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... don’t even know.
My heart was beating crazily against my ribcage as I kept glancing at the black car through the rearview mirror, as my hands gripped the steering wheel like my life depended on it—because apparently, it did.
Tessa was beside me, half leaning over the console, half screaming into her phone.
"911? Yes! Hello! Um... two women... possibly in danger... a car is following us! Maybe a criminal? Maybe robbers? Probably a very scary one! I don’t know!" she babble ...
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