During patrol, I noticed a little girl standing under a tree, crying: when she saw me, she suddenly stopped crying and did something strange
My patrol began like any other—sunlit streets, a few passersby, and Rex, my aging but sharp German Shepherd, at my side. Everything seemed calm until I noticed a little girl beneath a tree, weeping alone.
I pulled over and approached gently. “Are you lost?” I asked. But the moment her eyes met mine, her tears stopped. Too suddenly. Her face turned eerily calm.
Rex growled—a rare warning, especially around children. The girl only stared past me, as though waiting for someone. I followed her gaze. At the corner stood two men in dark coats, watching intently.
It clicked: the crying child was bait. A lure to draw in anyone who cared enough to help. I discreetly called for backup, but when I moved closer, the men bolted. Rex and I gave chase, catching them in the next yard. One carried rope and a gag, the other a knife. Both were part of a kidnapping network spanning multiple cities.
As for the girl—she was a victim’s daughter, forced into the scheme under threats. When she saw my badge, she couldn’t keep up the act. If not for Rex’s instincts, the trap might have closed around me instead.
