Miller had just issued a speeding ticket when an alarming call came over the radio:

“Report of a child found alone near the intersection of Eighth and Baxter. Looks scared. No adults nearby.”

They turned onto a narrow dirt road where not even every SUV could pass. The air was cold, damp, penetrating to the bone.

And then they saw her.

For illustrative purpose only
A little girl was standing in the middle of the gravel road. She was wearing slippers, a dark blue sweater, and black pants – clearly too light for this weather.

Her face and hands were covered in dirt, her hair was disheveled, her lips were parted as if she wanted to scream, but her voice would not obey her.

“Help!” she said in a trembling voice, noticing the police officers. “Please… My mother… she’s in the barn!”

Ray slammed on the brakes. Both officers jumped out of the car. The girl ran toward them, sobbing.

“She must be about five,” Miller thought.

“She told me to run,” the girl sobbed. “But I was scared… I thought she was de.ad…”

Ray knelt down in front of the child.

“Quiet, baby. Where is she now?”

For illustrative purpose only
A small hand pointed through the sparse forest.

“There! In the green barn. Please save her!”

There really was an old building visible through the trees – green, slanted, as if about to collapse. The door was closed with two thick chains, fastened with a rusty padlock. The place looked abandoned, but the girl’s fear left no room for doubt.

“We’re checking,” Miller said briefly, speaking into the radio: “Requesting social services and backup. Possible emergency with a child.”

Ray was already heading for the door.

The lock was strong – not the kind that they put in just in case. More like to keep no one in… or out.

“No time to wait,” Ray said.

For illustrative purpose only
They took a crowbar and a sledgehammer out of the trunk. The girl cringed, frantically fiddling with the edge of her sweater.

“Please… hurry…” she whispered. “She’s not responding anymore…”

The first blow sounded dull – metal on metal. The lock held. Miller inserted the crowbar between the doors. A sledgehammer blow, harder. Click. The chain shook weakly. Another blow, and the lock split. The chain fell, clanking on the stones.

“Ready?” Ray asked.

Miller nodded.

They swung the doors open.

The smell of rot and damp hit immediately. As if time had stopped here. And something else – the smell of de.a.th.

Light was shining through a crack in the roof. In the semi-darkness – a woman. Tied to a chair. Her face was bruised, her eyes half-open, expressionless. Her mouth was taped shut. Her hands were tied, the skin around her wrists was inflamed, covered with rope marks.

“Oh my God…” Miller whispered.

“We’re the police,” Ray said softly but firmly. “You’re safe.” The woman tried to speak, but could only sigh hoarsely. Her lips were dry, her tongue wouldn’t obey her.

“Call an ambulance immediately!” Ray barked into the radio.

“Is she okay?!” the girl’s tense voice came from outside again.

“She’s alive, baby. You saved her!”

Zhania fell to her knees and burst into tears.