the empty space where my car was

As I stepped out onto the street this morning with pear and paper in one hand and bag in the other I was greeted by a queezy feeling on my stomach.
Behind the white Isuzu bakkie was not my car.
I ran into the house, dropping items on the way (pear on the sidewalk, bag on the kitchen floor and about the paper I am not sure) to wake Alexander up to tell him the news. He was still waking up and trying to understand why his sleep was so horribly interrupted when I ran back outside. It did not feel right, it definetely did not feel right. I wanted to check if I was just confused, but I saw correctly. My car was no longer parked behind the bakkie. It was GONE!
And it still is.
I'm not sure if I have at all dealt with this unpleasantry. My mind went into auto I guess and I made some calls. Later on the police came round to take a statement (I made them coffee and felt very sweet) and I went to work.
Oi.
So now my car is possibly in some chop-shop being cut into pieces, the thought breaks my heart. Someone called form the police station earlier to tell me they have a high success rate and I should keep my hopes up. He was very sweet and it felt like he was a bit flirty even, so I'll keep my hopes up that maybe tomorrow he will call again and tell me I can come pick up my car at the police station.
Quite honestly I don't care for the friendly police officer, I just want anybody to call me and tell me to come pick up my car, that has been found in a similar condition as the one I left it in...
I think I'm depressed