“That is not relevant to the theft report.”
Langley looked amused.
“I’m curious.”
“I’m not.”
Pike laughed.
Two officers working at nearby desks looked over.
One was Marissa Doyle, twenty-nine, who had been entering property reports into a computer. The other was Sergeant Wade Carver, a heavyset man in his late forties with thinning hair and a habit of leaning backward when speaking as though every conversation were already boring him.
Carver walked toward the counter.
“What have we got?”
Langley handed him the photocopy.
Carver read it.
His expression changed from curiosity to skepticism.
“This supposed to be yours?”
“It is mine.”
Carver looked at Terrence carefully.
“You’re telling me you were a United States Army general?”
“I am telling you I retired as one.”
Carver laughed through his nose.
“How many stars?”
“Four at retirement.”
That brought another laugh from Pike.
Langley shook his head.
“Four-star general drives that?”
He pointed through the window at the Ford pickup.
Terrence looked toward his truck.
“It starts.”
Pike laughed again.
Even Carver smiled.
Terrence did not.
He reached for the photocopy.
“I would like to finish the theft report.”
Langley did not return it immediately.
Instead he looked again at the Silver Star Medal.
“Where’d you buy this?”
Terrence’s eyes lifted slowly.
“I did not buy it.”
“You can get these online.”
“So I’m told.”
“You know wearing military decorations you didn’t earn can get you into trouble.”
“I earned it.”
Langley looked at Pike.
“If this guy’s a four-star general, I’m the President of the United States.”
Pike laughed loudly.
A woman waiting in one of the plastic chairs looked up.
She was in her seventies, holding a purse in both hands.
Beside her sat a young man filling out paperwork after a minor car accident.
Both watched.
Terrence extended his hand.
“My documents.”
Langley kept holding the photocopy.
“Not yet.”
The atmosphere changed.
Terrence felt it immediately.
The joking had crossed into procedure.
Or what the officers wanted to present as procedure.
“Why not?”
Carver answered.
“Because we need to verify them.”
“That is reasonable.”
Terrence nodded toward the computer.
“Please do.”
Carver seemed disappointed by the response.
Langley looked at the metal box again.
“You carry this stuff around often?”
“No.”
“So why today?”
“I was delivering copies of old service records to the veterans’ center after leaving the hardware store.”
“Convenient.”
Terrence studied him.
“For whom?”
Langley’s smile faded.
Carver stepped closer.
“Sir, don’t make this difficult.”
“I came here voluntarily.”
“And now we’re investigating something.”
“What exactly?”
Carver folded his arms.
“Potential forged government credentials.”
Terrence was silent for a moment.
Then:
“Based on what evidence?”
Langley gestured vaguely at Terrence’s clothing.
That small gesture told Terrence almost everything.
He looked at it.
Then at Langley.
“You have already decided the document is false because you do not think I look like the person described on it.”
Langley’s jaw tightened.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No.”
Terrence’s voice remained calm.
“You didn’t need to.”
Doyle had come closer now.
Her phone was in her hand.
She watched with an expression halfway between curiosity and amusement.
Carver picked up one of the photographs.
It showed Terrence decades younger, wearing dress uniform at a military ceremony.
Another senior officer stood beside him.
Carver squinted.
“Could be anybody.”
Terrence said nothing.
Carver looked at the old military photocopy.
“This thing is ancient.”
“It is a copy of an older credential.”
“Where is the current one?”
“In the stolen wallet.”
The answer irritated Carver because it was perfectly logical.
He set the photograph down.
“Langley.”
“Yes, Sergeant?”