“Thanks,” I said again, then pushed my cart past him with as much confidence as I could muster, making sure to head in the opposite direction from where he was working.
Just keep going and get the hell out of here, I thought. Luckily, the Oreos were on an end cap I passed, so I put one package in my basket and another in my backpack, then moved on toward the baby aisle. I dumped a dozen jars of baby food for Natalie on top of the cookies, along with a box of teething biscuits. The last two things I needed were a loaf of bread and peanut butter, so I made my way to the bakery, keeping my eyes open for other employees as I snuck those into my bag, too.
I told myself I was only taking enough to last us a few days—that I’d make better money at a different intersection tomorrow. I tried to believe that stealing food for my children wasn’t a crime. That it didn’t make me a bad person, but a good one. Don’t good mothers do anything necessary for their kids? If I’d had the cash, I would have paid for it all, but buying diapers and wipes and formula for Natalie had taken my last fifty bucks.
I was only a few feet away from the cash registers when I heard Rick call out behind me. “Hey!” His voice was hard. “Wait!”
Shit. I stopped and turned to face him. “Hey,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a charming smile. My stomach churned. “So, you won’t believe this, but I left my wallet at home.” I gestured toward the half-full cart. “I’ll have to come back.” I looked in the direction of the same doors I’d entered and was about to walk toward them when Rick spoke again.
“No.” He frowned at me and held out his hand. “I need to look in your backpack.”
“What?” I said. I tried to sound offended, but my shaking voice gave me away. “Why?”
Rick kept his arm outstretched. “My manager has you on tape,” he said with a stern look. “He saw everything.”
I thought about arguing, pretending I didn’t know what he was talking about, but realized if there was a tape, denial would be pointless. “Please, you don’t understand,” I said, tears flooding my eyes. “I never do this . . . I just . . . My kids are hungry and I ran out of money. We’re homeless. I didn’t know what else to do.” I glanced over his shoulder and saw a short, burly bald man striding toward us, his stubby arms swinging at his sides.
“Sorry,” Rick said. His expression softened. “But you still need to give me the bag.”
Reluctantly, I handed over my backpack, feeling the blood rush by my ears. All I could think about was the girls, outside, sitting alone and afraid in the dark. I would do anything it took to get back to them.
The manager approached us and snatched the backpack from Rick’s grasp. “Someone’s been busy,” he said, with a hint of disgust. He had tiny blue eyes and small hands; his name tag said STEVE.
“Look, this was a huge mistake,” I said, hoping I could plead my way out of this mess. I looked at Rick. “Seriously, I’ve never done anything like it.” A lie, but one I hoped they might believe.
The manager stared at me. “Uh-huh.”
I stepped forward and put my hand on his thick forearm. “It’s the truth, I swear. I just needed to feed my kids. I couldn’t let them starve. Please, just let me go and I swear I’ll never come back.”
Steve hesitated, and I thought I might have gotten through to him until I saw a brief flash of red and blue lights outside the glass doors.
My blood ran cold. “You called the police?” I’d only been in the store for ten minutes, at most. The manager must have been watching me the entire time.
“It’s store policy,” Rick said, sounding a little sorry to relay the information.
“Wait, please,” I begged. “You can’t do this.”
“Yes, I can,” Steve said, pulling away from my touch.
The whoosh of the doors opening silenced me, and two police officers came in to stand beside me. “This is her?” the younger one asked, taking me by the arm. He was almost as tall as Rick, but with a bigger build. His black hair was shorn into a buzz cut and his blue shirt was tight around his biceps. He smelled like cologne and stale coffee.
“Yep,” Steven said. “Claims she was stealing to feed her kids.” He unzipped my backpack and rummaged through its contents, coming up with a jar of pureed squash. “Might be true.” He shrugged, like either way, it made no difference to him.
“It is true,” I said. My voice broke on the words. “Please. They’re still in my car.”
The older officer finally spoke. “You left your kids alone out there?” He squinted, then looked toward the parking lot.
“I’ll go check,” the younger officer said, letting go of my arm. “Keys?”