The phone rang at 11:43 p.m.
It wasn’t a ring; it was a siren slicing through the thick, comfortable silence of my bedroom. I was halfway into a dream about fishing on the lake, the water glass-calm, when the harsh digital trill yanked me back to reality. I groaned, rolling over to check the screen, expecting a wrong number or perhaps a dispatch call—old habits from my days as a paramedic die hard.
The screen flashed a single name: Emily.
