Some part of me wanted to scream into the phone that my husband had betrayed us, that my mother-in-law was standing beside him, that my child had carried this terror alone since Sunday.

But the people responding needed information they could act on, not my conclusions.

“Are there any other people inside?” the dispatcher asked.

“Not that I know of.

My daughter is with me.

We did not return home.”

“Are you in a safe location?”

“I’m parked away from the residence.