The girl cautiously looked up, as if she wasn’t sure if the adults in front of her were really safe.
“Emily?” Ross asked, noticing a name written in a nearby notebook.
The girl nodded weakly.
On the sofa in the adjoining room, a man of about thirty-eight years old was slumped over with a bottle of liquor in his hand.
His shirt was stained and his glassy eyes revealed a deep level of intoxication.
“What the hell is going on here?” the man grumbled upon noticing the agents’ presence.
Ross ignored the comment and turned his attention back to Emily.
“Honey, can you tell us where the snake is?” she asked gently.
Emily gripped the blanket tighter and looked down at the floor.
“Dad’s snake…” she whispered in a trembling voice.
Jensen looked around the room, searching for any sign of a dangerous animal.
There were no terrariums, no cages, no trace of an exotic pet.
“Where is the snake now?” he asked again.
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