Then a tiny, trembling voice whispered, “It was my daddy and his friend. Please… please help me.”

Vanessa straightened in her chair. “Sweetheart, are you safe? Can you tell me your name?”

“My name is Liliana. I’m eight,” the girl said, barely audible through soft sobs. “My tummy hurts… so, so much. It keeps getting bigger.”

Vanessa froze. “Okay, Liliana. I’m here. Can you tell me where you are?”

The faint sound of cartoons played through the receiver — Spanish voices, laughter, static. But no adults.

“Where are your parents right now?” Vanessa asked.

“Mommy’s sleeping again,” Liliana said. “Daddy’s at work. But… I think what they gave me made me sick.”

Vanessa’s instincts kicked in. She signaled her supervisor while tracing the call. “What did they give you, honey?”

“Food and water,” Liliana said softly. “But after I ate, my tummy