The afternoon sun was beginning to soften over the quiet town of Bellwood when Daniel Mercer stepped out of his old pickup truck.

At seventy-two, Daniel had learned to move slowly without ever appearing weak.

He closed the driver's door carefully, checked that he had locked it, and stood for a moment beside the truck.

The road was almost empty.

A few houses sat beyond the trees. A church steeple could be seen in the distance, and somewhere behind the fields, a dog barked twice before falling silent.

Daniel adjusted the collar of his beige work shirt.

It was an ordinary shirt.

That was what he liked about it.

He had spent most of his life avoiding anything that attracted attention.

His trousers were clean but worn. His brown leather belt had been repaired twice. His shoes had seen better years.

There was nothing remarkable about him.

At least, that was what most people would have thought.

Daniel reached into his pocket and touched the edge of his wallet.

The wallet was old.

Very old.

The leather had darkened with age, and the corners had softened from decades of use.

Inside it was a photograph of his late wife, Margaret.

There was also an old driver's license, a few banknotes, and something Daniel had carried for almost forty years.

A small metal badge.

He rarely looked at it.

He rarely talked about it.

And he had never told anyone in Bellwood why he still carried it.

Daniel started walking.

He had only gone a few steps when he heard an engine behind him.

A police vehicle slowed down.

Daniel stopped.

The cruiser came to a complete halt several yards away.

A police officer stepped out.

He was a broad-shouldered man in his early forties, wearing a dark uniform and black gloves.

Two other officers remained behind him.

Daniel looked at the officer.

The officer looked at Daniel.

For several seconds, neither man spoke.

Then the officer walked closer.

"Sir, I need to ask you a few questions."

Daniel nodded.

"Of course."

The officer studied him.

"Do you have identification?"

Daniel reached slowly toward his pocket.

The officer immediately raised one gloved hand.

"Slowly."

Daniel stopped.

"All right."

There was something strange in the officer's voice.

Not anger.

Not exactly suspicion.

Fear.

Daniel noticed it.

He had spent enough years around law enforcement to recognize the difference.

The officer was not simply investigating him.

He was trying to understand something.

Something that frightened him.

Daniel finally removed his wallet.

He opened it.

The officer looked down.

And the moment he saw what was inside, his expression changed.

The badge.

The old metal badge.

The officer stared at it.

Daniel closed the wallet.

But it was too late.

The officer had seen it.

And somewhere inside Bellwood, a secret that had been buried for decades had just begun to surface.

"Where did you get that?"

The officer's voice was quieter now.

Daniel looked at him.