Claire moved slowly.
Her hands were trembling.
She placed the shopping bag flat on the perfume counter.
The entire floor seemed to lean closer.
Claire opened it.
Inside was a cream scarf.
A small cosmetics box.
A folded receipt.
One loose pearl button.
No bracelet.
Claire checked beneath the scarf.
Nothing.
Inside the cosmetics box.
Empty except for a lipstick Denise had purchased elsewhere.
Claire turned the bag over.
Nothing fell out.
Gary’s face went pale.
Thomas stared at Claire.
She wanted the floor to open.
Instead Denise said:
“Receipt.”
Claire unfolded it.
The scarf had been purchased at 2:18 p.m.
Gary had called police at 2:31.
Claire looked at the transaction details.
Nothing else.
She turned toward Gary.
“You said you watched her place the bracelet into this bag.”
Gary recovered enough to answer.
“I did.”
“When?”
“Right before security approached.”
“This bag was closed?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you standing?”
“Near the jewelry counter.”
Denise said:
“No.”
Gary’s voice rose.
“Stop interrupting.”
Thomas took a step.
Denise shot him another warning look.
Claire asked:
“What do you mean, no?”
Denise looked toward the far corner.
“He was in his office.”
Gary laughed.
“She has no way of knowing that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“Because the sales associate who contacted me told me to watch the reflection in the mirrored column.”
Everyone looked.
A decorative mirrored column stood opposite Gary’s office corridor.
Denise continued:
“I saw you come out after the security guard approached me.”
Gary stared at her.
Patel stepped closer.
“What sales associate?”
Denise looked toward the fragrance department.
“She called herself Naomi.”
Gary’s face changed again.
Patel saw it.
“Naomi what?”
Gary answered too quickly.
“We don’t have a Naomi.”
Denise smiled.
There it was.
A genuine smile this time.
“Interesting.”
Gary looked at her.
“You said she left for lunch five minutes ago.”
Silence.
One of the detectives wrote something down.
Claire felt sick.
Chief Reed finally turned toward her.
“Officer Bennett.”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Where is your supervisor?”
Claire reached for her radio.
Before she could transmit, a voice behind them said:
“Right here.”
Sergeant Amelia Knox was crossing the floor.
Forty-five.
Compact build.
Black hair pulled into a bun.
Expression unreadable.
She had been Claire’s supervisor for thirteen months.
Claire had never been so relieved or so terrified to see her.
Knox reached them.
Took in the cuffs.