The same male voice answers, and it pings something deep in my brain. “You have no idea what I’m going through. None.”

“Tell me, then. Tell me what I’m missing. Because whatever Cam took from you, it can’t be worth a human life.”

On the passenger’s seat, Nick gives an impressed grunt. “Your wife’s a little pistol.”

A deep voice booms from the tiny speaker. “I said, shut up. Shut up before I shove a gun in your mouth and make you.”

Jesus, Jade. Stand down for Christ’s sake.

I swipe to the third camera and there he is. Black mask. Black shirt and pants. Black gloves.

Black gun, and he’s aiming it at Jade.

“Beretta,” Nick says with a derisive snort. “Figures.”

I don’t know what he means, but I also don’t care. My wife is standing up to a masked man with a gun, staring him down. Like the pistol he’s waving around has somehow lost its menace, like it’s a plastic prop. He thrusts it at her, and Jade doesn’t even flinch.

I, however, am losing my shit. The sight of the gun explodes in my chest. I settle the phone on a thigh and slam the gas pedal to the floor, lurching us forward as far as we can go. On the other side of the windshield, traffic reaches into the semidarkness.

“How ’bout I hold the phone while you drive?” Nick says, stretching a hand. “Might be safer that way.”

The asshole’s voice fills the cab. “All you gotta do is sit there and shut up. Why can’t you just do that? Less than thirty minutes until Cam gets here, and then I’ll be out of your hair. This will all be over. I’ll leave and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“This won’t be over, are you kidding me?” Jade says, and she’s shouting. “My children are going to have nightmares for years. You get that, right? They are going to need therapy. I’m going to need therapy. You terrorized and threatened us for hours. You broke my cheek!”

“I’m going to kill him,” I mutter, white-knuckling the wheel. Up ahead, where the road ends in a T intersection, the light flips to yellow. “When we get there, I’m going to freaking murder this guy.”

Nick shifts nervously on the passenger’s seat, jutting his chin to the light. “You’re, uh, not gonna make that.”

I floor the gas, watching the masked man step forward on the screen. “Have you seen my back? You’re lucky this wasn’t any worse.”

A hundred feet, maybe less, and only one car in front of me. So far neither of us has hit the brakes. “Come on, come on.”

Nick grabs on to the handle above his window. “Seriously, man. You’re cutting it too close. The light’s about to—”

“Shut up.”