her pockets. ‘It’s here somewhere,’ she assured him, growing more and more flustered at the curious glances of passers-by. ‘There.’ She practically thrust the receipt at him, relief flooding through her, then waited, a hot flush of humiliation heating her cheeks, as he perused it agonisingly slowly.
Finally he looked back at her, his expression inscrutable. ‘I have to ask you to walk with me back to the store, madam,’ he said dispassionately. ‘We need to check the contents of your bag.’
Cassie’s heart turned over. ‘But… there are only the items I paid for in there,’ she stammered. ‘There must be some mistake.’
The man said nothing, glancing pointedly instead at her shoulder bag.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Cassie muttered, a hard lump climbing her throat. She pulled the bag from her shoulder and yanked it open, and her blood froze. ‘Those aren’t mine,’ she said, sweat dampening her forehead as she stared horrified at the hair straighteners in her bag.
‘If you’d like to come back with me to the store,’ he repeated.
Cassie stared at him, uncomprehending for a second, and then panic clutched at her chest as she realised the police could be involved. Would it be on her record, the last time she’d inadvertently left a store with an item she hadn’t paid for? They’d cautioned her, that was all, taken into account her diagnosis, which she’d had that very morning. She hadn’t even known why she’d gone shopping. She’d never breathed a word to Adam. Why, she didn’t know, except she’d been so embarrassed. Nausea engulfed her as she recalled them saying it would stay on her record for six years. What would happen now? She hadn’t taken anything. Why wouldn’t he believe her? She hadn’t.
‘I don’t need bloody hair straighteners!’ she shouted tearfully. ‘I have short hair!’
He looked from her face to the hair she’d cropped short when she’d realised the medication she was on was causing it to fall out. She’d been so pleased she’d managed to grow it back a little and could now style it into a pixie cut, but anyone could see she had no need for hair straighteners.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, but he remained resolute. ‘Under section 24A of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984, I have the power to make a citizen’s arrest,’ he informed her authoritatively. ‘Or you could just walk back with me while we clear this up.’
Disorientated, Cassie blinked hard. She didn’t even remember picking the straighteners up. Unless… She’d been so preoccupied. Might she have done it without realising? Or had someone put them in her bag? But who? Why would they have done that? Were they here in the precinct, enjoying her humiliation?
They were. Cassie could feel it, eyes watching her closely, malice in the air, as, with no other choice, she allowed the man to lead her back to the store.
Seventeen
Cassandra
Still in a state of complete shock, Cassie glanced past the female officer who was standing at the door of the interview room, guarding her as if she were a common criminal. Through the partially open door she could see Adam in the corridor deep in conversation with the solicitor he’d managed to get to the station within half an hour of her being brought into custody. Cassie’s cheeks burned with deep shame as she recalled his stunned response when she’d called him, the incredulity in his voice when he’d repeated, ‘Shoplifting?’ What must he think of her?
Her gaze travelled to the solicitor, a crisp-suited, competent woman in her mid-thirties. Her hair was a lustrous rich brown flecked with subtle auburn highlights. It was shoulder length, the same length Cassie’s own hair had been before she’d decided on her radical cut. It was hard to imagine that she herself had once been that in-control woman. She didn’t know who she was any more. Bit by bit she seemed to have lost little pieces of herself. What made it more frightening was that Adam had looked at her so guardedly. Of all the consequences of this new nightmare, the worst would be for the chasm she’d sensed between them to widen. He’d always been her rock, and she couldn’t bear the idea that he might wake up one day and realise he didn’t want to be there for her any more.
She glanced back at him. He still wore that deep furrow she’d noticed when he’d walked in, looking as shell-shocked as she felt. ‘So what now?’ she heard him ask the solicitor, his voice strained.
The