Right as we reached the front, a woman burst through the sliding double doors.

She was in her mid-forties, mascara was running down her cheeks, and one of her sneaker laces was untied.

She glanced frantically over her shoulder like someone was chasing her down the street.

“Please!

Has anyone turned in a diamond ring?” she shouted at the employees.

“I was right here twenty minutes ago!”

Harper immediately ran straight over to her before I could even stop her.

“Ma’am, is this yours?” Harper asked, holding out her small hand.