My 11-Year-Old Daughter Took Piano Lessons — Then Her Teacher Called and Said She Hadn’t Shown Up in Two Weeks

Ty’s expression sharpened. “Look, she’s been consistent. She brought food. She did her part.”

My stomach lurched. “Her part?”

Emma whispered, “He said if we got it healthy, someone would pay to adopt it.”

“Pay,” I repeated, and my voice went cold. “So you were selling sick animals?”

Ty’s eyes flicked away. “People donate. It’s not—”

I pulled Emma behind me.

“Hand me the carrier,” I said.

Ty’s hand shot out. “You can’t take that.”

I stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“That’s my arrangement,” he snapped. “I found it first.”

Emma gasped. “Ty, stop!”

I pulled Emma behind me. “You were using her,” I said.

Ty turned as if he was going to run.

“She wanted to help,” he said, louder, like volume made him right.

“She’s a child,” I said. “You scared her into keeping secrets.”

Ty’s nostrils flared. “If you take it, don’t come crying when they put it down.”

Emma made a sound that wasn’t even a sob, just pain. She clutched my arm so hard I felt her nails.

“Enough,” I said, and I pulled out my phone. My hands shook, but I dialed anyway. “I’m calling the police.”

Ty turned as if he was going to run.

A park worker hurried over, frowning.

A jogger rounded the corner at that moment, nearly colliding with him. “Hey!” the jogger barked, stepping in his way.

Ty stumbled, and his phone slipped from his hand. It hit the ground, screen still lit, showing a grid of videos with titles that turned my stomach.

“Episode 4,” one read.

A park worker hurried over, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“That kid’s been meeting my daughter here,” I said, voice shaking with anger. “He’s filming her. He’s talking about money.”

The officer’s eyes moved to Ty.