Officer Boyd moved into the living room, her eyes scanning the pale green sofa and the neat stacks of magazines on the side table. Everything looked undisturbed, yet the quiet in the house was heavy.
Did you hear that? I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Hear what, ma’am? Boyd asked, turning her head slightly.
A faint, rhythmic thudding came from the rear of the house. It was a dull sound, low and steady, like a heavy coat swinging against a wall inside a dryer.
I stepped over the broken wood on the floor, ignoring the officer’s instruction to stay back. The sound seemed to fade when I stopped moving, then returned after three seconds.
Let my partner check the back rooms first, Boyd said, gesturing to the younger male officer who had followed us inside.
The younger officer, whose name tag read Miller, moved past us with a quiet nod. He carried a heavy black flashlight, though the afternoon sun was still bright outside.
