“Okay. You’re live, remember? Keep talking. They can’t hear me, but they can hear you. This is your big break, kiddo, and I’m right here to help you. Can you describe the scene?”

She got to a crouch, wincing at the pain, and moved forward slowly, trying to gauge when she could actually look up. “Moments ago, a masked man came into this mini-mart on Beacon Hill, wielding a handgun and demanding money from the clerk. He fired once into the air to make his point and once into me.” Her voice was as loud a whisper as she dared.

She heard a noise; it sounded like crying. Keeping low, she came around the corner and found a little boy, huddled against the neon candy aisle.

“Hey,” she said, holding out her hand. He took it greedily, squeezing so tightly she couldn’t pull away. “Who are you?”

“Gabe. I’m here with my grandpa. Did you see that guy shoot his gun?”

“I did. I’m going to go find your grandpa to make sure he’s okay. You stay here. What’s your last name, Gabe, and how old are you?”

“Linklater. I’m gonna be seven in July.”

“Okay, Gabe Linklater. You stay low and keep quiet. No more crying, okay? Be a big boy.”

“I’ll try.”

She tucked her chin toward her chest and talked quietly into the mic. She wasn’t sure what the station could hear, but she just kept talking. “I found seven-year-old Gabe Linklater in the candy aisle. He came in with his grandfather, who I’m looking for now. I can hear the gunman over at the register, threatening the cashier. Tell the police there’s only one robber.” She turned the corner.

There she found an old man, sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding a box of Purina Dog Chow. “Are you Gabe’s grandfather?” she whispered.

“Is he okay?”

“A little scared, but fine. He’s in the candy aisle. What did you see?”

“The robber drove up in a blue car. I saw him through the window.” He looked at her shoulder. “Maybe you should—”