Gary’s expression changed for a fraction of a second.
Claire did not notice.
Not then.
Denise continued:
“The complete surveillance footage has not been reviewed.”
“Ms. Reed.”
“The sales associate who handed me the bracelet has not been interviewed.”
Gary stepped forward.
“She left for lunch.”
Denise looked toward him.
“No.”
“What?”
“She was standing behind the fragrance counter when you called security.”
Gary’s face remained smooth.
“You’re mistaken.”
Denise almost smiled.
“That is becoming an expensive word for you.”
Claire felt irritation rise again.
“Ms. Reed, if you keep interfering—”
“With my own arrest?”
“You are not under arrest yet.”
Denise slowly turned enough to display the cuffs.
“This is an unusually creative version of freedom.”
Two shoppers whispered.
Claire felt heat rise into her face.
Gary saw it.
“Officer, she has been antagonistic from the moment I approached her.”
Denise laughed once.
“Antagonistic.”
“You accused me of stealing.”
“I asked you to return store property.”
“You asked me to empty my handbag in the middle of the floor before you had established anything was missing.”
Claire said:
“Both of you stop.”
Gary pointed toward the cream shopping bag.
“The bracelet is in there.”
Denise looked at Claire.
“Then open it.”
The answer caught Claire off guard.
Gary’s eyes flicked toward the bag.
Again, Claire missed it.
“Open it,” Denise repeated.
Claire reached toward the shopping bag.
Gary immediately said:
“Shouldn’t loss prevention be present for evidence handling?”
Claire stopped.
He was right procedurally enough to sound convincing.
“There’s a security office upstairs,” he continued. “We can inventory everything there.”
Denise’s gaze moved from Gary to Claire.
Something in her expression shifted.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Claire mistook it for calculation.
“You really think this is going to work?” Claire asked.
Denise’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“This.”
Claire gestured toward her calm posture.
“The legal language. The body camera. Acting like you control what happens next.”
Denise stared at her.
Gary’s mouth almost curved upward.
Claire heard herself continue.
“What, is your husband the police chief?”
The sentence came out sarcastic.
Too loud.
The perfume floor went quiet.
Denise’s face changed.
Not dramatically.
Her anger simply disappeared.
That was worse.
“Officer,” she said quietly.
Claire realized instantly that something had gone wrong.
Before Denise could continue, the department-store entrance doors opened.
A man’s voice crossed the entire floor.
“Yes.”
Every head turned.
Claire did too.
Police Chief Thomas Reed was walking toward them.
He was fifty-nine, broad-shouldered, close-cropped gray at his temples, wearing his formal uniform beneath a heavy overcoat he had not bothered fastening. Two plainclothes detectives entered behind him, followed by an assistant district attorney carrying a hard document case.
Claire forgot how to breathe.
She had seen Chief Reed hundreds of times.
At roll call.
Department ceremonies.
Press conferences.
From fifty feet away during memorial services.
Never like this.
His face was not the controlled public face Claire knew.
He was furious.
His eyes moved first to Denise.
Then to the cuffs.