Word count: 99
“Old school dirt?” What the hell did that mean? Liz reached for the receiver with pincer fingers and peered inside at the broken wires; it didn’t make sense to send her to a broken phone. Was she supposed to understand something in the words? She said them aloud again, confused, then wheeled around desperately searching for a sign from the kidnappers. The New York street was a blur of strangers, any one of whom could hold an answer. Disappearing from her left, Liz heard, “dirt racing,” and from the right, “Buffalo, bitch.” Abruptly, she knew her ex was involved.