The Glock's nozzle was pressed against his skinny vampire like cheek and he kept squinting down to its nozzle hoping nothing would come out of there as a result of his foolishness. He couldn’t dare to look up at Deighan's face.

"What did you just put in here?" the middle aged cop with heavy arms and fancy Stalin like mustache said. For few seconds, Hansen presumed Stalin – one of the most hated historical figures, had come from straight from his grave just in order to scare the daylights out of him.

"N – N – N Nothing Mr –" he managed to mutter.

"I heard you shut the damn drawer you skinny." he snapped and he scanned the entire room which looked normal from every perspective. "Room's clean but your clothes stink." Then Deighan pushed him hard, "Something is unusual here Benjamin Hansen, isn’t it?"

Hansen could spot his TPD Police Badge other than his pistol. For some seconds Deighan (who looked like he was wearing a fishing hat instead of sergeant hat) look all around and then started smelling the air, making a squeamish sound.

"Where's Marcello?" he snapped like he was inside a dark interrogation room and like Hansen was suspect of a misanthropist act.

"Who – who - Marcello?" Hansen breathed out like he was doing nothing more but whispering in thin air in front of a man who was double of his weight.

Both men then heard a heavy sound of something hit on the floor upstairs by something. In act of defense, Hansen did not even move his lips for he doubted what was source of sound upstairs, right above them. It seemed like somebody was stomping upstairs.

He doubted someone was doing it.

"Marcello," Deighan said, ignoring the sound right above them, "a man who walks in cloak, hood and has a rucksack on his shoulder and, most importantly, almost every night since few days he's been spotted here. Every night…every night he gets inside your house, each time with the sack on his shoulder…" Deighan whispered.

Hansen knew nothing what he was talking about. He had no idea about anyone entering in his house except a girl who had come from nowhere.

Upstairs, the girl could see a police car parked outside the house she was trapped in, through the glass window. The van would never have come in her sight if she hadn’t heard sound of engine stop. She had to squint to her left, almost rolling her pupils back inside her eye sockets. It was somewhat like she used to pretend like a ghost by rolling her eyes upside when she wasn’t confined. She could hear the cop was shouting, "Open the door." She could be saved if the cop heard her. She couldn’t shout but could still stomp her tied feet. She yelled but she also knew no matter how loud she attempted to shout, her voice wasn’t even going to reach in next room. She stomped the wooden floor.

She did it twice.

Then she didn’t count and thought she had gone insane.