The dispatcher, whose name was Kelly, asked whether any adult was present. Evan turned in a full circle with the flashlight. The shoulder was empty apart from his truck, and he could hear no engine beyond the low rumble of rain.
"No. I'm the only adult here."
"Do not go toward the access road. A bridge south of you is closed and county units are rerouting. Keep the child inside a locked vehicle while we coordinate a response."
Evan looked at the narrow tow-truck cab. The heat was poor and there was little space where a frightened child could sit without feeling trapped. Two miles away, his shop had running water, a warm office, clean blankets, and lights that could identify arriving responders.
"My garage is close," he said. "Cole Roadside Service at the old mill junction. May I take her there while you stay on the line?"
Kelly asked for his driver's license information and registration, confirmed the address, and recorded the plan. "You may move her to that location. Stay connected. Do not follow the other vehicle if you see it."
Evan offered the girl his hand without insisting she take it. She walked beside him until her feet reached the gravel shoulder and stopped. "My backpack," she said.
A small red backpack floated against reeds near the flooded culvert. It was within reach of the shallowest part of the ditch, but the current beneath it was strong enough to trouble him. He found a longer recovery pole in the tow truck and hooked the strap without stepping deeper into the water. When he brought the pack up, brown water streamed from every seam.
Inside were a library book wrapped in a plastic sleeve, a small inhaler in a pink case, a pencil with a unicorn eraser, and a laminated school card. The card identified her as Mia Bennett, ten years old. Two emergency numbers were printed beneath a school logo, though the ink had blurred at the edges.
"Mia," Evan said, trying the name gently. "Is that right?"
She nodded. "Mommy calls me Mimi."
"Okay, Mimi. I'm going to phone your mom while we get somewhere warm."
He tried the first number. It rang until a recorded voice asked him to leave a message. He called again, then gave the number to Kelly. The second contact listed a David Bennett. When Evan asked whether David was the man who had left her by the highway, Mia lowered her eyes and said nothing.
He did not fill the silence with another question. He helped her climb into the passenger seat, moved the milk behind the center console so she could place her feet on a clean rubber mat, and turned up the heater as far as it would go. He explained each movement before making it. Mia kept her hand on the backpack and her gaze on the road behind them.
"Your mom always answers?" he asked after the second call failed.
"Always." Her bottom lip trembled. "Even when she's in a meeting."