***
My laptop took forever to boot up. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
The video was dashcam footage from Terry’s car the night before prom.
I recognized the road immediately: the quiet two-lane stretch that curved out toward the next town.
Terry was humming along to the radio.
Then a dark sedan appeared behind him, too close, riding his bumper.
I felt every hair on my body stand on end.
Then the sedan slowed and kept its distance.
The clip cut.
“Play the second video,” Terry said.
I clicked on it and saw the same sedan behind Terry.
The car swerved into the opposite lane and pulled up alongside him.
Then it cut sharply in front, forcing Terry’s car off the shoulder and down into the ditch.
My eyes were wide as I continued watching.
The dashcam kept rolling, tilted sideways. I saw the sedan pull over. I saw the license plate.
