"Stay on the line," Isaac's voice barked through the phone. "I'm calling the police. Just stay with me. Keep talking. Don’t hang up, Isabel. Do not hang up."

Her hands were clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. "Okay," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the road in front of them. The headlights cut through the dark. The car swerved slightly.

The driver gripped the wheel harder. His forehead was wet with sweat. "I’m trying to keep it steady," he muttered, "but the pedal is ...