The girls followed. Andrew stood frozen behind the counter as the door jingled shut behind them. It took him a moment to move. Then he walked briskly to the table and opened the billfold. His fingers stilled. Tip: $9.11
At first, he blinked. “That’s… way too much,” he whispered. For a $10 check? That was almost a full shift’s tips in one moment. But then—the girl’s stare. The flicker of her eyes. That haunting urgency. 9.11. His chest tightened. 9-1-1.
He snapped the check folder shut and bolted for the door, pushing through it with enough force to make the bell jangle like an alarm. Outside, the street was mostly empty except for a black SUV just pulling away from the curb.
Andrew caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the driver’s side window—tight, focused, his hands gripping the wheel. In the back seat, two silhouettes. One of the girls turned to look out the window.