I had bought that lock at the hardware store four months ago for twelve dollars, meaning to lock up my power saws, before I put it on the unplugged garage freezer to keep curious toddlers out of it.

“Dispatch is on the line, Julian,” Robert said, resting his hand on Noah’s shoulder to keep the boy steady as I swerved around a city bus.

“This is Julian Morales,” I said toward the console.

“My seven-year-old son just rode three miles to my job site to tell me his two-year-old sister is locked inside an unplugged chest freezer in our garage.”

The emergency dispatcher came through the speaker, her voice instant and sharp.