“She called,” her father muttered, sighing. “She told us she thought there was someone under her bed. We told her it was just imagination.”
The officers glanced at one another. Imagination or not, they took protocol seriously. They crouched down to Olivia’s level, offering small, reassuring smiles. “Would you like us to check your room?” one of them asked.
Olivia nodded wordlessly.
The family trailed behind as the officers entered the house. Her bedroom door creaked softly as it opened, revealing a small pink nightlight glowing against the pale walls. The bed sat neatly against the corner, a few dolls lined up on the shelf, and a pile of coloring books stacked on the desk.
“Alright, Olivia,” said the younger officer gently. “Let’s have a look.”
He knelt, crouching low, and flicked his flashlight beneath the bed. Dust bunnies, a few scattered toys, and a forgotten sock stared back. He leaned further, sweeping the light slowly. Nothing.
He straightened up, offering a kind smile. “All clear, sweetheart. Just toys down there.”
Olivia’s face, however, didn’t soften. She looked from him to the bed, as though she still didn’t believe.
The older officer, who had remained quiet, raised a hand slightly, motioning for silence. He had noticed something—something subtle. A sound. The faintest vibration in the floorboards, almost imperceptible. His head tilted.
And then the entire house fell eerily still.
