When it was their turn at the checkout, the boy slipped a crumpled note into the cashier’s palm without daring to look up. The cashier’s practiced smile didn’t waver, even as she unfolded the note to reveal the chilling message: Don’t call the police yet. He’s right beside me. Her heart raced, but her hands betrayed nothing except a slight tremor. She engaged the man with routine pleasantries, her mind racing faster than the conveyor belt carrying groceries toward her.