“Have a seat, Miss…?” he finally said, gesturing to a plastic chair across from him.
“You see, Detective, I never stole anything. I wanted you to profile me. I wanted you to bring me back here. I wanted to see how far a man like you would go to ‘find’ a crime that never happened. And you just stripped me in a back room based on a floorwalker’s hunch.” Shoplyfter - Aubree Ice
For the first time in fifteen years, Detective Morgan Cross had been out-thieved—not of a silk scarf, but of his dignity. And Aubree Ice walked out of Valmont’s with the only thing she had come for: the truth on a folded piece of paper, ready to be framed as art. “Have a seat, Miss…
Aubree’s eyes went wide with perfect, Oscar-worthy innocence. “A scarf? I… I don’t have a scarf. I didn’t take anything.” I wanted you to bring me back here
Sandra held up a hand, her walkie-talkie crackling. “Yes. Could you please come with me for a moment?”
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