“It was my dad and his friend. Please help me.”

Vanessa’s heart lurched. She had heard children call before, but something about this voice—so fragile, so frightened—felt different.

“Sweetheart,” Vanessa said gently, “this is Vanessa. I’m here with you. Can you tell me your name?”

The line crackled again.

“…Lily.”

“How old are you, Lily?”

“Seven.”

Vanessa pressed her hand against her notepad, steadying herself. She leaned forward, lowering her voice as if Lily were sitting right in front of her.

“Okay, Lily. You’re being so brave right now. Can you tell me what happened with your dad and his friend?”

There was a soft hitch of breath. Then words tumbled out between sobs:

“They fell down. They… they’re not moving. We were playing in the backyard, and Dad said we’d surprise Mom when she came home. He climbed up with Mr. Parker to fix the treehouse rope. And then… the ladder slipped. They fell. Please, please, they’re not waking up.”

Vanessa typed furiously, relaying every detail to the nearest ambulance and fire unit.