"Get what?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
Daniel looked down at the wallet in his hand.
The officer's eyes remained fixed on it.
Daniel sighed.
"I've had it for a long time."
"How long?"
"Longer than you've probably been alive."
The officer's jaw tightened.
One of the other officers took a step forward.
"Detective Harris," she said quietly.
The main officer raised his hand.
"Stay back."
Daniel noticed the name.
Harris.
Detective Michael Harris.
He remembered it.
Not the man.
The name.
Names had a way of surviving when people didn't.
Harris extended his hand.
"Give me the wallet."
Daniel didn't move.
"Why?"
"Because I need to see that badge."
Daniel looked into the detective's eyes.
"You already saw it."
"I need to examine it."
Daniel shook his head.
"No."
The word was calm.
But firm.
Harris frowned.
"Sir, this isn't optional."
Daniel smiled sadly.
"You've been saying that to people for years, haven't you?"
Harris stepped closer.
Daniel could see the tension in his face.
The detective wasn't used to being questioned.
But Daniel had no intention of making this easy.
"That badge belonged to someone," Harris said.
Daniel nodded.
"Yes."
"Who?"
Daniel looked toward the distant fields.
"My brother."
Harris went still.
"Your brother?"
Daniel said nothing.
"What's his name?"
Daniel looked back at him.
"Thomas Mercer."
The name struck Harris like a physical blow.
The other officers exchanged confused looks.
Harris's expression changed completely.
He stared at Daniel.
Then at the wallet.
Then back at Daniel.
"That's impossible."
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Because Thomas Mercer died thirty-eight years ago."
"I know."
Harris swallowed.
"Then how do you have his badge?"
Daniel opened the wallet again.
He carefully removed the metal badge.
It was scratched and faded.