Mark frowned slightly. Years of service had trained him to see what others might miss — tension, fear, or the quiet signs of distress that never made a sound.

Something about this scene wasn’t right.

He watched as the man leaned forward. The little girl’s shoulders tensed, and she subtly moved back in her seat.

Mark’s pulse quickened.

He stood, walked over, and said with an easy smile, “Hey there, those are some cool shoes you’ve got. My daughter used to love pink ones just like that.”