“In there,” she sobbed. “He’s in there. Marcus has him.”
“Who is Marcus?”
“My ex. He came in. He smashed my phone. He locked him in the back. Please. My baby’s only six.”
Jenna was already on the radio.
“Dispatch, Unit 18. We have a possible domestic violence incident, child in immediate danger, 1419 Mariposa Lane. Suspect may still be inside. Send backup and EMS. We have one adult female outside, highly distressed.”
Nathan guided the woman toward the side of a parked car and lowered his voice.
“What’s your name?”
“Elena,” she said, struggling to breathe. “Elena Ramos.”
“Elena, look at me. Are you bleeding?”
She looked down at the stain, then shook her head again, crying harder.
“It’s sauce. It’s spaghetti sauce. I was making dinner. He threw the plate. He came in and he—please, you have to get Mateo. He’s in the laundry room. I told him to hide.”
The word sauce registered, but Nathan did not let it slow him. Red stain, not blood. That was good. But the rest was worse.
A six-year-old child was inside with an unstable adult.
A front door had been forced or left open.
A mother had fled the house with a bat and run straight to police.
Those facts formed faster than any complete story could.
“Is Marcus armed?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t know,” Elena said. “I don’t know. He took my phone. He was screaming. He said I wasn’t taking his son away from him.”
Jenna looked at Nathan.
He saw the same decision in her face.
They did not have time to wait for backup.
Nathan turned to Elena.
“Stay here. Do not go back inside. Officers are coming. Do you understand?”
“No,” she cried, grabbing his sleeve. “No, please, please don’t leave him.”
“We’re going to him,” Nathan said. “But you stay here.”
Jenna pointed to a neighbor who had stepped out onto his porch in a gray tank top and shorts, phone in hand.
“You,” she called. “Sir. Stay right there. Do not enter the house. Watch her until backup arrives.”
The man nodded quickly, fear and confusion on his face.
Nathan and Jenna moved toward the duplex together.
They did not run blindly. Running into a domestic scene can get everyone killed. They moved fast, but controlled. Nathan took the left side of the narrow walkway. Jenna took the right, flashlight angled low, eyes moving from the open door to the windows to the side yard fence.
The baseball bat remained behind them on the sidewalk.
Elena’s sobs followed them for several steps.
“Please save my son!”