As the rescuers cut through the branches, Andrew tried to speak.

His voice was hardly more than moving air. “My daughter.”

One rescuer leaned in. “What about your daughter?” “She’s home alone.”

He never asked what day it was. He never asked about his truck, or the groceries, or his own injuries.

He just kept repeating Ella’s name and the address of the rental house until someone promised him she’d been found.

Only then did he close his eyes and let them lift him onto the stretcher.