"Only when I stand," she said.
"Then you can sit. That's one repair we don't need to rush."
He did not try to diagnose the wheeze he sometimes heard when she breathed. The inhaler in the backpack had a pharmacy label with Mia's name, and he placed it beside her where responding medical staff could see it. He informed Kelly of the medication and the breathing concern. The dispatcher asked him to monitor her closely and call back immediately if the wheezing grew worse.
Evan checked the first emergency number again. This time it connected. There was silence, then the faint sound of breathing. He gave his name and said he had found Mia safe near Route 31.
"Hello? Claire?"
The call ended.
Mia lifted her head so quickly that the blanket fell from one shoulder. "Mommy?"
"Someone answered, but I don't know who." He held her gaze. "I won't guess."
He sent a text with his name, the garage address, the police incident number, and a photograph of the school card. He deliberately kept Mia out of the picture. A photograph of a frightened child was not a thing he wanted circulating among people he had never met.
Three dots appeared. They disappeared, then returned. After another minute, a message appeared from Claire's phone.
Do not call police. I am coming.
Evan looked at those words until the screen dimmed. He had spent his life reading the small differences between what machines displayed and what they actually proved. A message sent from a number did not prove who had written it. He copied it to Kelly, who immediately told him not to disclose any further details to the caller.
"The address is already in that message," he said.
"I understand. Keep your doors locked. Do not allow anyone to take the child without officers confirming their identity."
Evan went to the bay controls, secured the last side entrance, and checked the office window. He turned off the showroom sign to reduce visibility from the highway but left the service bay light on so patrol units would see the correct building. Mia watched each movement.
"Why did you turn off the sign?"
"I don't want someone driving in because they think we're open for repairs."
"You're hiding us."
He turned back. She was ten, exhausted, and far more observant than an adult looking for easy comfort might have assumed. He chose the answer that did not make her responsible for his fear.
"I'm being careful until we know who's coming," he said. "That's different from hiding you."
"Is the man coming back?"
"I don't know."
She looked at the door for a long moment. "I don't like not knowing."
"Neither do I," Evan said.
He pulled a second stool beside the workbench and sat down, leaving the path to the office open. Rain dragged down the high windows in crooked rivers. A loose length of gutter knocked against the wall outside, three taps followed by a pause, over and over. Mia listened until she realized the sound repeated and was not someone trying the handle.