Not many places to hide. I can see under the beds from where I am. No one’s under there. Not that a soldier would be hiding under a bed. The bathroom door is ajar, and I push it fully open. No one’s behind the shower curtain. No one’s here at all. I walk inside and open the cabinet under the sink, feeling stupid for looking there, but I do it, and it’s empty. Which makes me feel stupider.

I straighten, shake my head, and cross the room to the door when it comes again, and this time I stop and turn to look into the closet with its still-open door. I cock my head as I take in the array of stuffed animals and dolls. And I hear it again. I step toward the pile and re-engage the Glock’s safety before pushing it into its holster. And this time when I hear the sound, I think I can make out a word.

Help.

My heart races as I crouch down to push the animals out of the way, and I almost don’t believe it when I see a cloud of curly blond hair, then big brown eyes. Big, terrified brown eyes that stare up at me, her scarred face streaked with tears. She’s moving her mouth, muttering one word. Trying to make a sound.

“Help.”

Relief like I’ve never felt floods my system. It’s a moment of light as Emma reaches out to me. I take her in my arms and feel her tiny body press into mine as her arms put a stranglehold around my neck.

“Emma,” I say, standing, carrying the little thing with me as she sobs quiet tears into my neck and keeps trying to say that one word.

“Help. Help. Help.”

I walk out of the closet and sit on the edge of her bed. She’s holding on to me so tightly that it takes effort to draw her back far enough to see her face. I wipe her eyes and try to offer a reassuring smile.

“I heard you, Emma,” I say. “I can hear you.”

She hugs me, then reaches for something. The pig. It’s just out of reach so I grab it for her and look her over, make sure she’s unharmed. She is.

“You hid well,” I tell her.

“Vittoria,” she says, the sound so quiet it’s not even a whisper. “Vittoria is gone. Bad man. Bad.” And she starts to sob all over again, her body wracked with it. I wrap a hand over the back of her head and draw her to me, standing as I do.

“We’re going to get Vittoria back,” I tell her as I walk out of the room, keeping my hand on her head so her face is buried against my neck. I don’t want her to see the carnage.