Every hour, the baby would crawl back against the same wall. Finally, he spoke, and everything changed.

"But this behavior is too specific. Too persistent. Too targeted."

"This wall needs to be inspected. By a professional. Today."

I called the police. The number for non-emergency cases. I explained the situation to them.

Receptionist: "Sir, are you reporting a possible... crime?"

"I don't know. My son keeps pointing at a wall. He says his mother is in there."

"She's buried on the other side of town. But he insists. And the nannies kept quitting."

"We will send an agent to assess the situation."

The officer arrived. Two hours later. Inspector Sarah Chen. Experienced. Serious.

I listened to the story. I saw Ethan point to the wall. I heard him repeat, "Mom's in there."

He took me aside. "Mr. Warren, I'm going to be blunt. This is unusual."

"Children don't invent such precise details. Especially not at that age."

"I would like permission to bring in a canine unit. A cadaver detection dog. Just to check."

My heart stopped. "A cadaver dog? You think there's... a corpse?"

"I think we should rule out that possibility. Can I call them?"

"Yes. Do it. I need to know."

A canine unit arrived. A German Shepherd. Trained to search for human remains.

The trainer showed the dog the house. Room by room. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

In Ethan's room: the dog went straight to the corner Ethan indicated. He sat down, alert.

Liaison officer: "We have a signal. There's something behind that wall."

Inspector Chen: "Mr. Warren, please leave."

"This is my home..."

"This is now a possible crime scene. Please wait outside."

I took Ethan with me. I went to the neighbor's house. I looked out the window.

Police: They brought the tools. They carefully removed the drywall, section by section.

Behind the wall: Insulation. Studs. Wiring. And then: Something else.

Small. Wrapped in plastic. Held in place with tape. Hidden in a wall recess.

An inspector came out. He had a serious face. "Mr. Warren, we've found human remains."

"Small. About the size of a baby. Cordon off the area. Call in the forensics team."

My legs went weak. "A baby? In my house?"

"On the wall. Hidden. We don't know for how long. Or who."

The forensic experts arrived. They took photographs. They documented the events. The remains were carefully removed.