Thread of Betrayal by Jeff Shelby

Then we wait and watch. Find someone who we for sure can tell isn’t from here, maybe isn’t paying attention or whatever. Wait for them to go into the bathroom. Then…you know. When we rip a girl, Mikey follows to make sure the girl doesn’t chase or whatever. When it’s a dude, I follow.”
    “You stole our daughter’s purse,” I said.
    She frowned. “So?”
    Before I could say anything else, Anchor put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to whisper in her ear. The girl’s face went white and she looked to be on the verge of tears when he was done whispering. She was shaking.
    “I mean,” she stammered, her eyes darting between Anchor and myself. “I mean, I’m sorry.”
    “Tell me exactly what happened,” I said. “With her.”
    She was trying to catch her breath. Whatever Anchor said to her had terrified her. He stood there, smiling at her.
    “Mikey picked her right away,” she said. “I followed her in. She went to the back stall, the one for wheelchairs. No one else was in there. I just reached over, grabbed it and left.”
    “She say anything?”
    “No.”
    I glanced at Lauren. She was staring at the girl, who was still watching Anchor.
    “Then what?” I asked. “You take off with the stuff? See what you scored?”
    “We do two or three,” she said. “Cover the cost of our tickets. She was our last. So yeah. We bailed.”
    “Where’s the purse?”
    Kitting opened the front passenger door and retrieved the purse. He handed it to Anchor who handed it to me.
    It was strange holding something that belonged to Elizabeth. It was a large cloth bag with a single strap, faded purple, like she’d had it for a long time. I couldn’t bring myself to look into it, as if her face might be in there, peering back at me.
    I handed it to Lauren.
    She held it gingerly, as if it were fragile, and opened it up, rummaging around. She pulled out a hot pink leather wallet. She unsnapped the clasp and I saw her swallow hard. “It’s hers. Elizabeth’s.”
    I didn’t say anything.
    Lauren searched through the wallet. “There should be cash in here.”
    Anchor looked at the girl.
    “Mikey has it,” she said quickly. “He’s in charge of the money. The whole thing, really.”
    “Anything else for her?” Anchor asked me.
    I shook my head.
    Anchor opened the passenger door. “Get in, please.” He waited for her to climb over Mikey. “Your turn, friend. Step out of the vehicle, please.”
    Mikey slid out of his seat, his hands stuffed in the front pocket of the hoodie. He had close cropped black hair and a small diamond stud in his left earlobe. He was slightly taller than Anchor, with a heavy build, but he somehow seemed small standing next to him.
    Kitting edged a little closer behind him.
    “Your friend has explained your game,” Anchor said. “But we’d like to hear your version.”
    Mikey’s right eye looked like it had a golf ball underneath it, the lid red and completely closed over the ball. But his left eye looked angry.
    “If she told you, why I gotta tell you?” he said, glancing at Anchor.
    “Because I asked. And take your hands out of your sweatshirt.”
    Mikey sighed, but took his hands out. “Game is, we look for tourists and rip a bag when they’re in the can. If it’s a chick, Jessica follows them in. If it’s a dude, I follow them in. Then the other person waits for the chick or dude to come out of the can, runs interference if they got to, makes sure they don’t follow the one that did the rip, just to make sure it’s cool.” He shrugged. “That’s it.”
    Anchor looked at me.
    “So after Jessica took my daughter’s purse, you waited for her to come out?” I asked.
    He nodded.
    “What did she do?” I asked. “Where did she go?”
    “I don’t know, dude.”
    Kitting cleared his throat and edged closer to Mikey.
    Mikey’s lips twisted for a moment, then he shrugged again, full of arrogance and disinterest. “Yo, she was like all of them. A little freaked out,