No one standing behind the scrub.

The box was close enough to the pavement that a driver pulling over carelessly could have struck it.

I touched the radio on my shoulder.

“Dispatch, I’m checking the package now.”

“Copy.”

I stood a few feet away, still deciding how to proceed, when I heard something inside.

Not crying.

A small, uneven movement against cardboard.

I called for another unit and medical assistance, then moved closer.

Something brushed the inside of the lid again.

I pulled my knife from its sheath and cut the first strip.

The tape gave with a dry snap.

I cut the second strip, then the third, keeping the blade shallow and away from whatever was beneath it.

The lid lifted only an inch before I stopped.