Her parents, sitting in the living room, had no idea she had picked up the phone. They thought their daughter was simply having another episode of wild imagination.

Earlier that night, when she insisted there was movement in her room, they reassured her there was nothing to fear. “Just shadows,” her father had said while clicking on a nightlight. “Dreams can feel real,” her mother added gently, tucking the blanket around her. But Olivia’s wide, watery eyes had lingered on the dark space beneath the bed.

Ten minutes later, the suburban calm of their neighborhood was broken by the low hum of patrol cars. Blue and red lights splashed faintly against the walls of the houses as two officers approached the front door.

Olivia’s mother opened it, surprised. “What’s going on?” she asked, almost in a whisper, as though afraid of waking the neighbors.