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The sidewalks were clear of snow, but she stepped lightly, knowing the last thing she needed was to hit a patch of black ice and break her leg. Then she’d definitely be missing more work.
The two of them looked like a pair of friends out for a lunchtime stroll. Cassie wondered what the people inside the store would think. That they were potential patrons? That they might be there to clean their own cash? Criminals were made of all sorts of people. But a part of her wondered if they’d see Harris for what she really was.
Not that it’d be easy. In her long coat and Timberlands, Harris looked like a Chicago native. It was obvious she’d grown up in the cold weather—her jacket flapped open with the breeze, and there wasn’t a goosebump in sight. Her rosy cheeks made her look bright and healthy compared to the Harris who had slumped into Cassie’s house back in Savannah, half-drunk off misery and guilt.
They turned a corner, and the detective pulled up short. The jewelry store stood in front of them, on the corner of a side street that didn’t have much foot traffic. Convenient for a business that wanted to stay out of the spotlight, and great for real patrons who thought they’d found a hidden gem.
But it wasn’t meant to be.
A large CLOSED sign hung in the plywood-covered window. Caution tape draped across the front door. Harris pushed her aviators to the top of her head to get a better look. Then she took a step forward and tried the handle. Locked. Cassie heard her curse under her breath.
“Dead end?” Cassie asked, trying not to sound hopeful.
“Let’s go around back.”
Harris retraced their steps, and Cassie followed. Back around the corner, they turned into a darkened alleyway. If the hardened snow on the ground meant anything, it was that the sun barely found its way back there. The ice crunched underfoot, but Cassie observed plenty of footprints marring the path. No one would notice an extra set or two.
When they reached the back door to the jewelry shop, Harris nudged it open with the toe of her boot. She looked back at Cassie with raised eyebrows. It felt like an invitation, one Cassie didn’t feel compelled to accept. But there was no stopping Harris now that they had some semblance of a lead. The detective crossed the threshold and entered the building, and Cassie followed once again.
The shop was larger than Cassie would’ve thought. Several huge glass display cases cut the room in half, with a few smaller ones near the front of the store. She had half expected the glass to be shattered and the room demolished, but they were whole. And empty. It might not have been a break-in, but someone had definitely cleaned house. They’d left behind some papers scattered across the floor and a handful of filing cabinets. Two other doors stood wide open, leading to back rooms. She could see more papers. More filing cabinets. A few pieces of furniture.
The shop was still warm, despite the back door not having been closed all the way, and Cassie unbuttoned her jacket, glad to have a reprieve from the outside air. But something felt off. A hot, cloying hand wrapped itself around her chest, and every time she took a breath, it squeezed tighter. “I think we’re in the right place.”
“Yeah?” Harris sounded distracted. She was already combing through the debris on the floor. “What makes you say that?”
“You know. Just a feeling.”
“If anyone else said that, I’d have them committed.” She stood up, giving Cassie her full attention. “What kind of feeling?”
“Unsettled. Uncomfortable.”
Harris went back to the search. “Well, that clears it up.”
Cassie stripped off her jacket. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
“Just you.” Harris pulled open one of the drawers to the filing cabinet, but it was empty. So was the next one. When she pulled the third one open and found more of the same, she huffed in frustration. “We’re too late.” But she moved onto the next room anyway.
Cassie hung back, making her way through at a slower pace. She pulled her phone out and started taking pictures of each room, of the different cases and various filing cabinets. Of all the papers on the floor. The heat slowed her down, distrac
ted her. But maybe something here could help and they just didn’t know it yet. Maybe it could serve as evidence.
Ten minutes later, neither of them had found anything useful, and Cassie felt sweat dripping down her back. She peeled off her chunky sweater and draped it over her arm with her coat. Now she stood there in a tank top and jeans. She’d been cursing Chicago’s winter air all morning, and now it was all she wanted.
Cassie entered the last room and raised her phone. Harris blinked in the flash of Cassie’s final picture. There wasn’t much in there. A rickety metal desk and folding chair sat in the corner. It barely looked functional, let alone comfortable. It could’ve been a real office, but Cassie got the feeling it had just been for show.
“Did you see anything?” Harris asked. She looked Cassie up and down. “Are you okay?”
“You’re really not hot?” Cassie asked.
“Not even a little bit.”
Cassie tried blowing her hair out of her face, but it stuck to the sweat on her brow. “No, I didn’t see anything.”
“This doesn’t disprove my theory about the jewelry store being a front.” She walked back out to the main room. “It clearly wasn’t a robbery. They cleared it out on purpose. All the furniture is second-hand. The papers on the floor”—she kicked at a pamphlet—“are either garbage or props to make it look more legitimate.”
“So, they knew we were coming?”
“Maybe not us,” Harris said. “But they knew it was time to pack up and leave. We just have to figure out why.” She peered at Cassie like she was weighing options. Then she gestured to the pile of clothes in her arms. “What’s going on with you?”
