Page 16 of Montana Justice

“Fell out?” I pulled out my notebook, more from habit than necessity. “Could it have been an accident?”

“That’s what I’m thinking, but Angela was working register three, saw the whole thing happen. The customer was juggling her purchases, trying to get everything organized, and the can just tumbled out. Could’ve been completely innocent, but…” Dave shrugged helplessly, his hands still fidgeting with anxiety. “Angela called it in to the station before I could stop her. Standard procedure, you know? Any theft over twenty dollars gets reported to law enforcement. She was just following protocol.”

I could see Dave’s dilemma written all over his face. Store policy dictated one thing, but his conscience was telling him something else entirely. “You don’t think it was intentional.”

“Hell, Lachlan, I was ready to just let it go. Pay for the formula myself and send her on her way with a gentle reminder to be more careful. Thirty dollars isn’t worth destroying someone’s life over. But Angela had already made the call, and I couldn’t exactly tell her to forget about it. What kind of message would that send about following procedures?”

Dave had always been caught between being a by-the-book manager and being a human being who cared about his community. It was one of the things I’d always respected about him—he found ways to do right by people while still running a successful business.

“Where is she now?”

“Break room in the back. Told her to wait there while we sorted this out.” Dave’s weathered hands drummed against the counter. “She looks pretty rough. Pale, tired. I don’t want to make her life harder.”

“Any idea who she is? Local?”

“Definitely not from around here—I know pretty much everyone in town and all the regular customers. She seemed nervous, kept looking around like she expected trouble. Paid with cash, small bills mostly, like she’d been saving up.”

“Let me go talk to her. See what her story is.”

“Thanks, Lachlan. You remember where the break room is? Behind the deli.”

“I remember.”

I made my way through the employee area, past the time clock where teenage employees punched in for their after-school shifts, past the bulletin board covered with work schedules and safety reminders and a flyer for the upcoming Halloween costume contest. The break room door stood partially open, and I could see someone sitting at the small table inside, but the angle prevented me from getting a clear view of her face.

I knocked on the doorframe, keeping my voice gentle and professional. “Ma’am? I’m Sheriff Calloway. I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened today.”

She stiffened and turned slowly to face me. My hand froze on the door handle for a heartbeat before I pushed it open.

Piper Matthews sat at the break room table, and the sight of her hit me like a physical blow to the chest.

She looked like a ghost of herself. My heavy winter coat—the theft of that had pissed me off way more than the cash she’d taken—hung way too big on her frame, but at least under it, she looked like she had gained some weight, which she’d desperately needed.

Her face, though, looked gaunt and hollow. Sharp cheekbones stood out in harsh relief, and dark circles shadowed her eyes like purple bruises. Her hair was back to being its natural blonde, and pulled back in a messy ponytail that looked like it had been styled by exhaustion rather than design.

Anger exploded through me, swift and brutal and tinged with something that might have been hurt if I’d been willing to examine it too closely. I tamped it all down as best I could.

“What are you doing here, Piper?”

She flinched at my tone but didn’t look away, meeting my gaze with those hazel eyes I’d thought about far more often than I cared to admit over the past year. “Hello, Lachlan.”

“Don’t.” I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me, suddenly aware of how small the space was, how her presence seemed to fill every corner despite her diminished appearance. “Just don’t. What are you doing in Garnet Bend?”

“I—”

“And what’s this bullshit about stealing baby formula? What kind of sick scheme are you running now? Planning to resell it to desperate mothers who can’t afford it? Because that would be a new low, even for a Matthews.”

If possible, she got even paler. “No, it’s not like th?—”

“Oh, it’s not? Then enlighten me, Piper.” I didn’t even care that I wasn’t allowing her to get a word in. This definitely wasn’t how I would normally talk to a suspect. I’d ask a single question and let them do most of the talking. “Tell me what brilliant con you’ve cooked up this time. Decided that sleeping your way through town to steal money was not the way you wanted to go? Decided to go the stealing baby formula route instead?”

“It was an accident.”

I almost laid into her again, but her voice made me stop. It was barely above a whisper, tinged with defeat and an utter lack of fight.

“Accident,” I repeated, my voice flat with disbelief. “Explain.”

“I was going to pay for it. I have the money.” She reached into her pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out a small wad of bills, setting it on the scarred break room table between us. The money was mostly ones and fives, the kind of small bills that suggested someone living hand-to-mouth, scraping together whatever they could find. “I paid for everything else. The formula was in my pocket because I was trying to keep my hands free to carry…everything, and I forgot about it when I was checking out.”

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