I Tried to Save a Boy Locked in a Car — What Happened Next Still Haunts Me (2 of 4)

The dispatcher cut in.
“Make and model?”

I told her. Silence. Then:
“That car was cleared fifteen minutes ago. The child’s safe with his mother.”

I stared at him, still crying, still trapped.
“No. He’s here. Right now.”

A long pause. Then the voice changed — slower, firmer.
“Ma’am, step away. Officers are coming.”

I stepped back. The boy stopped sobbing. Pressed his face to the glass. Then, slowly, lifted a phone and aimed the screen at me.

It was my picture. Taken ten minutes earlier.

I swayed on my feet. “He’s… holding my photo,” I told the dispatcher.

Her tone sharpened.
“Step away. Do not approach.”

By the time the officers arrived, the boy was gone. The car — same plates, same white shirt folded neatly on the seat — was locked. They said the mother confirmed he was home eating a popsicle.

But I knew what I’d seen.

That night, scrolling my phone, I found a picture I never took: me, beside that sedan, before I’d called 911. Shot from behind, like someone watching.