I did not lower my hands, but I did not raise them either.

Instead, I reached slowly inside my wet jacket, my fingers wrapping around the cold leather wallet.

“Hold it right there!” the deputy screamed, his finger tightening on the trigger of his shotgun.

“Let him draw it, Deputy,” Mercer sneered, stepping closer. “Give me a reason.”

I pulled my hand out of my jacket, holding the small black leather folder flat in the palm of my hand.

I flipped it open, letting the faint light from the kitchen illuminate the silver and blue seal inside.

It was not a badge, and it did not have a name.

It carried only a five-digit authorization code and the raised emblem of Task Group Orion.

“Call your dispatch, Mercer,” I said, my voice steady against the wind.

“Give them the clearance number on the blue card.”

“Tell them Arthur Hale is on site.”

The deputy with the shotgun hesitated, his eyes darting from the badge to Mercer’s face.

Mercer frowned, his confident smirk faltering slightly as his flashlight beam focused on the silver emblem.