The rain had just begun when the black SUV pulled up in front of the old convenience store. Rocco Moretti stepped out to make a call, but before he could dial, a small voice reached him from behind.
“Sir… sir, can you buy my bicycle?”
He turned. A little girl stood there, clutching a rusty pink bicycle, shivering in the rain. Her shoes were worn through, her face pale, and her eyes carried a weight no child should bear.
Rocco frowned.
“What are you doing here all alone?”
She pushed the bicycle toward him with both hands.
“Please. Mom hasn’t eaten in days. I can’t sell things from the house, so I’m selling my bicycle.”
A knot tightened in Rocco’s stomach. Children usually avoided him. Adults feared him. But this girl was desperate enough to approach a man like him.
—How long has it been since you ate? —he asked quietly.
The girl hesitated before whispering: “Since the men arrived.”
Rocco’s eyes narrowed.
“What men?”
