Officer Bryant had been on patrol countless times before, driving slowly through the quiet streets of early morning in St. Paul, Minnesota. It was a routine shift, the kind where nothing major ever happened. Yet, as his headlights swept across a deserted side street, something unusual caught his eye—a young girl standing alone, visibly shaken.
Pulling over, he noticed her clothes were wrinkled and her eyes red as if she had been crying for hours. The girl couldn’t have been older than ten. Officer Bryant quickly got out of his squad car, his senses heightened.
“Hey there,” he said, approaching her cautiously, not wanting to scare her further. “Are you okay? What are you doing out here by yourself?”
The girl looked up at him, her face pale under the streetlight, and whispered three chilling words: “They’re still here.”
Bryant froze. The weight of her words, simple as they were, sent a shiver down his spine. Something was terribly wrong.
“Who’s still here?” he asked, lowering himself to her level, his voice calm but firm.
But the girl, Clara, didn’t respond. Instead, she stared down the street, her small body trembling with fear. Bryant’s years of experience told him this was no ordinary situation. He reached for his radio, his voice steady but filled with urgency.
“I need backup on Oakland Avenue, right now.”
As the night pressed in around them, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much darker. The girl’s silence, her haunting words, all pointed to a mystery far bigger than either of them.
Officer Bryant knelt down, bringing himself to Clara’s eye level, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. He could see the fear etched in every inch of her young face—the wide eyes, the trembling hands. Despite the urgency he felt deep in his gut, he needed to handle this carefully.
“Clara, can you tell me where your parents are?” His voice was soft, yet his heart raced as the silence stretched between them.
She didn’t answer, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears, staring ahead, unfocused, as if she could see something far beyond the dark, empty street.
“Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” Bryant pressed, trying to keep the desperation out of his tone.
But nothing. The only sound was the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Clara’s silence was almost more terrifying than any words she could have spoken. Her small shoulders slumped, and she dropped her gaze to the pavement beneath them. Yet, even in her quietness, there was something much louder—a pain no child should bear.
“What do you mean, ‘They’re still here’? Who is here?” he asked, carefully choosing his words, hoping to draw her out of whatever dark place she seemed to be lost in.
But she gave no sign that she heard him. Her silence was suffocating, wrapping around them both like a fog. Every second that passed heightened the tension. Bryant’s mind raced with possibilities. Was someone watching them now? Was the danger closer than he realized?
Without breaking eye contact, he reached for his radio again.
“Dispatch, this is Bryant. The girl’s not talking, and something feels off. Send backup immediately.”
As he waited, Bryant looked back at Clara. The haunted look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. This was no simple case of a child getting lost. Whatever was happening, it was something far more sinister than he could have imagined.
The sound of an approaching squad car echoed through the quiet streets of St. Paul as Officer Anna Castillo arrived on the scene. Known for her sharp instincts, especially with children, she stepped out of the car with quick, purposeful strides. Her eyes met Officer Bryant’s, and she immediately knew something was wrong.
“What’s the situation?” Anna asked, glancing down at Clara, whose small frame seemed even more fragile under the streetlights.
Bryant shook his head slightly, a mix of frustration and concern in his eyes.
“She won’t talk. All I got out of her were three words: ‘They’re still here.’ That’s it.”
Anna’s gaze softened as she crouched next to Clara.
“Hey, sweetie, I’m Anna. We’re here to help you, okay?” Her voice was gentle but confident, the kind that had earned the trust of children time and time again.
But Clara remained mute, her hands clenching the hem of her oversized sweater. There was a slight flinch when Anna got closer, but no words—just the same blank, terrified stare.
“Did you check the area?” Anna asked, straightening up, her voice now firm with a sense of urgency.
Bryant nodded. “I’ve been here the whole time with her. Didn’t want to leave her alone.”
“Okay, I’ll do a sweep,” Anna said, already pulling out her radio. “Dispatch, this is Officer Castillo. We have a potential missing child requesting additional units for a search. We’re at the corner of Oakland Avenue and Evergreen Street.”
As Anna moved swiftly to cover the nearby alleys and shadowed corners, the weight of the situation settled in. The city was calm on most nights; incidents like these were rare, and that made everything feel even more unsettling.
She scanned the surrounding area, her flashlight cutting through the early morning mist, illuminating trash cans, broken fences, and empty windows. Every shadow seemed to hide something. Her instincts told her that whoever Clara was afraid of wasn’t far.
Back at the car, Bryant stayed with Clara, his nerves on edge. He kept looking down the street, half-expecting something or someone to emerge from the darkness. Each minute that passed without answers only thickened the tension.
Suddenly, the crackle of Anna’s voice came through the radio.
“Nothing yet, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Bryant felt the same. Whoever “they” were, Clara believed they were close. And if she was right, time was slipping away.
