
Inspector Sloane Strikes Again"Manager, it's her! I saw it with my own eyes! She stuffed that limited-edition necklace from the display case right into her clothes!”
The weekend mall was packed. Out of nowhere, a woman with that perfectly curated influencer look blocked my path and started yelling at the top of her lungs.
The crowd waiting in line for coffee instantly froze and turned to stare.
I blinked, caught off guard, and was just about to say something.
But she didn't give me a chance. She lunged forward and yanked hard at my work jacket.
A few brand-new gold necklaces, still with their tags on, hit the marble floor.
"Oh my God, you guys! The evidence is right there! Someone call the cops and get this woman arrested—ruin her life, send her straight to prison!”
People whipped out their phones to record. A couple of young guys even rolled up their sleeves, ready to play hero.
I looked down at the gold chains on the floor, then patted my pocket—where my plainclothes loss-prevention officer badge was sitting—and let out a dry, incredulous laugh.
This was the exact stash of stolen goods I'd confiscated just five minutes ago from a trash can in the women's restroom during an ongoing theft bust.
So how did she—a random shopper—know exactly where the evidence was on me?
And more than that, how did she manage to track me down and block my route to the security office with mall management in tow, all within a single minute?