Authors: Kimberly Malone
The cop follows my gaze, stepping in front of Juliet again, and says, “Yes, ma’am—and we have reason to believe that someone is you.”
“Juliet, you can’t be serious—this is a joke, right?”
“I’m sorry, Erin,” she says, her voice exactly the same as it always is—no nonsense, no frills, a little deep for a woman. But her face doesn’t have its usual hardness to it. “You’re the only person who….”
When she doesn’t finish her sentence, I do. “Who what, huh? Who’s got a record? Who’s a convicted thief?” I shake the policeman’s hand off my shoulder. “This is bullshit. I didn’t steal anything from Fox Ridge.”
“You’ll understand that we can’t take your word for it,” the other cops says, just a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Silas steps forward. “So, what, are you going to arrest her?”
“Actually,” Juliet says, slowly, “I wanted to give Erin a chance to confess, then we could settle this outside of court.”
“Confess?” I try to keep my volume reasonable, but I feel like I’m in a play with everyone, and I’m the only one who doesn’t know my lines—none of this makes sense. “I didn’t steal anything, Juliet. And look, I get it: I’m community service, I was about to leave anyway, I was sent here for stealing in the first place. But I’m telling you, whatever money you’re missing, I didn’t take it.”
Juliet clears her throat. “Erin, I found this in your locker. You forgot it when you left.” She holds up a silver locket. The heart spins at the end of the chain, glinting in the midday sun.
My face burns, suddenly. “I…. It’s....” I make myself reach for it, but Juliet slips it back into her pocket.
“It was reported missing from a camper,” she says, right as Silas says, “That’s mine.”
“What?” Juliet and I say at once. The cops look at each other; the one with a notepad clicks his pen, at the ready.
“Uh…yeah,” Silas says, clearing his throat. “Well, I mean, I have a reason for having it. I gave it to Erin so she could help me put a photo inside—it’s a surprise for Emma.”
Juliet stares at Silas, like she doesn’t believe him. I try to make my face and body language casual, to back him up.
“It is Emma’s, isn’t it?” He reaches for the necklace, and Juliet hesitates, giving it to him. “There’s an inscription with her initials inside. I’ll show you.” He tries to open the locket, but it won’t budge.
“My, uh…my nails aren’t long enough.” Silas looks around; everyone shrugs. He raises his eyebrows at me.
I roll my eyes. “I’ll open it.” When I pry it open with my thumbnail, I see the inscription: FOR EMMA, ON HER 4TH BIRTHDAY. LOVE, DADDY. The space for a photo is empty.
“Erin, is this true?” Juliet asks. She nods at Silas. “You were helping him?”
Dutifully, I nod.
“Emma was pretty upset about losing that locket,” Juliet admonishes Silas. “Her mom called to complain and everything.”
“I know.” Silas nods, sympathetic. “I should have told her mom first before I took it. In fact, I told Emma I was borrowing it. She must have forgotten, that’s all.” He steps closer to Juliet, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Juliet, you can trust me. And you can trust Erin—I know why you think you can’t, but you can. She wouldn’t steal money from the ranch.”
The cops take a breath together, getting bored. One slaps a mosquito off his arm and holds up his notepad. “So are we pressing charges, opening an investigation…?” He looks at Juliet. “What would you like us to do, ma’am?”
Juliet looks from Silas to me, studying. “Open an investigation, I suppose,” she sighs, finally. She holds out her hand to me. “I know you probably don’t believe it, but I really am sorry, Erin. I didn’t want to believe it was you, it’s just….”
“It’s okay.” I shake her hand. “Like I said, I get it. I’ve got a record.”
The cops head for their cars. “We’ll be interviewing all employees,” one of them says, then looks at me and adds, “or former employees, this week. Your address correct, ma’am?” He checks his computer, then rattles off my mom’s house.
“Um…actually, it’s changed; I haven’t updated my license yet.” I give him Silas’s address. The cops write it down, unfazed, but Juliet looks suspicious.
We’re about to leave, the cops poised to follow us out to the highway, when Juliet waves Silas over. “You be careful, all right?” He nods politely, then hugs her.
I know what she means: be careful getting mixed up with that thief.
Sorry, my ass.
We drive in silence, windows rolled down and wind pulsing across us. My mouth is dried out from nerves; I gulp down a boiling-hot soda I find on the floor.
“So,” he sighs, finally, “you took Emma’s necklace.”
I lower the bottle slowly. Sugar singes my throat, cooks my words. I can’t answer him.
“It’s okay, Erin.”
“I didn’t take it,” I manage. “Not like you’re thinking. I found it on the ground one day, that’s all. I didn’t know it was hers.”
“Why didn’t you take it to the Lost and Found?”
I shrug and pick at the bottle’s label. “I don’t know. It…it looked really important, and I wanted to turn it in—I knew whoever lost it would be really upset, you know? Like, I could just tell.” Tears spring to my eyes, and I stare into the wind, hoping to whisk them away. “I’ve never had something like that.”
“So you wanted to keep it,” he says. It’s weird how calm his voice is—I’m not used to people being so cool about my thefts, let alone understanding.
“Just for a little while.” The side view mirror shows me my face, flushed from the heat, tears skidding sideways into my hair. Like a kid caught redhanded, swept up in the tornado of her own creation. “I was going to return it before I left, but I guess I forgot.”
“Guess so,” he says, smirking. He hits my shoulder playfully. “Don’t be upset, Erin.”
“Fox Ridge is going to take me to court,” I snap. “What else am I supposed to be?”
“They don’t have any proof,” he reasons. “That locket was the only thing they could have used—maybe. A huge maybe. It still wouldn’t have proved anything, and I covered for you, anyway.”
“It’s not just that.” My insides feel leaden. “It’s…. I’m ashamed.” The tears hit again, and I huddle closer to my door. “Stealing from a store is bad enough. But taking something from a person…a kid. That’s different.” I think back to my street days, the nights my friends couldn’t loan out their couches, when I’d slip a wallet out of a back pocket or purse without thinking twice. At least then, I’d had an excuse. I needed money.
But I never touched their credit cards, their photos, never looked at the ID’s in the clear little windows. I couldn’t stand the personal stuff.
And now, all I can think of is the locket in Silas’s shirt pocket. The inscription inside, swirling cursive, words her father placed there so carefully. So lovingly.
I’d wanted it for myself. I didn’t know about the inscription when I kept it, but I’m not surprised something like that was inside. It was a heavy locket, so perfect-looking, even in the dirt. I knew it was special. And it was that part I’d wanted to keep.
“Silas,” I whisper. I look at him as he pulls into the apartment lot. “You don’t have to believe me…in fact, I’ll understand completely if you don’t. But I promise you—I didn’t steal any money from the camp. I…I know I’ve done some pretty shitty, low-down stuff, but I’d never steal from a place that helps kids like that.”
“I believe you,” he says, without hesitation. “Besides, the money’s in checks and cash in a huge safe in the main office, so only managers like Juliet and Leon can get to it—trust me, they’re not going to find anything that’ll point to you. The fact you have a record won’t be enough for them to get you to court.” He spins the radio knobs idly. “I’m sorry.” He glances at me. “That they just assumed that about you.”
“Kind of deserve it,” I admit. I nod at his pocket. “Guess you’ll be giving that back to Emma tomorrow, huh?”
He pats the locket through the fabric. “She loses it a lot, actually. I can usually find it right away.” Chuckling, he adds, “Now I know why I couldn’t, this time.”
“I’m sorry.” My palms swipe at my eyes, swollen. “I really am.”
“Hey, stop that.” He leans across the console, one hand on my face, the other braced against my window, and kisses me. “You won’t need to do this forever.”
“I’m twenty-one,” I mutter against his lips. “I shouldn’t ‘need’ to do anything like this.”
“Everyone’s got something, Erin. You’ll work it out.”
I bring my eyes to his. “How do you know that?”
“Just trust me,” he breathes, smiling. He kisses me again, the locket’s chain slipping loose from his pocket and swinging against my collar, like a pendulum, or a cold, steady heartbeat.
“Good to see you again, Lauren.”
“Erin, actually,” I bite, forcing a smile at Kyle Meegan. I glance at Silas, then dive in: “I need representation.”
“Oh…all right,” he says, surprised. He opens the black mini-fridge behind his desk and hands each of us a Perrier, the glass catching the sun and shining green prisms across our hands as we accept.
I take a sip, hesitate, and sigh. “I’m a suspect in a petty larceny case over at Fox Ridge Ranch.”
Kyle pops an eyebrow. “The country club?”
“It’s a therapy ranch on the club’s property,” Silas explains. “We work with kids who have special needs—spending time with horses, learning to ride, being outside in fresh air…it helps those kids relax and socialize.”
“Okay,” Kyle says, nodding. He temples his hands, pointing both index fingers at me. “You work there?”
“Not anymore. Well….” I clear my throat. “I just finished a hundred hours of community service there.”
He nods again, more slowly. “What, uh…what did you have community service for, exactly?”
“Shoplifting,” I answer firmly, but can feel the blush flaring across my cheeks.
Kyle raises both eyebrows now and exhales a sharp stream of air. “Wow. Well…Erin, I’ll certainly represent you. But I hope you understand, it won’t be easy. Are you the prime suspect right now?”
“Yes. But only because I have a record—they keep their money in a safe that I didn’t even know about while I worked there, let alone had access to.”
“That’s good. I can work with it.” He looks at Silas. “And who are you?”
“My character reference,” I answer.
“And her boyfriend,” Silas admits. “But I can verify that Erin never had access to the money—counselors and managers take the parents’ payments, and the managers put them in the safe after logging it in the computer.”
“Are bank runs made?” Kyle asks. “When the safe holds a certain amount, I mean.”
“Yes. Two managers, or a manager and a counselor, go to the bank every Friday. But Erin always left hours before those even happened.”
Kyle jots Silas’s answers on a legal pad. “Sounds like we’ve got a shot, after all,” he says. “We can at least prove it’s very unlikely Erin had access to that money, if not impossible. And the fact they don’t have any proof she did take it helps a lot. Are they taking you to court, Erin?”
“Not yet. Just launching an investigation. I’m supposed to meet with the police tomorrow and give them my statement, but I figured I should get a lawyer—my last one was court-appointed.”
“Let’s get a practice statement,” he says, “you know, make sure you aren’t confused by what the cops might ask.”
I pull a face. “Practice? I was just going to tell them the truth. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
Kyle laughs, taking a sip from his water. “Erin,” he grins, like I’m so adorably naive, “it’s not enough to tell the truth anymore—it’s all about delivery.”
At the advice of my new lawyer, I comb through every single one of my possessions that night and get rid of all the things I’ve ever stolen. Clothes with ink-tags still attached, bottles of perfume in their lock-boxes, mountains of cosmetics from drug stores.
A brooch from Jane’s jewelry box, pilfered when I was only fourteen.
Cousin Pierce’s favorite flask, engraved with his monogram.
A broken horseshoe from the ranch. Somebody’s busted watch, found buried in the hay.
Irv the shuttle driver’s employee badge. It slid against my feet on my second day of work and slipped so easily into my pocket. The next day, he had a new one.
When I finally finish, there’s almost an entire box overflowing with treasures and junk. At the time, each object held a promise—something I liked about it and wanted to have for myself. The perfumes looked beautiful, delicate. Jane’s brooch seemed glamorous, and she looked so confident when she wore it.
Pierce’s flask was sturdy and secretive. Irv’s badge seemed beloved, just like him.
Every object had called to me, once. Now, trying to heft the box into Silas’s car, I wonder what I’d really heard.
“You’re doing the right thing, Erin.” Silas brushes off his hands on his pants and smiles. “Really. I’m proud of you. I don’t know that I’d have the guts to do this.”
“This isn’t guts,” I sigh. “I don’t have any other option. It’s too risky to keep this stuff.”
“Here,” he says, fishing the brooch and flask—the only two things I can safely return to their real owners—out of his pocket. “What’s your plan?”
I look at the brooch. Turn it in the sunlight, slowly.
“I’ll send these back to Jane and Pierce, tell them they left them at Mom’s house during a visit, or something.” I take a deep breath. “Or maybe I’ll tell them the truth. I don’t know yet.”
“And the box?”
“Goodwill, I guess.” Weakly, I laugh at the spatters of ink on his clothes. “Thanks for getting those security tags and boxes off.”
He brushes at the ink to no avail; it’s long dried. “All in a day’s work,” he says, laughing with me. “At least we managed to salvage a few of those things, so they're worth donating.” He gets serious again. “Really, though—you should feel happy about this, Erin. You can start to move on now. You don’t need this stuff.”
“I know.” I feel stupid, holding back tears. “I guess I’m just scared. And, to be honest, it’s really hard facing this head-on. It’s not something I like to think about.”
“You had your reasons,” he says softly. His shoes kick at loose rocks in the pavement. “You can’t undo it. All you can change is what’s ahead of you.”
What’s ahead of me. I face the sunset and sigh; Silas is trying his best, but it’s not enough to comfort me completely. His promises that everything will work itself out are sweet, but he can’t possibly know that. No one can. Least of all me.
And that, really, is what’s so scary. I have no idea what’s ahead of me now.
* * *
The next morning, I walk to the lobby with two small envelopes. In one, there’s Pierce’s flask and a simple note: “Pierce—found this in our kitchen before I sold the house, figured you left it there.” Then a simple heart, and my name.
Aunt Jane’s has her brooch, nestled in bubble wrap. “Aunt Jane,” my note to her reads, “I took this from you a few years ago. I’m really sorry, and I hope you can forgive me. There’s been some things I’ve had to work through lately, and I know there’s no excuse for what I did. But if it helps, I took good care of it. All my love, Erin.”
The packages hit the bottom of the outgoing mailbox with a resolute thunk, and I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding since the elevator.
“Erin St. James?”
I turn to see a courier in the front hall. “Yeah,” I say, guardedly. “How’d you know?”
“Didn’t,” he smirks. “Figured I’d ask before I went up to your apartment, though. Here.” He passes me two pieces of paper. “Got a couple summons for you.”
“Summons?”
“Yep,” he says. It bugs me how casual he is about this, like he just handed me a spa brochure. “You know, for court.”
“I know what it means,” I snap. “Why are there two?”
He shrugs, tips his baseball cap at me, and turns. “I’m just the messenger,” he calls out. The door hisses shut behind him.
“Hey, beautiful,” Silas yawns when I return, stretching against the sofa like a cat. His hair is still matted from sleep. “What’s that?”
“Summons,” I answer quietly, opening the second one.
He cringes. “Fox Ridge sure didn’t waste any time on that, did they?”
“No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “That’s this one.”
“What? You got two?” he asks. He takes the first one, the one I opened in the stairwell and read twice. “Then what’s this—” He stops short. “Oh, my God. Is this serious?”
I lean against the door and nod. “Gordon’s suing me.”