And it’s not a car. It’s an old pickup—one I’d recognize anywhere.
Alex and I hunker down lower in our seats, watching as the driver exits the truck and goes around to the bed, grabbing a bag out of the back.
“No way,” Alex whispers. “Actually. No way.”
I sigh. Then I whisper, “I should’ve known. Let’s just watch to see what he does.”
We lay low, peering over the dash. I should be hyper-focused on the case. Here we are, facing down the culprit. But Alex is leaning with her elbow on the center console, and I’m tilted in her direction. We’re so close that her shoulder presses against mine. I hear her every breath. Her hair tickles my cheek.
It’s hard to make out the man’s movements in the dark, but thankfully, he turns on his phone flashlight, walking more quickly than I’ve ever seen him move up to the porch, setting the bag down, knocking, and then turning to dash across the porch where he hides himself at the side of the house, turning the flashlight off and cloaking himself in darkness.
Like clockwork, Mrs. Simms opens the door, the light from inside her home illuminating the porch. She looks to the left and right and then down. When she sees the bag, a soft smile spreads across her face. She takes it and ducks back inside, only glancing our way once.
We had called her to tell her we’d be out here. Other than that, we haven’t had contact with her since we pulled up.
As soon as the door shuts, the man walks out from the side of the house, heading toward his truck.
“It’s our move,” I say, popping my door open and breaking into a run.
Alex is right behind me shouting, “Stop where you are, Cooter!” Her voice is steady, but her breath is coming out in pants. Maybe from the cold, or maybe it’s the rush of finally apprehending him.
He stops dead in his tracks, raising his hands overhead and freezing in place. My flashlight shines directly in his eyes and he squints. I lower the beam, approaching him slowly.
“Last I heard, it’s not a crime to bring your neighbor some supper,” he mutters.
“Cooter,” Alex says. “Is this the first time you’ve brought something over to Mrs. Simms?”
He looks at Alex, then me, and then back at her. “No ma’am. I’ve been out here before. She’s all alone since her husband passed.”
“So you decided to do some late-night decorating?” I ask him.
He meets my eyes and says, “Just spreading Christmas cheer. Are you gonna arrest me, Jesse?”
“You did steal from people, Cooter,” I say.
“I didn’t steal anything people needed—not more than she does. Have you ever spent the holidays alone?” His tone is scolding, as if we’re the ones in the wrong. “It’s depressing. Widow Simms didn’t have one decoration on her house. She barely gets enough for groceries.”
“We’re not arguing the fact that she needed support, Cooter,” Alex says. “The way you gave it was illegal.”
“I’m aware of the law, Miss.”
“Officer Keller,” I correct him.
Cooter nods. “And maybe I shouldn’t have taken them things. I’m not a rich man either. I bought her the groceries and some meals fair and square. I did take some cookies from the bakery once. And all these things …” He waves toward the yard.“I was gonna return after the holidays. It’s more like borrowin’ than stealin’ if you think of it.”
“Borrowing involves asking,” I tell Cooter, even though I’m quite sure he knows it.
He pulls the simple-minded hillbilly act when he’s evading responsibility. I’ve known him too long to fall for it.
I look at Alex, waiting for a sign of agreement. She gives me a slight nod.
“I tell you what, Cooter. I’m not going to arrest you.”
I glance at Alex again just to make sure we’re on the same page. Her silence and relaxed posture tell me we are.
I continue, “But someone you stole from might want to press charges. And it would be their right. So, what we’re going to do is drive you to the places where you took things. It will be up to each person or business to decide what they want to do. If no one wants to push the issue, we’ll take you home. But you have to promise us here and now that you’re going to stop playing Robin Hood.”
“That’s exactly what I told myself,” he says. “I said, ‘Cooter, you’re a regular Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to bless the poor.’”
