“Just a minute, miss,” the guard said. “You’ll have to come back inside the store with me.”
“Why should I?” Dana protested.
“Why? Because shoplifting is against the law.” The guard took Dana’s arm and pulled her back inside. The men stood there, frustrated.
Dana smiled at the guard. “Okay. I admit it. I was shoplifting. Take me to jail.”
Shoppers began to stop to see what was happening. The manager came hurrying over. “What’s the problem here?”
“I caught this woman trying to steal this dress.”
“Well, I’m afraid we’ll have to call the pol—” He turned and recognized Dana. “My God! It’s Dana Evans.”
Whispers rippled through the growing crowd.
“It’s Dana Evans…”
“We watch her on the news every night…”
“Do you remember her broadcasts from the war…?”
The manager said, “I’m so sorry, Miss Evans. Obviously there’s been a mistake.”
“No, no,” Dana said quickly. “I was shoplifting.” She held out her hands. “You can arrest me.”
The manager smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You can keep the dress, Miss Evans, with our compliments. We’re flattered that you like it.”
Dana stared at him unbelievingly. “You’re not going to arrest me?”
His smile widened. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll trade you the dress for an autograph. We’re big fans of yours.”
One of the women gathered around exclaimed, “Me, too!”
“Can I have an autograph?”
More people were approaching.
“Look! It’s Dana Evans.”
“Can I have your autograph, Miss Evans?”
“My husband and I watched you every night when you were in Sarajevo.”
“You really made the war come alive.”
“I’d like an autograph, too.”
Dana stood there, growing more desperate by the second. She glanced outside. The two men were still there, waiting.
Dana’s mind was racing. She turned to the crowd and smiled. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Let’s go outside in the fresh air, and I’ll give each of you an autograph.”
There were cries of excitement.
Dana handed the dress to the manager. “You can keep this. Thank you.” She started toward the door, followed by her fans. The two men outside backed off, confused, as the crowd descended on them.
Dana turned to her fans. “Who’s first?” They were pressing around her, holding out pens and pieces of paper.
The two men stood there, uneasy. As Dana signed autographs, she kept moving toward the terminal exit. The crowd followed her outside. A taxi pulled up at the curb, discharging a passenger.
Dana turned to the crowd. “Thank you. I have to go now.” She jumped into the cab and a moment later it disappeared into the traffic.
Jack Stone was on the phone with Roger Hudson. “Mr. Hudson, she got away from us, but—”
“Goddammit! I don’t want to hear that. I want her taken out of the picture—now.”
“Don’t worry, sir. We’ve got the license number of the taxi. She can’t get far.”
“Don’t fail me again.” Roger Hudson slammed the receiver down.
Carson Pirie Scott & Company, in the heart of Chicago’s Loop, was crowded with shoppers. At the scarf counter, a clerk was finishing wrapping a package for Dana.
“Will that be cash or charge?”
“Cash.” No sense leaving a paper trail.
Dana took her package and had almost reached the exit when she suddenly stopped, filled with fear. Two different men were standing outside the door with walkie-talkies. Dana looked at them, her mouth suddenly dry. She turned and hurried back to the counter.
The clerk asked, “Was there something else, miss?”
“No. I—” Dana looked around in desperation. “Is there another door leading out of here?”
“Oh, yes, we have several entrances.”
It’s no use, Dana thought. They’ll have them all covered. This time there would be no escape.
Dana noticed a woman shopper in a shabby old green coat looking at a scarf in a glass case. Dana studied her a moment, then walked over.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Dana said.
The woman smiled. “They certainly are.”
The men outside were watching the two women in conversation. They looked at each other and shrugged. They had every exit covered.
Inside Dana was saying, “I like that coat you’re wearing. It’s exactly my color.”
“I’m afraid this old thing is about worn out. Yours is very pretty.”