“Call them.”
Catherine looked uncomfortable.
“We already notified police.”
For the first time, Alicia lost her expression.
Not composure.
Expression.
Her face simply emptied.
“You called police.”
“It’s precautionary.”
“For an approved purchase.”
“For a transaction under review.”
Alicia looked toward Emily.
“Did the system flag my card?”
Emily’s mouth opened.
Catherine interrupted.
“Emily.”
Alicia saw it.
The hesitation.
The manager stopping her.
Alicia asked again.
“Did the terminal flag my card?”
Emily swallowed.
“No.”
Silence.
Catherine turned.
“That is not your determination to make.”
Emily looked shaken.
“The authorization came back approved.”
“Emily.”
“And there wasn’t a fraud alert on my screen.”
Alicia looked at Catherine.
“Then what exactly are the police coming for?”
Catherine’s face flushed.
“Your behavior has become increasingly confrontational.”
Alicia almost laughed.
“My behavior changed after you accused me of buying stolen jewelry with my own credit card.”
“I never said stolen.”
“You told security not to let me leave with merchandise I paid for.”
Catherine stepped closer.
“You need to calm down.”
That sentence did what almost nothing else had.
Alicia’s voice became colder.
“I am calm.”
The front door opened.
Two Chicago police officers entered.
The older officer introduced himself as Sergeant David Mercer.
Late fifties.
White.
Twenty-something years on the force if Alicia had to guess.
Beside him stood Officer Luis Ramirez, younger, Latino, maybe early thirties.
Catherine moved toward them before Alicia could speak.
“Thank you for coming.”
Mercer nodded.
“What’s going on?”
“We have a questionable high-value jewelry transaction.”
Alicia looked at her.
Mercer noticed.
“Possible stolen card?”
Catherine hesitated.
“Potentially.”
Alicia stepped forward.
“No.”
Mercer looked toward her.
“Ma’am, let her finish.”
Alicia stopped.
Catherine continued.
“The customer attempted to leave with a forty-eight-thousand-dollar bracelet before our verification process was complete.”
Emily looked down.
Alicia held up the receipt.
“I did not attempt to leave before verification.”
Mercer looked at the paper.
Alicia continued.
“They verified the transaction.”
“The card was approved.”
“My ID matched.”
“The item was packaged and handed to me.”
Officer Ramirez looked toward Catherine.
“Was the card declined at any point?”
“No.”
“Reported stolen?”
“Not yet.”
Alicia stared at her.
“Not yet?”
Catherine ignored her.
Mercer held out one hand.
“Can I see the receipt?”
Alicia gave it to him.
He read.
Then looked toward the bag.
“May I see the jewelry?”
Alicia paused.
Then handed him the box.
Not because she believed she had to.
Because the situation was already public.
Mercer checked the item number against the receipt.
Matching.
Officer Ramirez spoke to Emily quietly.
“Did you process the sale?”
“Yes.”
“Anything abnormal?”
Emily looked toward Catherine.
Then back at him.
“No.”
Catherine interrupted.
“She does not have access to higher-level fraud controls.”
Ramirez nodded.
“Did you see a higher-level fraud alert?”
Catherine hesitated.
“We had concerns.”
Mercer looked up.
“What concerns?”
Catherine’s composure slipped slightly.
“The circumstances.”
Alicia folded her arms.
“What circumstances?”
Catherine looked at her.
“You came in without an appointment.”
Mercer frowned.
“Is an appointment required?”
“No.”
“You purchased the piece without previously being a client.”
Alicia stared.
Mercer asked:
“Is that prohibited?”
“No.”
“You used a card.”
“Yes.”
“Approved?”
“Yes.”
“ID matched?”
“Yes.”
Catherine’s jaw tightened.
“You’re oversimplifying.”
Officer Ramirez looked toward Alicia’s watch.
Then toward the shopping bag.
“What are we missing?”
Nobody answered.
That silence changed the room.
Mercer returned the bracelet to Alicia.
“I’m going to make a few calls.”
Alicia nodded.
“Please.”
Catherine immediately said:
“She should remain inside.”
Alicia looked toward the customers watching.
A man near the window was already recording.
A woman pretending to browse handbags had her phone tilted openly.
Alicia felt humiliation rise hot beneath her skin.
“No.”
Mercer frowned.
“Ma’am.”
“I will give you my contact information.”
Alicia pointed toward the door.
“But I am not standing in this store while people stare at me like I tried to rob it.”
“We’re still sorting this out.”
“Then sort it out.”
She held up the receipt.
“You have the evidence.”
Mercer stepped slightly toward the door.
“I need you to stay nearby.”
“Am I detained?”
He paused.
That was the pause she would remember.
Catherine watched.
Customers watched.
Phones watched.
Mercer said:
“Not formally.”
“Then I’m stepping outside.”
Alicia walked through the door.
The street swallowed her immediately.
Michigan Avenue moved around her, but attention followed.
Mercer came behind her.
Ramirez followed more slowly.
Alicia heard whispers.
“She stole something?”
“No, she has a receipt.”
“Police came out of Bellavere.”
“Record this.”
Alicia kept walking.
“Ms. Monroe.”
Mercer called again.
She stopped near a planter.
Turned.
“Am I free to go?”
“We still need a few minutes.”
“Then call my card company.”
“We are.”
“Good.”
Mercer lowered his voice.
“Your leaving is making this look worse.”
Alicia stared.
“For whom?”
He hesitated.
She continued.
“Because right now, the visual is a Black woman walking away from a luxury jewelry store with police following her.”
Mercer’s face changed.
Alicia pointed toward the phones.
“That image has already made the accusation for you.”
Officer Ramirez looked toward the crowd.
He understood.
Alicia continued.
“I am not going to stand inside while the manager invents new reasons to justify what she already decided about me.”
Mercer’s jaw tightened.
“Watch your tone.”
“No.”
The word came calmly.
“You watch yours.”
The crowd became quieter.
Mercer seemed surprised.
Alicia continued before he could respond.
“I gave you my receipt.”
“My ID.”
“My payment cleared.”
“Your other officer confirmed the sales associate saw no fraud alert.”
She lowered her voice.
“What exactly do you think I did?”
Mercer looked toward the store.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then that should matter.”
Her phone rang.
Nathan.
Alicia answered.
“Where are you?”
“Turning onto Michigan.”
His voice was controlled.
Too controlled.
“I called Amex.”
Alicia looked toward Mercer.
“And?”
“Charge approved at 2:14.”
“No fraud hold.”
“No security review.”
“I also called our private banker.”
“She’s pulling the authorization record.”
Alicia closed her eyes for half a second.
“Bring everything.”
“I am.”
She ended the call.
Mercer watched.
“Who’s coming?”
“My husband.”
“Is he an attorney?”
“No.”
“Police?”
“No.”
Alicia looked directly at him.
“He is someone who enjoys documentation more than any healthy person should.”
Officer Ramirez almost smiled.
Mercer did not.
Two minutes later, a black Range Rover pulled toward the curb.
Nathan Monroe stepped out wearing a navy suit without a tie, white shirt open at the collar, and the expression Alicia recognized from every serious financial discussion they had ever had. Calm did not mean relaxed with Nathan.
It meant organized.
He carried a slim leather portfolio and his tablet.
Nathan walked directly toward Alicia.
His first question was simple.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Did anybody touch you?”
“No.”
“Are you detained?”
“I’ve asked twice.”
Mercer answered.
“She is not under arrest.”
Nathan looked at him.
“That wasn’t the question.”
Mercer’s expression hardened.
Nathan continued.
“Is she legally detained?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
He looked toward Alicia.
“Then you can leave whenever you want.”
Catherine emerged from the boutique.
“That is not accurate.”
Nathan turned.
“And you are?”