For a second, the room seemed to hold its breath.
The man at the table shifted. His jaw tightened, and he leaned forward. “She doesn’t need candy,” he said sharply, his voice thick with control.
Michael kept his posture relaxed, but inside, he was braced like a spring. “No harm done,” he replied calmly, offering a polite smile. “Just trying to make a little one’s day.”
The woman’s eyes darted toward him, almost imperceptibly, as though she was silently begging him not to leave.
Michael rose slowly and returned to his booth, heart pounding. He had to be careful, but he couldn’t ignore what he’d seen. Pulling out his phone beneath the table, he typed a discreet message to the local sheriff’s department. Then he waited.
Minutes stretched long. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the little girl unwrapped the candy and clutched it in her palm as if it were more than a treat—it was a lifeline.
Finally, the sound of a bell jingled over the diner door. Two deputies stepped inside, uniforms crisp, voices calm as they greeted the waitress. They scanned the room, and Michael subtly nodded toward the booth in the corner.
“Afternoon,” one deputy said pleasantly as he approached the man. “Mind if we have a quick word?”
The man stiffened. “About what?”
