THE VILENESS GOES ON for almost a minute total, and it’s difficult to hear such awful things about me. My anger spikes. I take off the headset, returning it to Benton.

“It would seem this individual has a personal problem with me for some reason.” I’m shaken and incensed, and it’s the only thing I can think to say.

“Is the voice familiar?” Benton’s eyes don’t leave mine.

“No it’s not. What time was the call made?”

“Twelve minutes past six.” His stare doesn’t waver as the meaning hits me.

June twelfth or six-twelve is my date of birth. Usually I would assume this is nothing more than a coincidental overlap with my personal life except for a not-so-minor problem. Six-twelve P.M. is also the exact time Tailend Charlie has been e-mailing his recorded threats to me since September 1.

“So it was almost an hour and a half after the fact.” I reach for my water glass. “Bryce and I were talking in front of The Coop at closer to four forty-five. Are we sure there’s no way the time could be faked?”

“I don’t see how, Kay. The time stamp is on the nine-one-one recording.”

“Then the call was definitely made after I’d left the Square. At six-twelve I’m certain I was walking through the Yard. That’s also in the ballpark of when Marino reached me on my cell phone.”

“Can you check?” Benton indicates my phone on the table.

I pick it up and look at the incoming calls. “He tried me first at six-eighteen,” I reply. “I remember what building I was walking past when my phone vibrated, and it was him.”

“What this suggests is he must have been contacted the instant the police got the complaint about you,” Benton says, and I don’t know if he’s asking or telling.

“Don’t forget Rosie’s always been a little sweet on him. They dated a few times. She probably didn’t waste a minute getting hold of him.”

“Rosie?”

“The dispatcher,” I remind him. “I recognized her voice. Her name is actually Rosemary but Marino calls her Rosie.”

“Which brings me back to the same question. Was there anything familiar, anything you noticed about the voice you just listened to in the nine-one-one call? Anything that struck you?” Benton looks down at his phone, but the screen has gone to sleep and there’s nothing to see but a glassy black rectangle.

He unlocks it and the displayed video file reappears with its frozen PLAY arrow.

“Beyond how arrogant and hateful the person sounded?” I’m thinking hard. “Nothing struck me, not really.”

“It sounds like you’re not sure.”

I look up at the plaster ceiling and replay the 911 audio clip in my head. “No,” I decide. “It’s unfamiliar, just a normal pleasant voice. I’m not sure what else to say about it.”