“And the labels.”
“I don’t know anything about your labels.”
Andre held up a clear evidence bag.
Inside was the yellow sticker found beneath Rebecca’s cart.
She stared.
“That could belong to anybody.”
“Yes,” Thomas said.
“That’s why we checked the video.”
He opened another recording.
A ribeye steak appeared on screen at the meat counter.
No markdown sticker.
Another camera showed Rebecca placing the package into her cart.
Later footage showed her hand moving across the package.
Next frame:
Yellow label.
Rebecca shook her head.
“That doesn’t show me putting anything on it.”
“No.”
Thomas nodded.
“It does show the product without a sticker when you selected it.”
“An employee could’ve added it.”
“No employee touched the item afterward.”
Rebecca’s expression shifted again.
Paul whispered, “Wow.”
She heard him.
“You shut your mouth.”
Thomas stepped between them.
“Ma’am, you need to stop confronting other customers.”
Rebecca pointed at the badge on her handbag.
“I am the president of a homeowners association representing more than four hundred homes.”
Thomas looked at the badge.
Then back at Rebecca.
“I still don’t understand why that matters here.”
Someone laughed.
Then another person.
Rebecca’s cheeks turned red.
“Our residents spend thousands of dollars at this store every week.”
“We appreciate their business.”
“I can make sure they stop.”
Thomas nodded.
“You can recommend that.”
Rebecca opened her mouth.
“But you cannot ban customers from Hawthorne Market.”
He glanced toward Margaret and Paul.
“And you cannot order me to remove two people because they asked your children to stop throwing merchandise.”
For the first time all afternoon, Rebecca seemed physically smaller than the room around her.
Hawthorne did not call police immediately.
That surprised her.
There were no handcuffs.
No dramatic public arrest.
No officers marching her past shoppers.
Thomas brought her to a private office near customer service while a female employee stayed with the children.
Mason received water.
Connor blamed Sophie for the pasta sauce.
Sophie blamed Connor.
Nobody blamed Mason because he had finally fallen asleep with his head against a chair.
Regional loss-prevention director Tasha Bennett arrived twenty-five minutes later.
She was forty-two, Black, wore her natural hair short, and had the kind of calm voice Rebecca found deeply frustrating. She placed a printed list on the desk while Thomas and Andre sat nearby.
“Seven products in your cart carried counterfeit markdown labels.”
Rebecca folded her arms.
“I didn’t put them there.”
Tasha nodded.
“Okay.”
Rebecca stared.
“What do you mean, okay?”
“I mean I heard you.”
“You have no proof.”
“We have video and physical evidence.”
“I want the videos deleted.”
“No.”
“I did not consent to them.”
“They are store-security recordings.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“I know lawyers.”
Tasha nodded.
“So does Hawthorne.”
Thomas looked down to hide his expression.
Rebecca noticed.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“You people humiliated me in front of my children.”
Tasha opened another page.
“Did any employee throw products from your cart onto the floor?”
Rebecca stopped.