The Robin Hood Thief by H. C. H. Ritz

Author:H. C. H. Ritz [Ritz, H.C.H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Gecko Press

25 Days

Helen followed the blackmail attempt with a successful burglary on Sunday morning. She took a sculpture and other odds and ends worth just over seven thousand dollars.

But then the Robin Hood Thief was on LSTV again that night. The news was bad.

Mr. White and possibly Mr. Tolbrook had talked to the cops—about the thefts, not the blackmail. Out at a sunlit and peaceful coffee shop, Helen scanned the text version of the article. Under the headline “Robin Hood Thief Strikes Again,” she spotted the byline of the journalist who’d reached out to her before—Christian Smith. His photo matched his profile photo on Whatsit, and his tone was, in fact, appreciative.

She played the video clip. “Authorities from all six affected counties are now working together to identify the serial thief,” the newscaster announced. “Officials say they have been receiving not only tips but direct assistance and generous donations from several of the victims, though all are doing so under condition of anonymity.”

Helen let out a sigh. The net was being cast. She stared into space, suddenly unable to fend off the vision of herself in handcuffs, probably Tasered by the cops, dragged helpless and sobbing into a patrol car.

Stop. This was pointless.

She just wished she would have the opportunity to see the fruits of her labors. She’d won a million from Tolbrook and a hundred thousand from Alvarez and maybe five million from White. But it took time for the charities to process the donations, work them into their budgets, and disburse them to the ultimate recipients. She wouldn’t live long enough to see the results take shape in the real world.

Her e-paper chimed. That would be Mandy. Only Mandy ever texted her. The message read: [ We need dog food. Jessie’s out again. ]

Helen ground her teeth. [ It’s YOUR job, Mandy. Go get some today. Now. Walk to the store. It is not that far. ]

No reply, of course.

Hoping to find some encouragement, she logged into Whatsit. Immediately, an anonymous message popped up: [ You’re not going to get away with this. You will regret ever setting foot in my house. ]

Her shoulders sagged and she wiped a hand across her face, her heart suddenly thudding. She fought back the urge to look around her in search of someone glaring from a dark corner.

Of course she knew she would make enemies, doing this, but it still freaked her out to have them.

She turned her attention back to her profile. Thousands of people were active on it. Even as she watched, someone posted the police report for Mr. Takeuchi’s missing Centaure watch, just as she’d hoped, to corroborate her video.

She scanned some of the thousands of recent comments. A lot were abusive—that would never change. It was the internet, after all. But a lot of the comments bolstered her.

[ What your doing’s awesome. Don’t stop. ]

[ Take ‘em for all their worth. ]

[ Don’t get caught, Robin! Give them the slip. They’re going to be watching closer and closer. ]

[ I just hope she gets out of the country before it’s too late.

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