Sadie locked out on the dark back porch by the garage door.

Trevor and Colleen inside having dinner.

Mary Bennett going to get Sadie and taking her across the street.

Over the transatlantic line I heard the soft scratch of a ballpoint pen on a yellow legal pad on his kitchen counter.

“Sadie’s inside Mary’s house right now?” my father asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Mary locked her front door behind the two of them.”

“Is Sadie hurt, or showing any signs of hypothermia?” he asked.