Thievery: Part 7


((So, this story is getting pretty bad plot-wise because I had no idea where I was going. Oops. Finishing it anyway, because the plot’s almost over.))

It had been the right decision. Lora might, if she pleaded, get away with missing a day of work (she could cite a family emergency or something–she wasn’t friendly enough with any of her coworkers for it to be an obvious lie), and things miraculously getting better for her seemed more likely than getting away with some diamonds at this point.

Anyway, Dean and Roger and Donald were idiots.

…Kind of pitiable idiots.

…Not unlikeable idiots, either.

But no, she couldn’t have regrets. If she made a clean break, forgot about the day’s events, it would all go away.

Lora would reach her work soon, and then it would all be over.

They had been questioning Dean for hours. At least, that’s what it felt like–he didn’t have a watch and there was no clock.

Still, they definitely seemed to be asking more questions than were necessary. Dean had probably gone over the day’s events two or three times already, and they kept saying he was changing his story or something–it was hard to pay attention to all their jargon.

Well, maybe not jargon. Dean just had difficulty paying attention to them in general. It wasn’t out of lack of trying, but when his brain was focused on what horrible a situation he was in–

The bank had cameras. He hadn’t stolen the diamonds. He was safe.


“This guy can’t have done it all by himself. I mean, look at him.”

The words stung Donald, especially since no efforts were made to keep him from hearing them. Then again, he was slouched in his seat, examining a coffee cup. There wasn’t much else to do.

“I can hear you, you know,” he said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the detectives just laughed.

“Security cameras show it was him, and, well, he did forget about the cameras.”

“Doesn’t this break some sort of police-suspect confidentiality… thing?” Donald said.

More laughing.

“At least we have evidence and a confession. I could do with more idiot criminals.”

Roger was sweating profusely, having been in the same room for what easily could have been hours, stuck talking to the same detective over and over again.

“You do understand that just because you didn’t steal the diamonds in the first place doesn’t mean you’re completely innocent, right?” the detective said.

“Yes, but we were really just scared! You can’t blame us for that, can you?”

“You broke the law, Mr. Saunders.”


They sat there in silence for a few moments.

“I think we’re done here, Mr. Saunders.”


Lora saw it in a newspaper she scrounged up the next day: the article didn’t mention names, but it did mention the bank robbery, and that three arrests were made. It really was over.

And already fading in her mind, at that–the specifics of the day felt slightly fuzzy, even, the voices of Roger and Dean and Donald not as clear as they were before.

It had all been rather pointless, come to think of it.

((And thus this horrible little story gets a horrible little ending. Expect a self-review sometime tomorrow or the day after.))


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