The first sound at eleven twenty-eight was a woman trying to tell Maya where she kept her shoes.
The emergency call came through to her station. Nora Pike said the heater had popped and now there was smoke. She was in the hall with one shoe on and one in her hand. Her other hand hurt.
Maya gave Luis the address. He was already turning toward her.
“Leave the shoe,” she told Nora. “Keep moving away from the room.”
“I am moving. I need my purse. It's got my glasses in it.”
“Is it with you?”
“On the chair.”
The chair was in the room. Maya asked her to keep moving toward the stairs. Nora coughed and said she had put the purse there while she was looking for her shoes, as if Maya might understand and permit her to go back.
Somebody spoke behind her. A man's voice, loud enough to carry over the line. Nora said, “He's asking if I'm Nora. How does he know?”
“That's the officer,” Maya said. “Go with him.”
The patrol had still been in the building. Maya heard his instructions and Nora's refusal to hurry because her shoe was slipping. A door banged. Another woman called out from below. Nora kept the phone close to her mouth all the way down the stairs, apologizing once for making such a noise.
Maya asked her to tell the officer about her hand.
“I tried to turn it off. It hurt before I knew it was hot.”
Luis had passed the fire to the appropriate desk. Help was moving. The first unverified warning remained open on Maya's screen above the details of the emergency happening now.
She had entered Nora's name at eleven eighteen.
She made herself listen to the person who was saying it.
Outside, Nora was cold. She said there were people standing around in nightclothes and somebody had called the electrician. The wind moved across the phone's microphone, swallowing part of her answer when Maya asked if she was having trouble breathing.
At eleven thirty-one, the fire crew reached the building. Nora handed the phone to the patrol officer because she wanted both hands under her coat. He confirmed that she was outside and being assessed. Maya released the call.
Imani stood beside her. Neither of them spoke until Luis had finished passing information.
“Preserve the direct-line recording,” Imani told him. Then to Maya: “Step away for a minute.”
At the sink Maya ran water into a cup she hadn't brought. It hit the steel basin and splashed her cuffs. She shut it off.
She had heard people tell her impossible things. Most became understandable with another question. A caller who heard someone in the walls had a loose heating pipe. A man who said his wife had vanished meant that she had left and he did not know where she'd gone. Tonight she had a named woman with a burned hand, a time entered before the event, and no question she knew how to ask.
When she returned, her cell phone was vibrating beside the water Imani had brought.
Rae said, “I'm leaving the school. What's happening at Lark?”
Maya went to the empty briefing room, with Imani's permission. “Nora called the emergency line. There's been a fire. She's outside.”
“Her neighbor called our work number. I called Dad and he already knew.”
“When did you call him?”
“A few minutes ago. Eleven twenty-eight, maybe. Why?”
Maya looked at the silent wall clock. “He called my desk at eleven seventeen, before the fire.”
“With what?”
“The address. Nora's name. He said it would happen at eleven twenty-eight.”
Road noise rose through the phone. Rae said something to herself that Maya didn't catch.
“Are you driving?” Maya asked.
“I'm parked. I was about to go there.”
“Emergency crews are in the building. Stay outside if you go.”
“I know not to walk into a fire, Mom.” Rae's voice changed. “What happened to Nora?”
“She's burned her hand. They're checking her breathing.”
“Is it the control?”
“I don't know.”
“Dad said he was going to inspect it himself. He told me to finish the school paperwork.”
Maya shut her eyes. She had told Elias to call the person at risk. He had called his daughter and given her something else to do.
“Did he tell you about his warning?”
“No. He asked whether I was all right. I said I wasn't there. He asked again.”
The briefing room's door stood open an inch. Someone walked past carrying a ream of printer paper. Maya watched the white package disappear and tried to imagine saying any of this to Rae without passing on more fear than fact.
“I logged exactly what he said,” she told her. “Imani heard him. We sent a check before there was smoke.”
“Then ask him how he knew.”
“I did.”
“I'll ask too.”
“Rae—”
“I'll stay outside. I need to see Nora. Not the part. Nora.”
Maya let her go.
Elias called the desk while she was still in the briefing room. She returned, and Imani took his call on speaker with her.
“Is Rae there?” he asked.
“She's on her way,” Maya said. “Nora is hurt.”
“I know. Rae told me.”
“After you told me.”
He made no answer.
“Where did the warning come from?”
“I can't explain it here.”
“You can explain why you chose my work number.”
“You could get somebody there.”
Imani moved closer. “Mr. Vale, if you know of a fault at this installation, give that information to the incident supervisor. We'll record any present hazard you can tell us about.”
“I haven't inspected it yet.”
“Then what gave you the time?” Maya asked.
Keys scraped against something on his end. “I have to make sure this wasn't Rae's work.”
“You have to make sure Nora has a safe room,” Maya said.
“I know that.”
He sounded offended now. She was almost relieved to hear it. The man who could name a stranger's injury eleven minutes early was also the man who hated to be reminded of something he believed he knew.
Imani ended the call with the incident contact and an instruction to preserve whatever information he had received. Maya sat with her headset off for a moment. Elias's number remained on the screen.
Then another call waited. A woman couldn't find her husband's medication and he was getting confused. Maya put the headset on. She asked the address, the man's name, what had changed.
Near the end of the shift, Rae sent a message. Nora has somewhere for tonight. Dad took the part. I'm home.
Maya started to type a question. She erased it and wrote, Thank you for telling me.
Her sleeves were still damp. Nora's room was closed. Eleven minutes had put a police officer in a hallway before smoke, and Nora had still come down without her glasses.
Maya opened the first information entry once more. Nothing in it had changed.