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Sam frowned. “I don’t know how these things work, but are you actually allowed to do that?”

“Allowed to look up the address on the school computer system and call around at the house unannounced? No, not really.”

“Could you get in trouble for it?”

“Possibly,” she said. “Time will tell.”

“Time does do that, yes.”

Sam was silent for a moment.

Then he sighed.

“You can’t help everyone,” he said quietly. “You’re notresponsiblefor everyone. You do know that, don’t you?”

Katie didn’t reply, and for a few seconds the atmosphere in the basement felt awkward. Then she heard Siena calling from upstairs.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

The sound broke the slight tension in the air. She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back down at Sam as his eyes widened in pretend shock.

“Shit,” he said. “I remember now.”

Once back upstairs—and with the television firmly off—Katie sat next to Siena on the couch, reading with her. This was one of her favorite parts of the day, snuggled up tightly beside her daughter. The book in front of them was already far too young for Siena; it had big pages with simple illustrations and the corresponding words written underneath them. But Siena had always loved it, which meant Katie loved it too.

“Sun.”

Siena pointed at the right drawing.

“That’s right,” Katie said.

“And moon.”

Siena giggled at that: a gorgeous sound that made Katie smile. On this particular page, Siena always left that image until last. She and Sam had told her it was the first word she ever said, and since then the moon had been magic to Siena. Every night, she insisted on saying good night to it.

Katie turned the page.

Siena pointed. “Van.”

“That’s the one.”

“Helicopter.”

“You’re a genius, kid.”

As her daughter continued pointing and naming the illustrations, Katie allowed her mind to wander, thinking back to what Sam had said to her downstairs.You can’t help everyone.The two of them had fallen in loveas teenagers and been together ever since, so he knew her well—far too well sometimes. But what he’d said was right, and she needed to remind herself of it more often. At the same time, knowing it was true never did anything to dispel the urge to help, or to soften the sense of guilt she felt when she failed.

And as her mind wandered, the second premonition arrived.

“Red car,” Siena said.

Katie blinked, snapping back into focus, and looked down at the page. There was a picture of a car there, but it was blue.

“What do you mean?” Katie said slowly.

“Red car, Mommy.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and a trickle of cold ran down her spine.