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

Before Bastien could respond, a woman hurried toward them, concern etched across her face.

“Leo!” she scolded gently. “How many times have I told you not to wander off?”

She pulled the boy closer, instinctively placing herself between him and Bastien. Her eyes assessed Bastien’s posture, his uniform, his badge.

Sylvie Dubois. Director of the home.

“It’s fine,” Bastien said quickly. “We were just talking.”