With considerable effort, Willa reached toward the counter and steadied herself with one hand. She pulled herself forward in the chair so Derek could hear her clearly without leaning over her. "I am not leaving," she said. "I came to purchase a birthday gift for my granddaughter. That is all."
Derek looked at her hand on the glass. His anger had moved beyond annoyance into something more dangerous, a need to dominate the encounter no matter how little sense his actions made. He struck the back of her hand with his open palm. The sound was sharp and unmistakable.
Willa's fingers released the counter. Pain surged through her wrist, already made tender by illness, and she drew her hand close against her blouse. She closed her eyes and fought to keep her breathing even. At seventy-six, she had learned that a sudden injury could cost her more than the first moment of pain. She concentrated on staying upright, on not losing control of her body in front of strangers, and on remembering that she had done nothing wrong.
"You just hit that woman," Martin Vale said. He had stepped out from beside the watch display, phone raised. "I watched you do it."
Derek turned. "Sir, this is a store security matter. I suggest you step back."
"She's in a wheelchair," Martin said. "She's done nothing to you."
"Step back, sir."
Martin retreated one pace but did not lower his phone. Grace's recording continued from the other side of the department. A woman near the entrance whispered that someone should call the police, unaware that Patricia was already giving a version of events to a dispatcher in which the older woman was described as aggressive.
Derek moved behind the wheelchair. Willa could not see his face, only hear the sharp sound of his expensive shoes against the marble. Nadine shifted to keep herself between his hands and Willa's shoulders. Before she could reposition the chair, Derek kicked its left wheel.
The wheelchair lurched. Willa's body jolted against the safety belt, and the remaining catalog slipped from her lap onto the floor. An orange medication bottle rolled out of the bag Nadine had been trying to secure. Nadine cried out and caught the chair handles, using all her weight to steady it before it moved farther. Her own hip hurt, but she barely noticed now.
"Stop it!" Nadine shouted. "Stop touching her!"
Derek stepped back, breathing heavily. He seemed surprised by the volume of the shout, as if the room had no right to react to what he had done. He adjusted his jacket with a trembling hand. For a moment the polished man from the morning briefing disappeared, replaced by someone who had lost the ability to distinguish obedience from respect.
Curtis stepped forward from the wall. "That's enough, Derek."
The manager swung toward him. "You want to lose your job too? Badge on my desk by the end of the day."