Chapter 2: The Silent Scream of the Innocent
Leo’s breath hitched in his throat. He stepped closer to the vehicle, his professional composure instantly evaporating.
Through the thick glass, he could see the little girl clearly. She had curly blonde hair and was wearing a delicate white lace dress, the kind meant for family portraits and formal parties. But the dress was completely soaked through with sweat. Her small face was extremely flushed—a terrifying, deep shade of crimson red.
The temperature inside a parked car on a ninety-eight-degree day could reach a lethal one hundred and thirty degrees in a matter of minutes. The child was essentially trapped inside an industrial kiln.
She wasn't screaming. She didn't have the energy left to scream. She was weakly tapping her tiny, trembling hand against the glass. Thump... thump... thump. Her eyes were half-open, glassy, and unfocused, pleading silently with the young waiter standing outside.
Leo felt a cold spike of pure adrenaline pierce through his chest. "Hey! Hey, sweetheart, I'm here!" he yelled, pressing his face close to the glass, ignoring the searing heat of the metal against his hand. He pulled on the door handle. It was locked. He tried the back door. Locked.
"Whose car is this?!" Leo shouted, spinning around to look at the terrace. The guests were completely oblivious, laughing and clinking their glasses, the soft jazz drowning out his panic.
Brenda marched over, her heels clicking aggressively against the pavement. She looked annoyed, her eyes darting from Leo’s frantic face to the tray of champagne he was precariously balancing on one hand.
"Leo, what on earth are you doing? The donors are waiting," Brenda hissed, checking her watch.
"There's a kid in here!" Leo yelled, pointing at the window. "She's locked inside! The engine is off!"
Brenda let out an exasperated sigh, barely glancing at the heavily tinted window. In her mind, the wealthy patrons of the country club were infallible. They wouldn't just leave a child to die.
"She's just playing," Brenda said dismissively, waving her hand. "The parents probably just stepped out to say hello to someone. Do not cause a scene, Leo. If you damage that vehicle, you will pay for it for the rest of your life. Get back to work."
Leo stared at Brenda in absolute horror. The utter lack of humanity in her voice paralyzed him for a fraction of a second. She turned her back and began walking away, adjusting her clipboard as if nothing was wrong.
Leo looked back into the car. The little girl had stopped tapping.
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Her tiny hand slowly slid down the glass, leaving a streak of condensation and sweat. Her eyes rolled back slightly, and she collapsed out of view, succumbing to the lethal heatstroke.
The child was dying. Right in front of him.
