The officers pried open the floorboards slowly, trying not to destroy the freshly laid laminate. The mother kept protesting.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, arms crossed. “You’re scaring my daughter with this nonsense. There’s nothing under there.”
But the girl — pale, trembling — wouldn’t look away. She just clutched her teddy bear tighter and whispered, “He said he was cold.”
About half a meter down, they hit something unusual. The soil was recently disturbed. Too soft. One officer dropped to his knees and began to dig with his gloved hands. Within minutes, the distinct edge of a blue tarp peeked through the dirt.
The room went silent.
The mother stopped speaking. Her face turned a ghostly shade of white.
A few minutes later, they uncovered what they had hoped not to find: a human arm, wrapped in that same blue tarp.
DNA tests confirmed the body was Richard Lawson — husband of Claire Lawson and father to eight-year-old Mia.
He’d been missing for two weeks.
Claire had told everyone he left after an argument. That he was tired, needed space. That he packed a bag and disappeared. She filed a missing persons report days later, as if performing a chore. No real emotion. No tears.
But the police had questions now.
Especially about the bruising on Richard’s skull. And the blood traces found under the baseboards.
Claire was arrested that evening.
Under interrogation, the truth came out slowly.
Richard had suspected Claire of cheating. She’d been secretive, cold. That night, he confronted her — and things escalated. She claimed it was an accident. That she didn’t mean to hit him so hard with the candlestick. That he just fell.
But instead of calling for help, she panicked. Waited until Mia fell asleep, then spent the night dragging his body beneath the floor. She even hired contractors the next day to lay new laminate — claiming she was “renovating.”
She thought no one would ever look under there.
She hadn’t counted on Mia’s dreams.
Mia was placed into temporary foster care, but the officer who had first answered her call — Sergeant Jenson — visited her every week. He brought coloring books, snacks, and gently told her she was the bravest girl he’d ever met.
She told him the same thing each time:
“Daddy wasn’t angry. He just wanted to be found.”