Jordan looked toward the equipment entrance again.
Still closed.
Coach Brennan had said two minutes.
That had been maybe eight.
Jordan unfolded the jersey himself.
Purple.
White numbers trimmed in gold.
Across the back:
SHEPARD.
Officer Mercer stopped.
Jordan saw recognition.
Not of the person.
Of the number.
Everyone in Pine Valley knew 32.
Or thought they did.
Mercer looked from the jersey to Jordan.
“Where did you get that?”
“Coach Brennan.”
Mercer stared.
“Try again.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened.
“That’s where.”
“That jersey belongs to the school.”
“No.”
“It’s been stored here for years.”
“I know.”
The officer held out his hand.
Jordan did not give it to him.
Mercer looked toward the name.
“SHEPARD.”
Then at Jordan.
“Your name?”
“Jordan Ellis.”
The officer smiled.
Not kindly.
“Exactly.”
Jordan felt heat move into his face.
“He was my brother.”
Mercer’s expression changed, but only for a second.
“Who?”
“Malik Shepard.”
The officer stared.
Jordan waited.
Mercer looked at the jersey again.
Then a strange little smile appeared.
“Malik Shepard.”
“Yes.”
“The Malik Shepard?”
Jordan hated the way he said it.
He knew that tone.
Adults used it when someone’s name came with a story already attached.
“Yes.”
Mercer gave a quiet laugh.
“You expect me to believe you’re his brother?”
Jordan’s fingers tightened around the jersey.
“Different fathers.”
“Convenient.”
Jordan looked directly at him.
“What?”
Mercer held out his hand again.
“The jersey.”
“No.”
The officer’s smile disappeared.
“Son.”
“It belongs to my family.”
“It belongs in school storage.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Mercer stepped closer.
Jordan stood.
Not aggressively.
He simply no longer wanted to be sitting beneath a man who had decided not to believe him.
Mercer immediately changed his posture.
“Stay seated.”
Jordan stared.
“You just told me to show you the jersey.”
“I didn't tell you to stand.”
Jordan sat again.
Slowly.
The officer reached down.
Jordan moved the jersey back.
Mercer’s voice hardened.
“Do not make this difficult.”
Jordan looked at the body camera.
Then at the officer.
“Can you call Coach Brennan?”
“I’m asking the questions.”
Jordan took a breath.
“Okay.”
“Where did you get this?”
“Coach Brennan handed it to me.”
“When?”
“Like ten minutes ago.”
“Why?”
Jordan hesitated.
The ceremony was supposed to remain private until six.
Not secret exactly.
But Coach Brennan had asked Jordan not to tell teammates because Pine Valley administrators wanted the announcement made with Jordan’s mother present.