The officer ignored the question.
His attention stayed on the biker.
“You should’ve told me,” he said quietly.
The biker looked up.
“You didn’t ask.”
The officer let out a slow breath and glanced again at the patch and the coin.
The realization seemed to settle on him.
Another officer arrived and walked over.
“What did he do?” he asked.
The first officer hesitated.
“I’m not sure he did anything.”
The second officer frowned.
“He was reported for threatening someone inside the diner.”
The biker shook his head slightly.
“I told a guy to leave the waitress alone.”
The first officer looked back toward the diner.
Through the window they could see a shaken young waitress near the counter while a man argued loudly with the manager.
The situation suddenly made more sense.
But what unsettled the officer most wasn’t the argument inside.
It was the coin.
And the patch.
He reached for the handcuffs.
But before unlocking them, he asked one more question.
His voice was quieter now.
Respectful.
“You were there, weren’t you?”
The biker didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he looked across the street at the dog tag tied to the lamppost.
Then he nodded once.
That was the moment the officer’s posture changed completely.