Crying from the top floor
Russell Hargrove heard his son’s cries before he even reached the stairs. It wasn’t the usual cry of a tired child—it was sharp, panicked, filled with despair, sending a chill down his spine.
He dropped his briefcase and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His heart was pounding. By the time he reached the nursery, his breathing was ragged and his hands were shaking. He threw the door open and froze.
Three-year-old Theo sat on the floor in his bright yellow pajamas, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. Naomi Keller, his nanny for almost two years, lay beside him. She was pale and motionless, with one arm bent at an unnatural angle and sprawled across the carpet.
Russell knelt beside his son. Theo’s face was streaked with tears, and there were faint red marks on his neck, but he was breathing. Naomi’s pulse was barely perceptible beneath Russell’s trembling fingers. Nearby on the floor lay a damp cloth, a blinking thermometer, and a small plastic wheel from a broken toy.
He screamed for help, his voice shaking. A moment later, Darlene Pike, the building manager, entered, a worried expression on her face.
“I’ve been worried about her lately,” she said quietly. Russell barely heard her—the paramedics were already rushing up.