Chapter Three: The Inside Job
1035 Words
The jewelry store’s sterile lighting reflected off every shattered surface, the room an odd mix of glamour and destruction. Nathaniel paced leisurely through the chaos, his hands clasped behind his back, while Marcus and Ramirez questioned the staff.
The owner, still flustered, was recounting the events with the clarity of someone who hadn’t slept in days. “I-I don’t know what happened. I came in this morning, and the cases were smashed, everything was gone. No alarms, no nothing!”
Marcus jotted down notes, but his eyes kept darting toward Nathaniel, who was crouched near one of the display cases again, inspecting the shards of glass.
“Interesting,” Nathaniel muttered.
“What now?” Marcus asked, already irritated.
Nathaniel straightened, holding up a tiny shard between his fingers. “The glass wasn’t just broken from the inside—it was cut. See the clean edges here? This wasn’t a panicked smash-and-grab; it was deliberate, careful. Our culprit wasn’t in a rush.”
Ramirez crossed her arms. “So they had time, which means they knew how to avoid the alarm. An inside job?”
Nathaniel smiled approvingly. “Exactly. Someone who knew the layout, the security system, the timing. And, if I may say, they were rather elegant about it—although not quite as elegant as me.”
“Stop making everything about you,” Marcus snapped.
Nathaniel smirked but didn’t reply, instead moving toward the security console. He bent down, examining the wiring. “Ah, here it is. Our thief didn’t disable the alarm—they bypassed it entirely. See this?” He pointed to a subtle splice in the wiring. “That’s expertise. Definitely someone who’s been here a while.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened as he glanced at the gathered employees. “Ramirez, start questioning everyone again. Look for inconsistencies.”
Nathaniel chimed in, “Oh, I already know who it is.”
Both Marcus and Ramirez turned to him, startled.
“What?” Marcus asked. “Who?”
Nathaniel held up a finger, grinning. “Patience, Detective. It’s all about the timing.”
As the questioning resumed, Nathaniel wandered around the store, seemingly aimless but watching everyone with hawk-like precision. His gaze lingered on a young man nervously stacking some leftover merchandise in the back.
After a moment, Nathaniel casually leaned over the counter, whispering to Marcus, “The boy with the shaky hands. Derek, isn’t it? He’s sweating like a politician under oath.”
“Derek?” Marcus frowned. “He’s just a sales associate.”
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Is he? Or is he also conveniently in charge of closing the store on Tuesdays—like last night, for example?”
Marcus stared at Nathaniel. “How do you even know that?”
Nathaniel shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “I asked him. He was very accommodating.”
“You’re impossible,” Marcus muttered before motioning Ramirez to follow him toward Derek.
It took less than five minutes of questioning for Derek’s story to unravel. At first, he denied everything, but his trembling hands and shifting gaze betrayed him.
“You don’t understand,” Derek stammered, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want to! They forced me into it!”
“Who’s they?” Marcus demanded, his tone sharp.
But Derek didn’t answer. Instead, he bolted, shoving past Marcus and Ramirez with surprising speed.
“Damn it!” Ramirez shouted, starting after him.
Marcus was close behind, but before they could reach the door, a blur of movement shot past them. It was Nathaniel, somehow faster than either detective despite the fact that he wasn’t even supposed to be part of this.
“Wait here,” Nathaniel called over his shoulder, grinning as he sprinted out the door.
The chase didn’t last long. Derek made it halfway down the block before Nathaniel caught up, effortlessly tackling him to the ground in a single fluid motion.
“Honestly, Derek,” Nathaniel said as he pinned the struggling man to the pavement, “you could at least try to be original. Running? How cliché.”
Moments later, Marcus and Ramirez arrived, panting. Marcus yanked Derek up by his arm, slapping cuffs on him.
“Why am I not surprised?” Marcus muttered, glaring at Nathaniel.
“I told you I’d be useful,” Nathaniel said, brushing imaginary dust off his suit as he stood. “And you doubted me.”
“This isn’t a game, Grey,” Marcus snapped.
“Oh, but it is,” Nathaniel replied with a smirk. “It’s all about strategy, timing, and knowing your opponent. And if you ask me, I played it beautifully.”
Back at the precinct, Derek confessed everything. He’d been working with a small group that specialized in high-end heists, using his position at the store to provide insider information. The team had promised him a hefty cut, but when things went south, they left him to take the fall.
Marcus leaned back in his chair, satisfied but exhausted. Across from him, Nathaniel perched on the edge of his desk, twirling a pen between his fingers.
“Well,” Nathaniel said, “another successful case. You should be thanking me, Detective.”
“Thanking you?” Marcus asked incredulously.
Nathaniel shrugged. “Without me, Derek would be halfway to Canada by now.”
Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nathaniel, we’re done here. You’re not coming on another case.”
Nathaniel feigned disappointment, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. “Oh, come now, Marcus. Admit it—you enjoyed our little adventure.”
“No,” Marcus said firmly. “Absolutely not. You’re a civilian and a thief. You’re lucky you’re not back in cuffs.”
Nathaniel grinned, leaning closer. “Maybe. But you’ll call me when the next interesting case comes up. I just know it.”
Marcus glared at him, but Nathaniel’s confidence never wavered.
With a final wink, Nathaniel straightened his jacket and headed for the door. “Until next time, Detective.”
“There won’t be a next time!” Marcus shouted after him.
But Nathaniel didn’t respond. He simply raised a hand in a lazy wave as he disappeared into the night.
- Writer
