Sophie opened the car door for me while the noon fire siren went off three blocks away.

“He’s going to call you the second he reads that notice,” Sophie said.

“Then let him call,” I said.

By six o’clock that evening we were back in Sophie’s small one-bedroom apartment.

The phone on the laminate kitchen counter lit up and started vibrating against the wood.

Dean’s name came up on the glowing glass.

It rang for twenty seconds, went dark, and then started buzzing again three minutes later.

“Want me to shut the phone off?” Sophie asked, standing by the sink.