The boy stared at the policeman’s tattoo. “My dad had the same one,” he said—and the officer went rigid.

He pointed toward a familiar ochre-colored building.

The municipal children’s home.

Bastien’s pulse quickened.

A child in foster care. A rare tattoo. And a description that already felt dangerously familiar.

“Do you remember your dad?” Bastien asked carefully. “What was he like?”