Case 002 - Part 1

The grocery store buzzed with pre-holiday chaos. Carts clattered, voices rose, people scrambled for last-minute ingredients. Butter was nearly wiped out. Someone proudly walked off with the last apple pie.

Scarlett didn’t care. She only needed a single can of pumpkin, her secret weapon for the mousse Jett had mocked, then devoured. Ever since Halloween, he’d been hinting hard for a Thanksgiving remake.

Five hours until family arrived. Plenty of time.

She guided the cart forward, one hand on baby Jacqueline’s tiny foot, the other trying to keep pace with Jett’s long-legged stride. They’d come for pumpkin and somehow collected muffins, flowers, a replacement pie, and de-icer because the first snowstorm was rolling in at sunset.

It would be their first holiday as a family, and she wanted it to be perfect.

Jett slowed, placing a hand on the cart. Scarlett leaned around him.

An employee’s raised voice cracked through the noise. “I know you stole it!”

A skinny teenager—maybe nineteen—backed away from her. Black hoodie. Black nails. Earbuds dangling from his hand. Startled, not hostile. “I didn’t steal anything,” he insisted.

He tried to step past her. She blocked him. “Empty your pockets. Now.”

“I didn’t take anything!”

Shoppers hesitated. Whispered. Some even took pictures, phones raised in silent judgement. 

Jett sighed, looking back at Scarlett. Even off-duty, the deputy chief in him never really shut off. “Well? Should we play referee?”

The kid’s hands were shaking. The employee was escalating. And Scarlett felt tension building like a storm cell ready to break.

Scarlett angled the cart through a narrow gap in the crowd. “You get the kid,” she told her husband. “I’ll get the employee.”

She stepped in front of a wall of raised cellphones, blocking lenses as she approached the woman. Red-faced, hands on her hips, the employee was mid-tirade.

“I’m sick and tired of you people coming in here and stealing from honest, hard-working—” Her gaze snapped to Scarlett. “What do you want?”

Scarlett kept her voice low, one hand steady on Jacqueline’s tiny foot, praying the tension wouldn’t set her baby off. “Right now? To diffuse this before it goes any further.” Her eyes flicked to the crowd. “Though I think we’re halfway there.”

“He stole!” the woman barked. “All I want is the merchandise back and for him to leave in handcuffs.”

“That’s one option,” Scarlett said gently, rocking the cart until Jacqueline’s eyes fluttered closed. “Did you actually see him steal something?”

“It’s in his pocket!” She turned her back on a kid filming from inches away. “He grabbed sunglasses and shoved them in his pocket.”

“I didn’t!” the teen yelled. He tried to slip past Jett—only to be stopped with a firm hand to the shoulder. “She’s lying!”

Scarlett stepped between them before the shouting could accelerate into something worse. “Screaming accusations isn’t helping. Let’s follow protocol and move forward from there.”

The employee crossed her arms. “And what’s that supposed to be?” 

It should’ve been simple: check the security footage and clear everything up. But the swarm of last-minute holiday shoppers blocked every angle. Scarlett studied the screen, irritation prickling at her neck. The teenager stood beside the sunglasses rack, but that didn’t make him guilty.

She returned to the front of the store, where the employee was still shouting and the teenager was snapping back. Jett held the cart steady, keeping Jacqueline entertained with her plush bear.

Scarlett moved beside him with a sigh. “No luck.”

That’s when she saw it—something dark tucked beside Jacqueline. She reached in, brushed her baby’s cheek, and pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

Jett raised a brow. “You’ve got to be kidding.” He exaggerated a groan. “Well, there it is. Our five-month-old stole the glasses.”

Scarlett tickled Jacqueline’s toes. “Guess we’ll have to turn her in.”

Jacqueline giggled and kicked.

“Too bad she can’t tell us who left them,” Jett muttered. “We could check the footage again, but with this crowd…”

“It’ll just be another wasted trip,” Scarlett finished.

She held up the sunglasses, watching the sales tag sway. Jacqueline grabbed at it, pulling it closer. That’s when Scarlett noticed something else, the security tag had been removed. She turned the glasses in her hand. The lenses were smeared. Specks of dirt clung to the frames.

Scarlett nudged Jett and handed them over. “It’s time to end this. I know exactly whose pride caused a traffic jam in aisle two.” 

Scarlett watched her husband as he aimed to prove her theory.

Jett stepped forward, intercepting the employee and the teenager before they could come to blows. He smiled politely and offered a solution. “Rather than make a scene, we’re going to the men’s room, where I’ll search him for stolen property.”

“But I—”

Jett cut the teenager off with a raised hand, slipping out his badge just long enough to flash authority. “If you have anything, we’ll discuss whether the store wants to press charges. If not, you’re free to go.”

The employee bristled. “That’s ridiculous! For all I know, you could be one of his buddies!”

Scarlett leaned against her cart, watching the show unfold exactly as she predicted. “For all we know, you could plant stolen merchandise on him.”

The employee’s gaze flicked to Jacqueline—just long enough to confirm Scarlett’s suspicions.

“I would never—”

Scarlett lifted the sunglasses. “The security tag is missing. And that can only be removed at checkout.” She angled the lenses to catch the smudges. “And then there’s the dirt—”

“From his pocket,” the employee snapped. “He had it in his pocket.”

“Or you picked it up from the parking lot.” Scarlett’s eyes dropped to the employee’s sneakers—damp, speckled with fresh grit.

Jett turned to the teenager. “How many interactions have you had with this employee?”

He shrugged. “A lot.”

“Bias,” Scarlett said. “You wanted him embarrassed. You wanted people to think he stole.” She tapped the lenses against her palm. “Bias and bitterness can push people into desperate choices… even setting someone up.”

Jett rested a hand on Scarlett’s shoulder. “What do you think we’ll find when we check the security camera watching every move you’ve made for the past thirty minutes?”

The employee huffed and spun away, shoving through the crowd, muttering profanity as she went.

It wasn’t the end of the story. Not by far. But uncovering the truth was a step toward setting things right.