The struggle lasted maybe fifteen seconds.
It felt longer.
Finally, Nathan and Jenna got him cuffed, rolled him onto his side, and pulled him away from the laundry room door.
Marcus kept talking.
“She did this. She did all this. She’s crazy. You don’t know her. You don’t know what she’s like.”
Jenna stood, breathing hard, then looked at Nathan.
“I’ve got him.”
Nathan moved immediately to the laundry room door.
“Mateo,” he said, voice lower now, softer. “Buddy, it’s Officer Cole. Your mom sent us. Can I open the door?”
No answer except crying.
Nathan tried the knob.
Locked.
“Elena said he locked him in,” Jenna said from behind him.
Nathan looked at the simple interior lock.
He used a small tool from his belt and popped it in seconds.
The door opened inward.
Mateo was crouched between a laundry basket and the water heater, knees pulled to his chest, both hands clamped over his ears. He wore blue pajama pants with little dinosaurs on them and one white sock. His cheeks were wet. His face was red. His whole body trembled in small, uncontrollable waves.
When Nathan opened the door, Mateo flinched so hard he hit his shoulder against the washing machine.
“Hey,” Nathan said gently, lowering himself. “Hey, buddy. You’re okay. I’m Officer Nathan. Your mom sent us.”
Mateo stared at him.
“Mommy?”
“She’s outside,” Nathan said. “She’s okay. She’s waiting for you.”
Mateo’s face crumpled.
Nathan held out both hands.
“You want to come with me?”
The boy hesitated for less than a second.
Then he crawled into Nathan’s arms.
That was the moment Nathan’s anger became something heavier.
A six-year-old child should not have to choose the arms of a stranger because the people inside his house have made hiding feel safer than home.
Nathan lifted him carefully.
As he carried Mateo through the hallway, Marcus turned his head from the living room floor.
“Mateo,” Marcus said, suddenly softer. “Buddy, tell them. Tell them Daddy didn’t—”
Mateo buried his face in Nathan’s shoulder and began sobbing harder.