“Your birthday dinner reservation is for tomorrow night,” I said, following her into the hallway.

“The bakery needs us to pick up the cake by two.”

“The cake can sit in their cooler until Monday,” Rachel said, pushing open the heavy garage door.

“Put your shoes on and get in the car.”

I pulled my sweater over my shoulders and grabbed my leather purse from the entryway table, keeping the phone balanced against my shoulder.

“An officer is three miles out, ma’am,” the dispatcher said.