The officers loosened their grip slightly as the thin, exhausted young man stared at the ground. Mark looked between them, his disbelief slowly softening. “Sabrina,” he said quietly, “who is he?” “His name is Dylan,” she murmured. “He’s twenty. I raised him alone until he disappeared a few years ago. Drugs… bad choices… he cut me off. I thought he was gone for good.”
She wiped her eyes. “Three weeks ago he showed up here in the middle of the night. Scared. Hungry. I panicked. I let him stay in the attic. I just—couldn’t tell you yet.” Mark exhaled sharply. “You hid him here? While Kayla was babysitting? While Tommy was in the house?” She winced.