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"I saw a woman leaving with my backpack in hand. I chased her but I was wearing these," I said. and showed him my heels. "I couldn't run fast enough to catch up."

I described the younger woman – dressed in ordinary clothes, jeans, a long black sweater, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"What's the chance that I'll ever see my backpack and ID again?"

He turned to me and looked me squarely in the eye. "I don't like to be the bearer of bad news, but you will probably never see any of your possessions again. It's highly unlikely that we will recover your property. In the future, keep your backpack on or keep it between your knees. The place is teeming with pickpockets and thieves."

I nodded. I'd already figured this crime was so common that the cops would rarely even try to do anything about it besides take a report.

"You could check local pawn shops for anything of value in your backpack, but they'll likely remove the SIM card from your cell, and wipe your laptop so you'll never see them again. The wallet?" He crossed his arms and chewed on his swizzle stick. "You have to call the bank and report any credit and debit cards. Call Social Security to report a stolen SSN. It'll take a while to get replacements. You'll need to go to the passport office and get a new passport, but that'll take a couple of weeks."

"I don't have any ID."

He shrugged. "Call your family."

"I can't."

He raised his eyebrows. "Family problems?"

I nodded and glanced away. "I'm just trying to stay independent. This is my first time away from home. I don't want to go running back to my father if I don't have to."

"No aunt, uncle, cousin, or best friend who can help?"

"Yes, but how do they get money to me here when I have no ID? I can't even go to Western Union."

He squinted like he didn't believe me. "You know absolutely no one in Manhattan?"

Of course, I did know some people. Or at least, some people knew me. They knew my father, who had associates here, and I had no doubt that they would be very willing to curry favor with him by helping his errant daughter. They were the last people I wanted to rely on. I was trying to escape my father's world. But it was looking increasingly like I had no other choice.

"I know my new boss. That's it." I sat there, disheartened.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"I'm in an Airbnb until Monday, when I get an apartment in Chelsea, but the cashier's check was in my backpack."

"Cashier's check?"

"It was a private deal. A sublet."

He sat back, his eyes on me, his expression grimly amused. "Chelsea? Pretty swank area for a newcomer. How much you paying?"

"You don't want to know," I repeated, and took a deep breath. "I used up almost all my savings so I could afford a place in Manhattan."

"You and a hundred thousand other hopefuls. You say you have a job?"

I told him about my internship. "I start this afternoon. It's unpaid. I'm hoping to get a paid position once the internship is over."

"You moved to Manhattan for an unpaid internship?" Sgt. Barnes shook his head as he finished up typing and clicked to print the report. "That's either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish."

"Maybe both," I said with a rueful laugh.

The printer beside Sgt. Barnes hummed into action and spat out a sheet of paper. He took it and handed me a pen, pointing to where I should sign for the police report.

"You've had a very bad day. Look," he said and leaned forward, sympathy finally touching his eyes. "I don't know what's up with your family that you don't want to contact them, but this is kind of an emergency. You're broke. You have no ID. You need to call someone and get help. It's that or you start dumpster-diving and sleeping under the Brooklyn Bridge with the vagrants, but you wouldn't like the food. I can tell by looking at you that you're not cut out for the free-food lifestyle or the open-air sleeping concept."

I covered my eyes, finally overcome with emotion. "I know," I said, biting back tears. "My only hope is to ask my new boss to accept a money transfer on my behalf." I glanced at him to see his response.

"Are you sure you the job isn't a scam, too?"

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