“9-1-1, this is the police dispatcher. Can you hear me?”

For a moment, she thought it was a pocket dial. Or maybe the storm messing with the old copper lines out in the boonies. She reached for the disconnect button, her finger hovering.

Then, she heard it. A breath. Small. Hitching.

“Is… is this the police?”

The voice was tiny. A child. A boy. He sounded like he was whispering with his mouth pressed right up against the receiver, trying to hide inside the phone itself.

Martha’s posture changed instantly. The slouch vanished. She leaned in, her hand freezing over the keyboard. “Yes, honey. This is the police station. My name is Martha. What’s your name?”

“Leo,” the boy whispered. “I’m Leo.”