Note to self, always have a backup getaway car. The Volkswagen’s engine clicked dejectedly as Sara turned the key. It wouldn't start. The car was ten years old, and it had carried Sara through college, but today, when she needed it the most, nothing.
Rain drummed on the windshield and raced down the cracked paint. Sara scratched the back of her head. Her feet were soaked, and water seeped out of her shoes, darkening the carpet of the front seat. Her duffel bag grew heavier with each passing second. She thought she heard the whine of a siren in the distance, but it must have been her imagination. No humane policeman would blare a siren at three in the morning. Would they?
Sara pounded her fist against the leather steering wheel. She had relied on the car for years, but this was the first time she had used it in a heist.