Before he could say anything else, a uniformed officer passing nearby slowed his steps, having overheard the conversation. He was a broad shouldered man in his late thirties, with a calm face that suggested patience rather than authority. His name badge read Reynolds, and he approached with a measured ease that immediately softened the tension in the air.
“I can spare a few minutes,” Officer Reynolds said, crouching down so that he was at eye level with the little girl. “What seems to be the problem.”
The relief on the parents faces was immediate, as though someone had finally taken a heavy weight off their chests. “Thank you,” the father said quickly. “We really appreciate it. Sweetheart, this is the police officer I told you about. You can talk to him now.”
The little girl sniffled, her lower lip trembling as she studied the man in uniform with cautious intensity. She took a small step forward, then stopped, uncertainty written across her face.
“Are you really a police officer,” she asked in a soft, shaky voice that barely carried across the lobby.