Thomas looked at him.
“Where did that come from?”
“Found under her cart after she moved into Aisle Seven.”
Hawthorne used yellow markdown labels.
But employees printed them one at a time using controlled handheld devices.
Blank sheets were never available to customers.
Thomas picked up the sticker.
The font looked close.
The logo looked close.
The barcode looked wrong.
Andre had already checked.
“Fake?”
“Completely.”
Thomas looked toward the monitor.
“Anything in her cart wearing these?”
Andre opened another camera.
That was when the entire problem changed.
Until then, Rebecca Caldwell had been an entitled customer with badly behaved children.
Now Hawthorne had a different concern.
Seven products inside her cart carried seventy-percent markdown stickers.
Premium ribeye.
Imported olive oil.
Specialty coffee.
Two skincare products.
Prepared seafood.
A high-end non-alcoholic sparkling beverage.
None were scheduled for markdown.
The steaks had arrived that morning.
Skincare products did not use food-department discount stickers under any circumstance.
Thomas calculated the numbers.
Normal total:
$304.70.
Marked total:
$91.41.
He looked at Andre.
“So she brought counterfeit discount stickers into the store?”
“It appears that way.”
“And the children are opening half the merchandise around them.”
“Also appears that way.”
Thomas called the regional loss-prevention manager.
He described what they had.
The response was immediate.
Do not accuse.
Keep observing.
Preserve footage.
Verify every product.
That was when Thomas received the call about Aisle Seven.
Now, standing in front of Rebecca, he held the tablet where she could see it.
The frozen image showed her in the household aisle.
Handbag open.
Yellow labels visible between her fingers.
Rebecca stared.
Paul leaned slightly sideways trying to see.
Margaret could not.
Rebecca recovered quickly.
“That proves nothing.”
Thomas remained calm.
“What are those stickers?”
Rebecca lifted her eyebrows.
“What stickers?”
Thomas enlarged the image.
Bright yellow labels filled the screen.
Her hand was clearly holding them.
Rebecca’s face hardened.
“I don’t appreciate being surveilled.”
Paul made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Thomas ignored him.
“Ma’am, Hawthorne posts notices at each entrance explaining that security cameras operate throughout the store.”
“You have no right to film inside my purse.”
“The camera filmed you removing something from your purse while standing in a public aisle.”
Rebecca crossed her arms.
“I want corporate.”
“I can give you the contact information.”
“I want your regional manager.”
“She’s already been contacted.”
Rebecca paused.
“I know people.”
Thomas nodded.
“I’m sure you do.”
That answer irritated her more than fear would have.
She pointed toward Margaret.
“This is because that woman complained about me.”
“No.”
Thomas played the video.
Rebecca watched herself remove the yellow stickers.