He did not download it. But in the corner of his bedroom window, reflecting the streetlight, a single green dot pulsed, waiting.
Below it, in pixelated green text that only Leo could see, the GPS asked a final question:
A low, synthesized voice, barely audible over the hum of his diesel engine, said: “Left turn, 200 feet. Avoid the boy on the bicycle.”
“Because in 48 minutes, a man with a knife will check unlocked trucks. You will be awake by then.”