Police officers and an ambulance arrived within minutes.

Paramedics wrapped Owen in a blanket and examined him while officers began documenting the backyard, photographing the enclosure, broken padlock, tarp, and everything surrounding the area where I had found him.
Owen never released my hand.
“Please don’t make me go back inside.”

PART 3: The Man at the Gate

“You won’t,” I told him. “You are coming with me, and nobody is asking you to go through that door.”

An officer named Detective Mara Ellis knelt beside the ambulance step.

She had arrived with the first patrol unit and was speaking to Owen as if he had all the time in the world.

“My name is Mara. You’re safe here with your dad. I’m going to ask him a couple of questions while the medics check you. Is that okay?”

Owen watched her badge rather than her face. Finally he nodded. From the far side of the house came a man’s voice, sharp with anger.

“What are you people doing in my yard?”

Curtis stood at the gate, keys in one hand, an expression of outrage on his face.

When he saw Owen sitting in the ambulance, his expression changed to something colder.

“There you are,” he said.

“Your mother has been worried sick.”

The words struck me with such force that I nearly stepped toward him.