Parker quickly motioned for Rodriguez to call it in. Eleanor clutched her chest, whispering, “Oh my goodness.”

With a crowbar borrowed from the patrol car, they pried the cellar door open. A waft of damp air escaped, followed by the unmistakable sound of a child sobbing.

Flashlights revealed a little girl, no older than six, sitting on an old blanket. Her eyes were wide, cheeks streaked with tears, but she looked up at them with a mixture of fear and relief.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Parker said gently, lowering himself to her level. “We’re the police. You’re safe now.”

The girl trembled but didn’t resist when Kelly reached for her hand.

Eleanor gasped. “Oh, that poor child…”