Fiona’s intuition had spiked as this man and girl, about eight years old in her estimation, walked into the café. She gave her glasses a gentle shove at the bridge of her nose as if to sharpen her sight. The girl had dark circles under her eyes and her tangled hair struggled against a few haphazard clips. Her cold gaze betrayed experiences too harsh for such tender years. The man had walked close, steering her by the shoulder. She carried a tattered backpack, with a rainbow motif had all but disappeared. This was not a girl on a holiday, Fiona thought. Then a bell rang in the back of her mind, they seemed oddly familiar. She had seen his light brown eyes, hair and slim build before.