Jordan fiddled with the frayed yellow thread on his sleeve.
"Do you know why you're here?" The officer was stern and unmovable.
"No, sir."
"You are a person of interest. The Last Stop Liquor store was robbed at gunpoint last night. What say you?"
"It wasn't me, man."
"Where were you last night between 10:45 and 11:13?"
"Oh. That's easy. I was at The Hell Hole bar with my buddy Marvin, then his place in Saginaw."
"That so?"
"Yeah, check it out." Jordan tugged at the yellow string; it gave way, unraveling a few inches.
"So you weren't there?"
"No. I told you."
"Bad news, Jordan. We've got surveillance photos." He pushed a photo of the scene over.
"Aw, man, that could be anybody. Dude's even got a mask. I'm telling you, I wasn't there."
"Jordan. Look closer."
Jordan grabbed the photo and shook his head. "I don't know what you think I'm going to see. This is clearly someone else." He laid the photo aside and went back to picking the thread.
"How many people have a yellow star patch on their sleeve, Jordan?"
"Oh. I forgot my jacket. Guess I need a lawyer."
"You certainly do."
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