Chapter 18 — Calls are not allowed to be hung up

— You lie down! Lie down immediately!

Vinh's voice rang out decisively, mixed with the sound of struggling, the sound of a chair falling over, the sound of something hitting the wall. Dan sat stiffly in his chair, his hands clasped tightly around the edge of the table, his whole body tensed like a piano string while the chaotic sound continued to bounce back from the small speaker, each passing second felt as heavy as a block of stone pressing down on the chests of all four people sitting around the table.

Bao Ky stood up from his chair, unable to control his reflexes, his hands clenched on the edge of the table, his eyes wide open, staring at the speaker as if he could see through it to see what was happening on the other end of the line.

— Who are you? Come into my house without asking anyone's permission...

The man's voice, broken due to shortness of breath, was mixed with anger and panic. Then there was a muffled sound, perhaps the sound of Vinh controlling him, forcing him to lie down on the floor, followed by the sound of number eight handcuffs being slapped on his wrists, a familiar metallic clicking sound that Dan had heard countless times in previous calls, but never with such a sense of relief.

She closed her eyes for a split second, letting the sound sear itself into her memory, a sound she knew she would hear again and again in the nights to come, not as a painful memory, but as proof that sometimes, just sometimes, things could go as they were supposed to.

— He was arrested for obstructing public duty and suspicion of domestic violence. You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can be used as evidence...

Vinh's voice read citizenship rights evenly and professionally, although Dan could clearly hear his breathing still rapid after the short struggle. Then, amidst those sounds, another voice rang out, weak but clear, a woman's voice.

— Where is my child... where is my child, where is my child...

— Calm down, I'm the police, you're safe. Where is your child, what room is he in?

There was a short silence, then the sound of Vinh's footsteps moving quickly towards the end of the apartment, his voice calling out, his voice still retaining the necessary gentleness even though he had just gone through a tense struggle:

— Is there anyone in the bedroom? I'm a police officer, I'm here to help you, can you come out here with me?

Dan held his breath, all his senses focused on that moment, waiting for a sound, any sound, to confirm that the child was still there, still safe, still able to answer.

Three seconds passed, feeling like three minutes. Dan felt like all eight years of his career, all the nights on duty, all the successful and failed calls, were all compressed into a single point, waiting for the answer to the last and most important question of the entire night.

Then, through both lines at the same time, a small noise rang out: the sound of the closet door opening, the rustling of fabric, and finally, the familiar voice that Dan had heard six times that night, no longer whispering, but shaking into a choked cry, breaking like a dike that could no longer withstand the pressure that had been pent up for many hours.

— Uncle...

— Uncle, come out here with me, it's okay, you're safe, completely safe.

Dan burst into tears, unable to hold back any longer. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she didn't bother to wipe them away. Her hands were still clutching the headphones as if letting go for even a second would make everything disappear. Anh Tuyet put his hand on her shoulder, said nothing, just let those tears fall, tears that had been suppressed for eight years, since that April night last year.

These are not tears of collapse, but tears of a burden finally being laid down, even if only a small part of it. Dan knows, deep in her heart, the pain of To Diem Thuy will never completely disappear, but tonight, for the first time in five years, she feels that she has not let history repeat itself, that she has done what she could not do five years ago.

Bao Ky, standing nearby, couldn't hide his red eyes. He turned his face away a bit, pretending to check his screen again, but his slightly trembling hand on the keyboard betrayed the true emotions welling up in the young man's heart.

— Mr. Vinh, is the baby okay? — Dan asked Vinh over the line, her voice was choked, almost speechless.

— The girl was shivering but didn't seem to be seriously injured, just extremely panicked. The mother has a large bruise on her head and possibly broken ribs. She is conscious but in a lot of pain and needs an ambulance to come immediately.

— Please keep her still, don't let her move on her own, especially her chest if you suspect a broken rib. — Dan said, her professional reflexes immediately returned even though her voice was still shaking.

— I understand, I'm keeping her here, don't worry.

— The car is on its way, it will be there in six minutes! — Anh Tuyet replied immediately, her hand had already typed in the command to drive the vehicle beforehand, just waiting for the final confirmation to activate, not wasting a single second of this precious time.

Long, still sitting next to him, silent from the beginning, now also raised his hand to rub his eyes, a rare gesture revealing the true emotions of a man who always maintained a stern expression in front of his subordinates. He said nothing for several seconds, just sitting there, letting the sound from the line continue, as if he needed more time to accept that the reckless decision he had so reluctantly authorized had ultimately led to an outcome that even the most rigorous system of procedures could not have guaranteed.

— Let me talk to Mr. Vinh. — He said, his voice was completely different, no longer the stern tone of a review session, but carried the tone of a colleague who was sincerely worried about the safety of an officer who had just accepted a great risk on behalf of the entire center.

Dan switched the phone, Long took it and cleared his throat.

— Mr. Vinh, I am Vuong Dac Long, deputy director of the emergency center. Thank you for everything you just did. I will be responsible for confirming with your superiors that this was an action based on a well-founded emergency, not an unwarranted overreach of authority.

- Thank you. — Vinh's voice rang out, still breathing heavily but much calmer. — To be honest, when I stood in front of that door, I wasn't completely sure, but I believed in what I heard, and I believed in Ms. Dan.

Dan, even though he was crying, still laughed softly at those words, a laugh mixed with tears, a complex emotion that only those who have gone through a long night like tonight can fully understand.

— You too, Mr. Vinh. If it weren't for you standing there tonight, all my reasoning would just be words lying on paper, unable to save anyone.

From the other end of the line, Vinh's voice rang out, interspersed with the noise of the ambulance team that had just arrived, the sound of ambulance wheels rolling on the tile floor, and the sound of medical staff conversing briefly with each other.

— The ambulance has arrived. I have to go take care of the rest here, Dan. Thank you for this night, truly.

— Thank you, thank you very much.

The call ended, but this time was different from every other time, there was not a scary silence or a cold thud, but a relieved silence, like a sigh of relief after a long breath held for many hours.

Dan put the headset on the table, looked around the on-call room, saw Anh Tuyet quickly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, saw Bao Ky still sitting quietly, saw Long standing up, approaching the small window, looking out at the still dark night sky outside.

— A quarter past three in the morning. — Anh Tuyet said, her voice trembled slightly but began to return to her familiar calmness. — That girl has been calling me since ten forty-seven last night. Almost five hours.

— The longest five hours of my life. — Dan said, her voice was hoarse because she had talked too much, for too long, with an intensity of concentration that her body was only now beginning to feel the accumulated fatigue.

Outside the duty room window, the sky was still dark, but for Dan, a certain part of her heart, the part that had been imprisoned for five years in the darkness of another April night, was now beginning to see the first light.