Laura did not have a car.
Rick told everyone she hated driving.
I suddenly wondered whether that was true.
Two patrol cars arrived without sirens.
A female detective named Vasquez came to my door.
She watched Mia’s video once.
Then she called someone and said, “We need a protective response now.”
The officers went next door.
No one answered.
The front door was locked.
Detective Vasquez called Laura’s phone.
It went straight to voicemail.
Then we heard something from the back of the house.
Three soft knocks.
A pause.
Three more.
One officer ran around the side.
Minutes later, he returned with Laura.
She was wearing pajamas under a long cardigan.
One side of her face was swollen.
Her left wrist was secured to a metal pipe in the laundry room with a bicycle lock.
Rick had taken the key.
Laura had spent six hours trying to hit the wall with a mop handle whenever she heard someone nearby.
