“I was downtown because I’d just dropped off a lovely couple. New grandparents. I took them to Lurie Children’s.” I paused and let a wistful expression take over my face. “They were so happy. Their son-in-law ordered the DAC rideshare to the hospital for them, and I took them there to meet their new granddaughter, Elizabeth.”

The detectives needed to know that I could remember details.

Names, dates, places.

I wasn’t lying about those things. I had taken that couple to that hospital to see that baby.

I just hadn’t found them very “lovely.”

“This is our first Drive Away Car,” the chatty woman had said proudly as she got in the car. I had a feeling she meant their first rideshare of any kind. It was a warm, muggy August night, and my windshield was covered in a light mist, an early sign of the rain that was expected overnight. The man who ambled in behind her took a moment to shake out his large umbrella before pulling it into the car and closing the door.

“Our son-in-law, Gregory, called it for us,” the woman continued. “We would’ve been there at the hospital already, but we came home to get some rest, because you never know how long these things can take, you know? The female body is so fascinating, don’t you think? No two are the same. The doctors have been giving us all sorts of estimates, but we had no idea when our grandbaby would actually come.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I asked the only question I could come up with.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

I looked up into the rearview for just a moment. Even though the back seat was dimly lit, I could see the woman staring at me earnestly. I quickly pulled my gaze back to the road. I’ve always had a thing with eye contact. It’s like a game of Russian roulette, stickier and more personal than a touch, and I’m always the one to look away first. One of my biggest problems with being a DAC driver is the prolonged eye contact you often have with passengers.

“A girl,” the woman said. “Just what I wanted. I would’ve been happy either way, of course. But I’ve been dreaming about little Lizzie ever since my daughter got married.”

The woman’s husband said something quietly to her, something I couldn’t hear, and then she responded.

“I’m just talking,” she hissed. She cleared her throat and then spoke louder, to me. “My husband said I’m talking too much, that I’m being selfish and not asking enough about you. Because that’s really the point of these things, right? Tell us, honey, how long have you been a driver?”

“About six months,” I said.

“Do you like it?”