“Sir, emergency medical services are being sent to your address now.

What’s the temperature inside the home?”

“It’s over a hundred and five outside right now,” I said, gripping the wheel as I ran the yellow light at Thirty-Second Street.

“The garage faces south, with no insulation and no windows.

It easily hits a hundred and ten in there by noon.”

“Do you know how long the child has been inside?” the dispatcher asked.

I looked at the clock on the dashboard.