Mom opened the case fully, and inside lay a gold badge, its edges worn smooth with age. Etched across it were the words “Federal Marshal, Retired.” A hush fell over the checkout line. The security guard stared, then slowly straightened and stepped back. “Ma’am,” he whispered, “that is real.” Mom looked at the fainted woman on the floor and said quietly, “I know exactly who she is.”

Then she turned to me, calm as ever. “Sweetheart, remember the accident nine years ago?” I nodded, confused. “That was no accident.” Before I could speak, the loudspeakers crackled again. “Employees, secure all exits. Do not let the woman in the blue coat leave.” Every head turned toward the doors, where a woman in a blue coat was already walking fast.