Then Thomas’s car appeared at the corner. He had returned after Marcus texted him that something had changed with the package. Thomas parked. Walked over. Gloria immediately shouted: “This is harassment.” Thomas looked at the box. Then at Marcus. “That mine?” Marcus frowned. “I thought so.” Thomas stepped closer. He examined the label. His expression changed. “That’s not my box.” Gloria stopped talking. Marcus looked at him. “What?” Thomas pointed. “My label was white.” This one was pale yellow. “My box had reinforced tape on the bottom.” This one didn’t. Marcus’s hand moved away from the package. Everything shifted. The decoy had been replaced. Or moved. The unmarked delivery van suddenly mattered.
Thomas said quietly: “Gloria, put it down.” She looked confused. “You just said it isn’t yours.” “It isn’t.” “Then what do you care?” “Because I don’t know whose it is.” Gloria glanced at the box in her arms. For the first time, she looked worried. Marcus said: “Put it on the sidewalk.” Gloria refused. “Open it.” Thomas immediately said: “No.” Gloria looked between them. Marcus nodded. “Thomas is right.” He called Officer Morales. Within minutes, two patrol cars arrived. The box remained on the ground where Gloria finally placed it. Officer Morales examined the exterior. The name printed on the label was: JASON CARTER. There was no Jason Carter living at Thomas’s address. The return label showed a shipping company neither Thomas nor Marcus recognized.
Morales asked Gloria: “Why did you take it?” Gloria folded her arms. “I thought it was mine.” Thomas laughed once. Morales looked toward him. He stopped. Gloria continued. “I made a mistake.” “Whose package did you think it was?” “My daughter’s.” “What’s her name?” Gloria hesitated. Morales waited. Finally Gloria said: “Jennifer.” The label clearly said Jason Carter. Officer Morales looked at Marcus. “What happened?” He explained the unmarked van. The man carrying a box. The brief moment on the porch. Then Gloria taking it. Morales contacted another unit. The decision was made to open the package under controlled circumstances after documenting it. Gloria objected. “If it isn’t mine, why am I standing here?” Morales looked at her. “Because you took it.” “I put it down.” “After being stopped.” “This is ridiculous.”
Then the package was opened. Everyone became quiet. Inside were several sealed bags containing an unidentified white material. No one touched them. Beside the bags sat a small manila envelope. Across the front, handwritten in black marker, was a number. 417-29. Marcus Dale stopped moving. Thomas noticed. “What?” Marcus stared at the number. Officer Morales did too. Her expression changed a moment later. Gloria raised both hands. “I’ve never seen that before.” Nobody responded. “I swear.” Still nothing. Gloria’s voice rose. “That isn’t mine.” Officer Morales looked toward the package. Then at Marcus. “You recognize the number?” Marcus nodded slowly. Thomas frowned. “From what?” Marcus took out his phone. “A case my company was asked to assist on six months ago.”
Morales stepped away and radioed someone. Her tone changed. No longer neighborhood package theft. No longer a small complaint. Gloria looked frightened. “What is happening?” Morales said: “Ms. Vance, do not touch anything.” “I’m not touching anything.” “What is that stuff?” “We don’t know yet.” “Then why are you looking at me like that?” Thomas watched Morales. “417-29.” He repeated it. “What does it mean?” Marcus lowered his voice. “It’s an identifier.” “For what?” “A set of packages investigators have been trying to trace.” Gloria stared. “What kind of packages?” Marcus looked at the open box. “Apparently this kind.” That was when Thomas understood something more disturbing. Gloria had stolen hundreds of packages. This one had not been meant for her. But it might not have been meant for Thomas either. Someone had used his porch as a temporary drop. And whoever expected to retrieve it would eventually discover the package was missing.