. . .
While staring at the screen, Dylan froze. Just by looking at Zeirenne's location into the satellite image, he knew the car had stopped. He was just not sure about the aftermath. He gripped his car keys, and zoomed out of his house.
When he arrived at the scene, the ambulance was already gone. All that was left for him to see was Lala in a bad state. There was not even one scratch on its frame, but the tires were burned out. He couldn't help but worry.
"What happened here?" he asked one of the patrol officers. Most of them had been talking to walkie-talkies nonstop. Reporting about the incident that occurred in that highway. The officer excused himself from the call and faced Dylan.
"I'm sorry, Sir. This area is still off limits. We can't give out information to the press for the mean time."
Dylan pulled his phone from pockets like an instant prop--or proof. "Oh. I was the one who called for dispatch. I'm here for the driver herself."
