Stolen in Love

by G. G. Andrew

  “Good girl,” he growled.

  Nudging the junk out of the way with a gloved hand, he pulled the flash drive out and slid it into his pocket. Then he walked back down the steps and into the sunshine.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kim

  Kim always had a backup plan. True, she was impulsive and prone to rash decisions, but maybe that’s why she’d also learned to think on her feet, to figure out how to clean the mess she’d made before the stain set.

  She’d given Scott the flash drive with copies of the files on it. She knew he’d insist, and she could hardly refuse him. More than ever, seeing those women’s names had shown her something big was going on, something that involved more than her, and maybe Scott could catch whoever was doing it. That’s why she’d decided to file a police report, too, as awkward as it’d been at the station with half the cops recognizing her and half of those giving her the stink eye.

  But, before she’d left Prue Davenport’s, she’d asked the consultant to print her out that list, which she’d shoved in her purse.

  Destani Jenkins, Melody Brady, Melissa Cooper. Those were the names on the very back of that list. The document was over twenty pages, and Kim figured the police would start at the very beginning, questioning the women and trying to find a connection between them. She’d flipped to that page because those were the women she had to warn, who might not know their pictures and phone numbers and secrets were out there until the damage had been done. Scott could start at his end, and she’d start at hers.

  She hadn’t been able to look at any other pages yet. It was so overwhelming it made her stomach hurt. Those three women were enough for now. She’d start there.

  Destani Jenkins worked at a big box store on the edge of town, a place that sold computers and other electronic equipment. Kim had been a few times, though not since last year. She snuck out that Friday morning while Laurel was doing her landscaping in the back and Jamie was working on his piece in the front. In her sister’s tiny downstairs bathroom, she dressed in her favorite jean skirt and a short-sleeved purple sweater. She tugged on a bright yellow pair of rain boots, because the sun was playing peekaboo with the clouds and you never knew in April.

  Outside, an older couple was dawdling on the sidewalk, watching Jamie like he was an exhibit at the zoo. It was windy, the kind of weather that heralds a dramatic temperature shift, and Kim felt it in her very nerve endings.

  For the past two days, her life had been on pause. Her fear had paralyzed her, and the loss of her job had mired her. Her feelings for Scott Culpepper were a confusing swirl around her, changing by the hour. She needed a way forward, and after Prue had opened that list, she saw it. She could warn these women. Help them if she could.

  The computer box store was almost empty this early in the morning, and it was quiet, only the hum of electronics in the background. It smelled like plastic but also sterile, like a Band-Aid. She recognized Destani right away. With her petite build, strawberry blond hair, and smooth skin, she could’ve passed for younger, but Kim knew she was nineteen—the document had listed her birthdate, along with her blog address and cell number. She wore a blue vest over her clothes and seemed bored out of her mind as she unboxed a carton of batteries near the checkout at the front.

  Kim stood in the middle of the store, in a row of printer cartridges. She could go up to Destani any time, but inexplicably she felt shy. What could she say to her? Hey, did you know someone might’ve posted compromising pictures of you online? Or, Yes, I’d like to buy this ream of paper, and have you dated any douchebags recently?

  All of a sudden, it sounded crazy to Kim, and not a little creepy. What if all those women hadn’t been harassed? What if it’d been a mistake? What if she was being too impulsive?

  She ran her fingers along the edges of the cartridge boxes, biding her time as she snuck glances at the girl.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large man in another blue vest come up behind Destani and tell her something. He had an orange tag that indicated he was the manager. Kim drifted down the aisle, but when she caught a better look at the man, she stopped in her tracks. Her stomach clenched.

  She recognized him.

  It took half a minute to sift through the alphabet soup of her stealing memories to recall him. Then it came to her: a stationary store downtown a year and a half ago. She’d tried to take a set of envelopes—cream-colored with ladybugs—and he’d caught her. It struck her because he was a guy, and tall, and so not the sort of person you’d expect to manage a stationary shop with ladybug envelopes. Apparently he didn’t work there anymore. Apparently he worked here.

  Back then, he’d been irate. He had fat fingers and a deep voice he wasn’t afraid to use.

  And she was in his store again.

  Kim turned her face away, her heart pounding. She couldn’t let him see her. He’d think she was there for all the wrong reasons. She needed to talk to Destani, but she had to keep hidden. How?

  Hastily, she grabbed the nearest print cartridge and held it, pretending to study it. She walked until she was behind a cardboard display, in case he was the type to value customer service. Her boots squeaked together and she almost shushed them.

  She overhead the manager instructing Destani in low tones, and her responding back in a softer voice that was swallowed in the background hum.

  Another customer came into the store, an older woman who bought some device from Destani at the checkout. Kim ventured quick looks out of the corner of her eye. Her fingers gripped the printer cartridge she held, her nails indenting the cardboard. At her next glance, the manager was gone. She guessed he’d gone to the back of the store and she exhaled a shaky breath. The customer paid for her purchase and left.

  Now. Kim had to approach her now, before the manager came back. She shuffled to the end of the aisle, a straight shot to Destani at the checkout counter. The girl was doodling on a pad.

  Kim realized she hadn’t put down the cartridge, and she stuffed it under her arm. She’d deal with it later. She looked down, gathering her courage.

  “Hey!”

  Her head shot up.

  The manager was back.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He was behind Destani, he was looking straight at her, and he was already angry. He recognized her right away.

  “I know you.”

  Kim opened her mouth to speak, but only a squawk came out. Her tongue felt like paper.

  The tall manager’s eyes drifted to her armpit, and with a start Kim realized he was seeing the cartridge. The one she’d stuffed there. The one she’d intended to put back.

  He raised his voice. “You think you can pull this again?”

  “This isn’t what you think!” Kim exclaimed, her voice coming out hoarse. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—”

  He shook his head, his voice booming. “You think you can just waltz in here, and…” His eyes were hard. “I’m calling the cops.”

  Destani was staring at her, her mouth a perfect o. She wasn’t bored anymore.

  “Don’t. I swear. Whatever you think, I didn’t,” Kim said. She walked halfway to the checkout counter, spreading her hands. Too late, the cartridge fell from her armpit and thudded on the floor. Shit.

  But it was no use, because he knew her to be a thief, and people didn’t change. The manager patted down his pockets, like he was looking for his cell, and pointed a meaty finger at her. “You stay there.” He walked a short distance to a workroom behind the corner and snatched up a cell, his eyes spearing her in place.

  Destani’s eyes studied Kim, and then her gaze fell to the cardboard box on the floor. “That’s like the crappiest brand of cartridge we sell,” she said. “People are always returning it.”

  “Someone’s messing with you,” Kim said in a hurry.

  The girl screwed up her lips. “What?”

  “Do you have an ex? Some guy who’s pissed off at you?” She took another two steps forward, but when the manager
shot daggers at her, she froze. “I found a list,” she whispered. “A list of what I think are women who are being targeted online. Like harassed and having their private information and pictures put up. Your name was on it.”

  The girl’s lips parted, and an expression of anger passed across her face. “Aidan,” she said.

  “You haven’t seen anything?”

  The girl shook her head.

  The manager was saying, “Okay, okay,” in the background like his call was about to end, and Kim added in a hurry, “Write this number down.” She rattled off her digits as the girl scribbled them next to her doodle. “Call me. I have a friend who can look around for you, and help you figure out how to contact websites to get stuff taken down.”

  The manager walked their way, the phone still pressed to his ear. “He’s just around the corner?” he said. “Good. This one needs to go off to jail.”

  Kim bristled, and as he ended his call he pointed at her. “It’s your lucky day. A police officer was already in the neighborhood, and they’re sending him over. I’m sure he’d loved to meet you.” He glanced through the front windows. “Look, there he is now.”

  Kim turned towards the entrance.

  In walked Scott Culpepper, in full uniform. His eyes swept the store, and then they landed on her.

  “Shit,” Kim said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kim

  “Officer.” The manager started speaking even before the door had shut behind Scott. “This woman tried to rip off a printer cartridge from our store. I told her to stay put. Unfortunately, this isn’t her first offense. Trust me.”

  Scott stared at her, his jaw tight.

  “I didn’t steal anything.” Kim ignored the manager, addressing Scott only. “I just tucked it under my arm. I was going to put it back.”

  The manager scoffed. “Put it back? Ah, that’s rich. Trust me, she was stealing it.”

  Scott walked towards them. As he got closer, she saw a nerve in his jaw was twitching. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice even.

  Kim hardened her voice. “I said I wasn’t going to take it.”

  “She’s lying, Officer. She stole something from the stationary store where I worked last year.” The man stepped closer.

  “I’m not lying.”

  Scott glanced at Destani, who was staring off into space, a look of incredulity on her face. She was still processing what Kim had told her, probably freaking out about what was posted online about her, maybe wanting to hop on her phone immediately. She caught the officer gazing at her, jumped, and then shrugged to his questioning glance.

  It was as good as a conviction. Ugh. This is what she got for trying to help. Totally figured.

  “Did you see her trying to steal this?” Scott asked her.

  “I don’t know.” The girl shrugged. “I mean, she had it under her arm, but she doesn’t look like a criminal. I’m not sure.” Kim could see the wheels in her head turning, see that she was questioning Kim herself now.

  “You’re not sure what you saw?” Scott pressed.

  She looked between the officer and Kim.

  The manager was exasperated. “Destani,” he said with a warning.

  “I’m not sure!” she said.

  Scott whipped a pad out of his pocket and jotted down a few notes. He studied the fallen cartridge. “Is this it?”

  “Yes,” the manager replied crisply.

  Scott took a deep breath and exhaled. He kneeled and picked up the box. His eyes found hers again. They were still hard, but a flicker in them looked almost beseeching.

  The manager crossed his arms. He tapped a foot against the linoleum floor. “Well, aren’t you going to read her those Miranda rights or something?”

  “Sir, did she cross the threshold with the item?” Scott asked.

  “Well, no,” the man said, flustered. “But obviously she was going to!”

  “I wasn’t,” Kim whispered to him.

  Without a word, Scott straightened up, moved to set the box on the counter, shoved the notebook in his pocket, and walked towards her. He stood in front of her, blocking her view of the manager and Destani.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to need to search your purse.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she thrust it at him. “Certainly, sir.”

  He didn’t find anything, but still his expression was tense, his voice was low and careful. “I need to take you down to the station and straighten this out.”

  “Scott, seriously? I didn’t do it.”

  But he didn’t believe her. Of course. She was a thief, and she had a long sheet. She’d also fibbed to him a couple times recently.

  “Aren’t you going to cuff her?” the manager interrupted, moving closer.

  Sighing hard, he put his hands on his hips and spoke robotically while he studied the floor. “Probable cause has not been established here, sir. I’ve got to release her.”

  “Well, I never…” The manager moved closer.

  “Sir, I’m going to ask you to step back.” Scott sounded like he was about to wheel and punch the guy’s lights out. He didn’t meet her eyes.

  Her face flushed hot with humiliation. She’d been through this before, and it never got any better, but this time she hadn’t done it.

  “Let’s go.” Scott put a hand on her forearm and guided her to the exit. Destani and the manager silently watched them leave.

  He kept his hand on her once they got outside and wordlessly directed her steps towards his patrol car. She opened her mouth to ask what to do about her car in the lot, then thought wisely to keep her mouth shut. Force of habit, maybe. She’d learned from experience, and from her defense attorney brother, to say as little as possible to the law. Though her body shook from the effort of keeping her words in.

  More like her angry shouts.

  He led her to the backseat of the patrol car, opened the door, and avoided her eyes as she climbed in. He slammed the door behind her. The car reeked of nicotine and spearmint gum, but the leather seat was cool, which she was briefly grateful for—at least it hadn’t been recently occupied. She knew she didn’t have to get in the car with him, that she was free to go, but for some reason she did anyway.

  Scott got in the driver’s seat, slid the key into the ignition, and gunned the engine, driving out of the lot.

  “I didn’t steal anything, you know.” She didn’t bother to keep the rage out of her voice.

  People believed what they wanted to believe, based on her past, and apparently people included Scott. She was humiliated—but she was also angry as fuck, and that dried up the tears that threatened to spill.

  When the car turned out of the lot, he began speaking rapidly, like he’d been holding back too. “Tell me something, Kim. How come the daughter of successful lawyers, who probably has a trust fund, can’t find a way to legally purchase a printer cartridge? Take it to the register, hand over your credit card, take your bag, and tell the cashier to have a nice day. Is it that hard?”

  He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, and she glared back. She fought off the urge to kick the back of his seat. “Are you that much of a dick?” she said. “Did you not hear what I’ve been saying? I don’t think I was going to steal it.”

  “Those store employees certainly think you did. You’re lucky you didn’t cross the threshold, or I would’ve had to write you a summons or take you to the station.” He met her eyes again in mirror. “Wait, you don’t think?”

  “Sometimes my hands have a mind of their own. You know, like your hands last night...or your lips the night before that.”

  He jerked the wheel, turning sharply into the next shopping center.

  Kim was breathing hard. “I bet you really regret helping me now, don’t you? Or kissing me.” She wanted to hurt him as much as she was hurting. “It’s one thing to make out with a woman with a police record, and it’s another thing to make out with her and then have to almost arrest her.”

  He sped to the area behind the
stores, back where there were dumpsters and not much else. He braked to a hard stop, then sat silently, glaring out the windshield.

  She squirmed in the backseat, wondering what he was going to do next. “Are you going to make me walk home as punishment?” She tugged down her jean skirt. “I don’t even have a printer, you know. Why would I need to steal a cartridge?”

  “I don’t know, Kim,” he snapped. “Why would you need a tampon box full of cosmetics?”

  Without waiting for her to respond, he yanked the key out of the ignition, leapt out of the car, and slammed the door behind him. He paced beside the vehicle, running his fingers through his hair and mouthing what looked like a few chosen curse words.

  She let him stew a few minutes, before she knocked on the car window. She couldn’t open it on her own, and for a minute it looked like he wasn’t going to let her out. With an exhale, he snatched open the door and walked away to lean his hands on the side of the car, his head hanging down in profile and his shoulders tense and powerful. The strong wind ruffled his hair, and she felt an out-of-place urge to smooth it back.

  She was still pissed, but seeing him so strained made her soften her voice as she stood there. “I know I’m a thief,” she began. “I know I’ve taken things. I’ve even taken things from that guy. But I wasn’t doing that today.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “I was trying to warn that girl. Her name’s on the list.”

  Below the uniform, his forearms tensed. “I told you to let me handle that. It’s police business now.”

  She crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the car. The wind whistled through the sparse trees in the neighborhood and whipped her hair into her face. She pushed it away. “Have the police contacted all those women on the list? To warn them? To try to see what’s been posted about them online?”