as if sensing something sinister still lurking within the shadows.

The officer called his partner over, and together they began inspecting the peculiar gap. The tension in the room was palpable, with Han clutching the baby tighter and Son standing protectively beside them, baseball bat still in hand. Ink, the ever-loyal guardian, maintained his position, ready to pounce if necessary.

The officers exchanged a glance, clearly wary of what they might discover. With cautious precision, they pried open the wooden boards around the mysterious crack. The wood creaked ominously, as if reluctant to reveal its secrets. As the gap widened, a musty, earthy aroma filled the room, mingling with the scent of damp wood and old dust.

“What do you think it is?” Han’s voice trembled as she questioned the officers.

“Could be an old crawl space,” one officer suggested. “Sometimes houses have these, but the entrance gets sealed over time.”

“But why would there be a hand?” Son asked, the image of the pale appendage etched into his mind.

The officers pushed forward, expanding the opening enough for one of them to squeeze through. With a hesitant nod to his partner, the officer climbed into the dark void that lay beneath the floorboards. The flashlight beam danced across the shadowy interior, revealing cobwebs and ancient debris. Then, the light caught something startling — a skeletal hand attached to an equally skeletal arm, partially buried in the dirt.

Han gasped, clutching the baby so tightly that the little one stirred, gurgling in her sleep. Son placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his grip firm and steady.