“You took care of us when we had nothing, Loretta,” he said.

“It’s our turn.”

I set the phone on the nightstand.

The damp cloth felt cool against my burning skin.

The clock on the wall read ten to seven when I dialed the second number stored in my phone.

Rachel answered on the first ring, her voice rising above the background noise of the newsroom in downtown Columbus.

I could hear the sharp clatter of keyboards and the steady hum of a police scanner near her desk.

“Loretta?” she asked quickly.