Theodosia was pretty sure the screamer carried a snub-nosed pistol in his right hand.
Theodosia ducked down behind the case again, her wonked-out brain continuing to scream, Terrorists! But she knew it couldn’t be. A split second later, a surge of adrenaline kicked in, and she realized she was probably smack-dab in the middle of a bold, highly orchestrated smash-and-grab robbery.
It was the kind of robbery she’d only heard about—the kind that took place in London or Paris or Monaco, where daring vandals slammed stolen vehicles directly through storefronts and made off with millions of dollars’ worth of jewelry or Chanel and Dior purses.
She snuck another look just as one of the demon invaders pulled a silver canister from his jacket pocket.
“Go!” the demon shouted to his companions.
Now all three robbers pulled gas masks over their demon faces. The leader twisted the lid, there was a loud pop, and black smoke billowed from the canister. A smoke bomb!
Blind panic set in among the screaming, terrified guests. They stumbled and tripped over one another, fighting wildly to escape. Coughing and choking, some tried to lunge for the front door, some blindly tried to batter their way toward the back of the shop. Theodosia flipped Haley’s apron over the girl’s face and pulled her own scarf up over her own nose and mouth for protection.
The vandals, all wearing rubber gas masks that made them look like high-tech versions of the Elephant Man, went straight to work like practiced professionals. Brandishing crowbars and shiny hammers, they methodically smashed each and every showcase, snatching pearls, diamonds, and gold jewelry from their black velvet nests.
The robbers crunched their way toward the back counter where Theodosia and Haley remained hidden. The glass shattered in the front panel, and then Theodosia heard a hand scrabble around, grabbing jewelry and gold chains like crazy. The robber was so close to her she could hear his breathing, a kind of ptew ptew ptew through his mask.
White-hot anger surged through Theodosia. Slowly, carefully, she put a finger in the notch of the cabinet’s sliding back door. If she could catch a glimpse of the robber, see anything that might identify him . . .
Theodosia waited, one eye tearing from billows of smoke, yet still pressed hard against the narrow crack. Her vigil was rewarded when a black-gloved hand reached over and grasped a spectacular blue-green alexandrite necklace. Observe, she told herself sternly. Think. Try to take something away from this. Some kind of information or clue that will help the police.
Just as she’d almost given up hope of seeing anything meaningful, the hand scuttled sideways and she caught sight of a small expanse of skin. Was that a woman’s hand? Maybe. It was a smaller hand, that was for sure. And under the fingers of the stretchy black glove that the robber wore, could that be the bump of a ring?
Then the hand pulled away with the necklace, and Theodosia caught just a hint of light-blue lines etched against pale-white skin.
The smashing, screaming, and grabbing seemed to go on forever, although Theodosia later figured it was probably more like two minutes all told.
Just as suddenly as they’d begun, one of the robbers, the one who’d released the smoke bomb, yelled, “Time!” and they all jumped back into the black SUV.
They floored the vehicle and, like an Indy car in reverse, shot back out of the shop into the street. There were more loud revving sounds, almost like the scream of a motorcycle, and then a screech of tires on pavement.
Theodosia had been holding her breath, one hand clutching Haley. When she heard the SUV take off, she half stood and looked over the counter.
People were crying and coughing and moaning softly. Hunks of jagged glass lay everywhere, as if a giant kaleidoscope had exploded. A few larger pieces reflected the red-green of the stoplight down on the corner and the neon lights from the Red Peppercorn Grill across the street.
“Is it over?” Haley asked. Her voice was hoarse and shaky.
“Yes, but stay where you are.” Theodosia could hear the faint wail of sirens several blocks away. An alarm had been triggered, or someone had dared to call 911 on their cell phone. Help was on the way, thank goodness.
Across the shop, Brooke scrambled to her feet, her eyes wild with fear, her body shaking uncontrollably. “Is anybody hurt?”
Loud moans and cries rang out in response.
“I’m cut.”
“There are slivers in my hand.”
“Please help me.”
The sound of sirens was growing closer, Theodosia thought. Now they were just two or three blocks away.