The car rattled, protesting every bump in the road, but Andrew gripped the wheel with both hands, leaning forward like it would somehow help close the distance. He grabbed his phone and dialed 911. “911, what’s your emergency?”
“This is—my name’s Andrew. I think two girls just left my café with a man who shouldn’t have them. They left me a $9.11 tip. One of them stared at me while adding it. It felt like a signal. Now they’re in a black SUV—he’s taking them somewhere.”
“Are you following them now?” “Yes,” Andrew said, swerving around a slow-moving van. “I’m on Park Avenue, heading east. They’re in a black Chevy Suburban. No plates visible yet—tinted windows. Two girls in the back.”
“What’s your current speed and direction?” “About thirty-five. Still eastbound. They just passed 8th Street.” “Officers are on the way,” the dispatcher said. “Try to maintain distance and keep visual. Do not engage. Just stay on the line.”