Chapter 3
The fluorescent lights of the county sheriff's department buzzed with a relentless, sterile hum that grated against Arthur's frayed nerves. He sat on a hard plastic bench, holding a brown paper bag containing the grey stuffed rabbit, while Maya sat beside him, nervously twisting the hem of her striped grey long-sleeve shirt. Her blue jeans were dusted with lint from the car ride, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes.
An officer with a neat mustache and a faded name tag reading Deputy Vance finally emerged from behind a high counter, holding a clipboard. He looked at Arthur and Maya with the practiced, weary expression of a man who spent his days cataloging human misery.
"Mr. Hayes?" Vance called out, his voice carrying easily across the linoleum floor. "Step back into Interview Room Three, please."
Inside the small, windowless room, the air smelled faintly of old coffee and bleach. Arthur placed the brown paper bag gently on the metal table, unrolling the top to reveal the rabbit's grey ears. Vance raised an eyebrow, leaning down to inspect it without touching the fabric.
"You brought us a stuffed animal?" Vance asked, his tone polite but unmistakably skeptical.
"It's not just a toy," Maya interrupted before Arthur could speak. Her voice was steady, surprising both men. "It was left on our porch last night. A year ago, a man showed me that exact toy and threatened my family. We have digital footage from another street matching the man who carries it."
Arthur slid the laptop across the table, opening it to the grainy security still they had found the night before. Vance studied the image, his professional skepticism slowly eroding into cautious concentration. He tapped a pen against his clipboard, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"We've had a string of property intrusions in your neighborhood over the last six months," Vance admitted quietly, tapping the screen. "Nothing stolen, mind you. Just doors tested, windows checked. The homeowners thought it was teenagers playing pranks. But a toy left intentionally... that suggests a personal fixation."
"Fixation on what?" Arthur demanded, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself and reined in his temper. "We are quiet people. Clara passed away a year ago. We keep to ourselves. Who would target my children?"
May you like
"People who operate in the margins, Mr. Hayes," Vance said, closing the laptop gently. "We'll run the fibers from the toy through our lab. We'll pull neighborhood traffic cams from the past forty-eight hours. But I have to be honest with you—without a clear face or an active threat of violence, my hands are tied regarding immediate arrests. I strongly suggest upgrading your home security today. Smart locks, perimeter cameras, motion-activated floodlights."
Leaving the precinct, the morning sunlight felt harsh and uninviting. Arthur gripped the steering wheel of his sedan, the weight of Vance's warning pressing down on his chest. They were officially on their own.
