“His skin is cold and he can’t stop shivering.”

Officer Vance got to his feet, brushing dirt off his knees.

He took a small notebook from his breast pocket and jotted three quick marks on the page.

“Let’s go talk to whoever’s inside,” he said.

We climbed the back porch steps together.

Bass music pulsed through the glass of the sliding kitchen door, jiggling the little brass wind chime hanging from the porch roof.

Officer Vance banged four hard knocks on the glass with his knuckles.