After 10 years in the service, I know the difference between panic and imagination. Children call about all kinds of things: a barking dog, a strange shadow on the wall, or a monster under the bed. Most of the time, fear grows bigger in the dark.
But that night, the voice coming through the line did not sound like a child making up monsters. It sounded like a child trying very hard not to let one hear her.
The voice coming through the line did not sound like a child making up monsters.
The dispatcher patched the call through while I was still shrugging on my jacket.
“My parents aren’t home,” the girl whispered. “They went to a party. Someone is hiding under my bed. Please help me. Please come…”
“Sweetheart, what’s your name?” the dispatcher pressed.
“Mia.”