Five minutes after they left the station, they got their first diversion—a call from a department store security guard who was holding a woman for shoplifting. They walked around and found the guard waiting for them at the entrance to Roches Stores. It was the kind of place that sold a bit of everything: clothes and housewares, bits of technology and kids’ toys. There was a café on the fourth floor that sold tea and coffee and cake cut into slices that would feed a multitude, Carrie knew from personal experience.

The security guard was muscle-bound, his uniform one size too small, and from the way he flexed to display his pecs at their approach, Carrie figured that was a deliberate choice. His hair was short, just shy of a shave, and his skin had the sheen of an exercise addict.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “I’ve got her in the back room.”

“Why don’t you show us the way?” Carrie asked.

He led them through the racks of clothing to the back of the store. They attracted more than a few glances on the way. The nervous energy the security guard was giving off wasn’t helping.

“New to the job, are you?” Niall said.

The guard missed a step. He gave Niall a dirty look and straightened his shoulders. “It’s this way.”

Sitting in a small, windowless office was the arch-thief in question: a tiny woman in her midseventies. Her hands were shaking, and her eyes were tearful. On the table in front of her were four little cars, painted in bright primary colors, presumably the stolen goods. Niall took one look, then turned with a grin to the guard.

“Good thing you called us,” he said. “Give you much trouble, did she?”

The guard’s frown deepened. “You should take this more seriously. She might look like someone’s granny, but these people have sophisticated methods. They take something small, something they can explain away, and it’s just a test to surveil our security arrangements. Then they come back a few hours later and take the place apart. Or she might have been a distraction—in to take up our attention while her conspirators steal the bigger stuff.” He glared at the woman. “We’re reviewing CCTV footage now.”

“I put them in my bag, just to carry, and I forgot I had them. I’m so sorry.” The shake in her hands looked like it was getting worse.

“What’s your name, love?” Carrie asked.

The woman shook her head, and the security guard bristled. “She refused to tell me.”

“You’ll have to tell us your name, love,” Carrie said gently. “Come on, now. We don’t bite.”

“Maire McCloskey,” the woman said, and then she dropped her head and started to cry in earnest.

“Have you ever been in any kind of trouble before, Maire?” Carrie asked.

Maire shook her head.

Carrie crossed over and sat in the chair next to her. She took the older woman’s hand. “Listen. You’re not the first to make a mistake, and you won’t be the last.” This close, Carrie could see that there wasn’t a scrap on the woman’s back that wasn’t ten years old. Her coat looked neat and tidy from a distance, but close up, it was clear that the cuffs were threadbare. Her shoes were clean and polished, but well used, and her handbag was cheap, the shoulder strap cracked and peeling.