I was living in a small rental house with Daphne, who was my girlfriend at the time (current wife). Since I cooked at home frequently, I was very aware of what was being bought and used in the house. I would open a stick of butter, place it on the counter on a butter plate, and return hours later to find it gone. In fact, I would find that 8 or 9+ sticks of butter were being used per week. This observation led me to think, “Man, she really eats a lot of butter.” I was also annoyed because she would always leave the top of the butter jar open. It was one of those lids that slid up and back clockwise. One day, I finally broached the subject. She then admitted that she believed I was consuming an excessive amount of butter and hesitated to address it directly. Now, I’m skeptical of the situation and can’t help but wonder what’s going on. Two days after our conversation, I decided to step outside onto the patio to have a beer. As I glanced back into my house, I noticed my dog on her hind ...
It was the last hour of my shift, the quiet stretch where you start to let your guard down. The calls usually calm down by then. Maybe a noise complaint, maybe a drunk asleep in his car. Nothing that sticks with you. Dispatch came through, voice crackling with static. “Possible child in distress” they said. Anonymous caller. Crying heard inside a home believed to be vacant. I remember the way my stomach sank. Not from fear, but exhaustion. Halloween night always meant prank calls, fake screams, some idiot hiding behind a bush trying to film reactions for the internet. But the dispatcher’s tone changed mid sentence. “Caller said it sounds… muffled. Like someone’s trying to keep the kid quiet.” That sentence killed my hesitation. I threw on my lights and headed out. When I arrived on scene, I radioed over to dispatch. “Dispatch, show me off at the location of the child in distress. I’ll keep you advised.” The house was completely dark. As I walked up the front path, I could hear faint l...