The Midnight Call
It was almost midnight.
Rain had just swept through the city, leaving the streets wet and nearly deserted. At a lonely electric vehicle charging station beside the highway, cold white lights reflected off the pavement.
A white car slowly pulled into the station and stopped.
A woman stepped out.
She looked terrified.
Her hair was damp, her eyes were red from crying, and her hands trembled as she checked her phone again and again. Every few seconds, she glanced toward the dark highway behind her, as if she were waiting for someone—or afraid that someone had followed her.
A young employee working near one of the charging stations noticed her.
He walked over cautiously.
“Ma’am, are you okay? Do you need help?”
The woman looked up at him.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered,
“I don't know what to do anymore.”
The employee looked at her car.
“Is something wrong with your vehicle?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“It’s my daughter.”
The young man immediately became serious.
The woman explained that more than an hour earlier, her daughter had called her. Her car had broken down on an isolated stretch of highway.
She had sounded frightened.
The woman told her daughter to stay inside the car, lock the doors, and wait.
Then she immediately drove out to find her.
But only a few minutes before she reached the location, the phone call suddenly disconnected.
She called back.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then something even more disturbing happened.
Her daughter's phone began showing a different location.
It was moving.
The woman handed her phone to the employee.
A small dot on the map was traveling farther down the highway.
“That doesn't make sense,” he said.
“She told me her car wouldn't start,” the woman replied.
Tears rolled down her face.
“I think someone took her.”
The employee stared at the screen.
“Have you called the police?”
“Yes. They told me officers were searching the area.”
She wiped her face.
“But I can't just stand here and wait.”
The young man looked toward the highway.
“Then don't go looking for her alone.”
Suddenly—
the phone vibrated.
Both of them froze.
An incoming call appeared on the screen.
The woman's eyes widened.
It was her daughter.
She answered immediately.
“Honey?”
Silence.
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
Still nothing.
Then they heard it.
Breathing.
Slow.
Quiet.
Someone was on the other end of the line.
The woman covered her mouth.
“Sweetheart, please say something.”
A few seconds passed.
Then a man's voice whispered through the phone.
“Stop looking for her.”
The call ended.
The woman stood completely still.
Her phone almost slipped from her hand.
Then the screen lit up again.
A new message had arrived.
There were no words.
Only a location pin.
The employee looked at the map.
His expression suddenly changed.
“What?” the woman asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he slowly raised his head and looked toward the far end of the charging station.
The woman followed his gaze.
The location wasn't somewhere farther down the highway.
It wasn't miles away.
It was here.
At the charging station.
Less than a hundred yards from where they were standing.
Across the parking lot, beneath a flickering streetlight, a black vehicle sat alone in the darkness.
Its engine was still running.
The windows were heavily tinted.
Neither of them moved.
Then—
something struck the inside of the rear window.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The woman stared at the vehicle.
And through the dark glass, they could just barely see it.
May you like
A hand.
Pressed desperately against the window.
