“Yes. Barely. They’re picking up speed.” He pressed harder on the gas. His car rattled in protest. The SUV was three car lengths ahead now, slipping through traffic like it had done this before. Andrew clenched his jaw.
The dispatcher’s voice was still in his ear, giving reassurances, but it all blurred. All he could think about was the look the girl gave him. The number. The way she had waited—risked something—to leave him that signal. And how he couldn’t let her down.