Chapter 9They caught the light, if not the eye. Shiny, majestic in their way and in what they represented. Even with the florescent lighting beaming down from the diner’s ceiling, there was a glow cast upon them.
The two men were seated in a corner booth. So far, only served a glass of water. That was okay, neither was in a hurry to order, much less to leave. There was a reason for their visit, more than catch up, what was on display between them on the Formica table was emblematic.
Two badges. Silver in color, with a sheen coating them from being un-used. Recently they had been polished.
9701
1023
Jimmy McSwain.
Joseph McSwain.
Everyone possessed an identity within the blue ranks of the NYPD, and these two badges were bonded by family, by history, and by a legacy, and yeah, maybe a
