I reached for the buttons of my trench coat.

“What are you doing?” my mother asked, her voice wavering. “Are you stripping? Have you no shame?”

I undid the belt and let the coat fall open.

Underneath, I was wearing a tailored black suit. And pinned to the lapel was a gold badge that caught the dim light of the room. It wasn’t a police badge. It was the seal of the Department of Justice.

And hanging from my belt was my ID card.