Then started again because Diane called a second time.
A Stonebridge security officer pushed through the crowd.
Two Riverton police officers followed several seconds behind.
The younger officer, Daniel Ruiz, saw a woman seated on the pavement, a teenager standing several feet away, belongings scattered everywhere, and roughly twenty people pointing cameras in different directions.
His first instruction was simple.
“Everybody stay where you are.”
Camille obeyed.
Marjorie began speaking immediately.
“She attacked me.”
Three witnesses objected at once.
Ruiz raised a hand.
“One at a time.”
His partner, Officer Lena Brooks, moved toward Camille.
“Are you hurt?”
Camille looked at her.
“My shoulder.”
“Sit down if you need to.”
“I don’t want to sit.”
“That’s fine.”
Brooks noticed Camille’s backpack and belongings.
“What happened to those?”
Camille opened her mouth.
Marjorie interrupted.
“I believed she stole my phone.”
Officer Brooks looked toward her.
“Where is the phone?”
Nobody answered.
Diane pointed toward the handbag.
Brooks followed the gesture.
The screen lit again.
This time everyone heard it.
Marjorie closed her eyes.
Camille bent slowly.
Brooks immediately said, “Don’t touch anything yet.”
Camille stopped.
The officer crouched beside the purse.
“Ma’am, is this your bag?”
Marjorie nodded.
“And that is your phone?”
Another nod.
Brooks looked toward Ruiz.
Nothing had to be said.
The accusation had collapsed before police took the first statement.
Ruiz asked Marjorie to remain seated while paramedics checked whether she had been injured in the fall.
Brooks moved Camille farther away.
Peter Hall finally reached the plaza after a customer ran into Linden Row saying someone had attacked “the girl who works here.”
He saw the books first.
Then Camille.
His face changed.
“What happened?”
Camille looked toward him.
“She thought I stole her phone.”
Peter saw Marjorie.
He recognized her immediately.
Marjorie had attended Stonebridge advisory meetings in the bookstore’s event room more than once.
Peter looked at the phone inside her purse.
Then at the books on the pavement.
“What did she do?”
Camille tried answering.
Her voice broke.
That was the first moment she cried.
Not during the accusation.
Not when the backpack was emptied.
Not when Marjorie grabbed her.
Seeing somebody familiar made holding herself together suddenly unnecessary.
Peter stepped closer but waited before touching her.
“Can I hug you?”
Camille nodded.
He did.
Officer Brooks let them have a few seconds.
Then work resumed.
Witness names.
Videos.
Statements.
Security-camera requests.
Photographs of the scattered property.