At 11:14 p.m., an eight-year-old boy walked in only his socks into the Oak Creek Sheriff’s Station, shivering from the cold and hugging a worn duffel bag to his chest.

The sirens wailed in the distance. Real sirens this time. Before escaping the station, Miller had managed to send an SOS to the FBI field office in the city, bypassing the local corrupted channels. State Troopers and federal tactical teams swarmed the burning mill just as the sun began to peek over the Appalachian mountains.

Sarah handed Vance over to the real authorities. The corruption was rooted out, the Captain was arrested in an ambulance, and the trafficking ring was entirely dismantled.

As the morning light broke through the rain clouds, casting a golden hue over the muddy ground, Sarah walked over to the rusted water tower.

Leo was sitting inside, holding Maya. His mother broke through the police line, crying hysterically, and dropped to her knees in the mud. Leo ran into her arms, and the three of them collapsed into a pile of tears and survival.

Sarah stood back, watching them. The physical exhaustion hit her all at once, making her knees buckle slightly, but Miller was right there to catch her shoulder.

"We did good, Jenkins," Miller said quietly.

A few weeks later, the Oak Creek Sheriff’s Station was under new command. Sarah had been promoted to Detective. The trauma of that night would linger for years, but as she sat at her new desk, she looked at a fresh crayon drawing pinned to her corkboard. It was a picture of a police officer, a little boy, and a baby, drawn in bright, happy colors.