Park made the calls.
He stood in the center of the bay with his phone pressed to his ear and made one call after another with the methodical focus of a man working through a list he had prepared in his head hours ago. Francis listened to fragments of it while Jenna organized the children near the bay entrance, away from the detained men, away from the vehicles, giving them space and warmth and a calm voice.
The medical unit arrived in eleven minutes.
Two paramedics, a woman and a man, both professional, both quick. They moved through the children without drama, checking vitals, speaking quietly, crouching to eye level. The youngest child, the boy who had held Jenna's hand, let the female paramedic take his pulse without pulling away. That was something. Francis had seen children come ou
