The sergeant spotted a girl with a pink backpack standing in the middle of the rain-soaked street, but upon seeing the officer, she dropped the bag and fled.
Patrolling the city center as he had for years, the sergeant moved slowly through the unusually deserted streets, the downpour keeping most pedestrians indoors. The patrol cars headlights illuminated the few figures hurrying home beneath umbrellas.
Something caught his eyea small figure standing motionless in the roadway, seemingly forgotten under the relentless rain. Her thin frame was wrapped in a gray cloak, the bright pink backpack stark against the gloom.
Alarmed, he pulled over and called out, but at the sound of his voice, the girl spun aroundthen bolted.
“Stop!” he shouted, giving chase.
As she ran, she suddenly tore off the backpack and flung it onto the wet pavement before vanishing into a dark alley.
He grabbed the soaked bag, surprised by its weight. Inside, he found neatly packaged bundlesamphetamines, prepped for distribution. Worse still, counterfeit passports with childrens photos, SIM cards, and a flash drive.
A chill ran down his spine. Child trafficking tied to drug distribution? This was far darker than street-level crime.
He scanned the area, but the girl was goneleaving only the backpack and a deepening sense of dread.
