Find out what happens to that little girl by reading on.

The flashing red and blue lights of the arriving patrol car cast long, eerie shadows across the tall grass. DANA gently wraps a warm blanket around ELIZA, who clutches the stuffed rabbit to her chest.

CALEB steps away, pressing his hand to his ear piece as the radio crackles.

DISPATCH (V.O.) (over radio) Unit Twelve, we ran Richard Monroe’s plate. Vehicle registered to a property four miles north, on the old river road. But Caleb... Monroe isn’t her grandfather.

Caleb turns back toward Eliza, his jaw tightening.

CALEB Say again, Dispatch?

DISPATCH (V.O.) Richard Monroe was declared dead six years ago. The current owner of that property is Arthur Vance—former security director for Savannah Port Authority. Wears a gray uniform.

Caleb’s mind races. He looks down at Eliza, then at Dana, who gives him a grim, knowing nod.

CALEB (into radio) Send backup directly to the river road address. I’m heading there now.

EXT. VANCE PROPERTY - LATER

A rusted chain-link fence surrounds a dark, dilapidated two-story house. A gray security van sits in the driveway, its driver-side door wide open.

Caleb draws his sidearm, unholstering his flashlight as two additional officers form up behind him.

CALEB (whispering) Quiet approach. Watch the perimeter.

They move up the wooden porch stairs. The front door is ajar.

INT. VANCE HOUSE - CONTINUOUS

The interior smells of stale dampness, antiseptic, and ozone. Dust motes float in the beam of Caleb’s flashlight. Framed photographs hang on the wall—dozens of them, showing different children over the span of twenty years.

Caleb stops at a photograph. A young woman in her twenties, holding a baby. Beneath it, a handwritten label: FAMILY ONE - 2004. Beside it, another photo labelled FAMILY TWO - 2015. And finally, a picture of Eliza as a toddler with a completely different couple: FAMILY THREE - 2020.

OFFICER MILLER (under his breath) Jesus, Caleb... he’s been swapping them.

Caleb points his light toward a heavy iron door at the end of the hallway. A padlock hangs unlatched from the hasp.

CALEB Floor’s clear. Check the basement.

INT. BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS

Caleb descends the concrete stairs. The beam of his flashlight sweeps across a makeshift medical clinic—IV drips, blood draw kits, and rows of filing cabinets labeled by family names.

In the center of the room, sitting bound to a chair beneath a single overhead bulb, is a woman in her late twenties. Her hands are zip-tied, her hair matted, but her eyes flare with sudden terror and hope as the light hits her.

CALEB Police! Stay where you are!

WOMAN (gasping, weeping) My baby... where is my baby? He took her to the bus stop... he said he’d kill her if I didn't stop looking for them!

Caleb rushes forward, unsheathing his pocket knife to cut the ties.

CALEB Ma'am, calm down. Is your name Monroe?

WOMAN No! My name is Sarah Miller! He took Eliza from my yard three years ago! He forced us to live here... he made her call him Grandpa!

FOOTSTEPS creak heavily on the wooden floorboards above.

Caleb spins around, raising his weapon toward the stairs. A shadow looms at the top of the landing.

ARTHUR VANCE (60s, wearing a dirt-stained gray security uniform) stands at the doorway, holding a flare gun.

ARTHUR VANCE She wasn't supposed to talk to you, Officer. The medicine always made them forget.

CALEB Drop it, Vance! It’s over! We have the house surrounded!

Arthur looks down at the flare gun, then at the rows of filing cabinets holding the secrets of three stolen lives. A twisted, empty smile touches his lips.

ARTHUR VANCE It’s never over. I gave them families.

Arthur fires the flare into a stack of chemical jugs resting near the IV stands.

INSTANT FLAMES roar to life, illuminating the basement in a sudden, blinding orange glare.

CALEB (screaming) Miller, get her out! NOW!

Caleb lunges forward, tackling Vance onto the concrete as smoke fills the room.

EXT. VANCE PROPERTY - DAWN

Fire engines douse the smoldering embers of the house. Black smoke drifts upward into the gray morning sky.

An ambulance sits at the edge of the driveway with its rear doors open.

Sarah Miller sits inside, a blanket around her shoulders. Her hands tremble uncontrollably—until she looks up.

Caleb walks toward the ambulance, guiding little Eliza by the hand. Eliza still clutches her worn stuffed rabbit, Milo.

Eliza stops. She looks at Sarah. The fog of the sedatives seems to lift from her blue eyes as recognition slowly takes hold.

ELIZA (whispering) Mommy...?

Sarah bursts into tears, dropping to her knees on the gravel and opening her arms.

SARAH Eliza! Oh God, Eliza!

Eliza drops the rabbit and runs straight into her mother’s arms. They collapse together on the ground, holding each other tightly.

Caleb watches them from a few paces away, his face smeared with soot, his body cam still flashing its faint red recording light. He bends down, picks up the stuffed rabbit from the gravel, and gently places it beside the mother and child.

CALEB (quietly into his chest mic) Dispatch, Unit Twelve. Scene is secure. Three families notified. Send the transport team home.

He turns and walks back toward his patrol car as the sun finally breaks over the horizon, lighting up the black Georgia highway.