It leaned toward the drainage ditch exactly as Lily had described.
The name CARTER had once been painted across the side, but most of the letters had peeled away.
Beyond it stood a narrow white farmhouse with a rusted metal roof.
The front door was partly open.
The deputies called out before entering.
No one answered.
Inside, the air was hot and stale.
A portable fan had stopped in the corner.
Dirty baby bottles sat inside a metal basin.
Two small blankets lay on the floor beside an empty wooden cradle.
A woman was slumped beside the kitchen table.
Her cheek rested against one arm.
Her skin looked gray.
Deputy Price moved quickly and pressed his fingers to her neck.
“I have a pulse.”
Ortiz called for an ambulance.
The woman was alive, but barely.
Beside her hand lay an uncapped pen.
Beneath it was an envelope.
The words on the front had been written unevenly, as though the person holding the pen had struggled to remain conscious.
