“We can’t count on it,” Lena said. “Reverse 911 calls. Fire crews door to door. Sheriff’s loudspeaker vehicles on the west streets. Get the community shuttle companies moving.”

“Already calling,” Tessa said.

Elaine cut in. “Deputy Vale is at your location, correct?”

Vale stood near the doorway, his jacket dark with rain. He had been listening, not moving, his gaze fixed on a spot above the control room’s fire extinguisher.

“He’s here,” Lena said.

“Deputy, this is Director Rhodes. Your supervisor has been informed about the detention. Right now I need you assigned to the Willow Court evacuation. Coordinate with the fire captain. Do not make independent decisions about route safety. Is that understood?”

Vale reached for the radio Lena had handed back to him. “Yes, Director.”

“And Deputy?”

“Ma’am?”

“Your body camera footage gets preserved. Every second.”

“Understood.”

He looked at Lena. She did not look away.

“I’ll go,” he said.

“Good,” she answered. “Be useful.”

Outside, dawn had not yet broken. The rain fell harder. Lena watched Vale drive off toward the neighborhood she had once ridden through on a bicycle with a bent front wheel and a bell that worked only when it felt like it.

She thought of her mother, two floors above the Willow Court parking lot, probably asleep beneath a quilt she had made from old shirts.

Lena called again.

This time Loretta answered, annoyed.

“Somebody better be sick.”

“Mama, put on shoes and your raincoat. You need to leave the building.”

“I see somebody woke up feeling official.”

“I’m serious. There’s an evacuation order coming.”

“The river isn’t even at the wall. I can see it from the kitchen.”

“You can see the part of it in front of you. Please. Take the folder with your medications, your keys, and the little red bag I made you keep by the door.”

A sound of rustling cloth came through the phone.

“Lena?”

“Yes.”

“Is it bad?”

Lena wanted to say no. She wanted to say it was a precaution, a small inconvenience, something that would become a funny story by dinner.

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “That’s why I’m asking you to leave.”

Her mother listened. Then Loretta spoke in a different voice.

“Mrs. Jenkins downstairs has a walker. She won’t get down the stairs by herself.”

“Help her to the lobby if you can do it safely. Do not stay behind if the route isn’t safe. Firefighters are coming.”

“And Mr. Harris doesn’t hear the phone when it’s ringing.”

“Mama.”

“I know. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“I’ve told you about a thousand times.”

“That’s because you learned your stubbornness from somewhere.”

The call ended.

Lena stared at the dark glass of the station window. For years, she had described Willow Court as a vulnerability on maps. In briefing rooms, she had said *population with mobility challenges* and *insufficient warning redundancy* and *limited ingress and egress.*