The intersection was a graveyard of twisted metal and shattered glass. Dust from the deployed airbags hung in the air like a thick, white fog, mixing with the acrid scent of leaking coolant. Inside the overturned Audi, the world was a silent, pulsing nightmare of pain. Aliya could hear her own heartbeat, a frantic thudding in her ears that drowned out everything else until the boots arrived.
The man with the crusty voice didn't get to say another sentence.
As he reached into the shattered window of the Audi, his fingers inches from Aliya's jacket, a shadow moved from the periphery of the wreckage. It wasn't the slow, panicked approach of a witness. It was a blur of calculated motion.
