Night Shift (Book 1, the Night Shift series)

Chapter Three

"Morons," Mr. Oliver mumbled under his breath. He walked behind the desk and stood in front of the wall of monitors. Daniel held his papers waiting for him to say something, but the old man's eyes remained fixed on the black and white images of the various departments systematically closing down for the night.

The small room was hot and stuffy. Daniel took off his pea coat and sat on the leather couch against the wall. He was halfway through the fire safety quiz when he heard clicking. One by one, Mr. Oliver was turning off each monitor until the only image was the main entrance. The last group of employees was gathered in the foyer.

"Come on," Mr. Oliver ordered. Daniel picked up his stack of papers and followed him down the aisle. "I don't care how good you are at video games or computer hacking," Mr. Oliver began. "That useless techno garbage is for the electronic department. Your responsibility is to keep watch. Willard's is old fashioned. It doesn't need any fancy gadgets, laser beams or motion detectors." They entered the foyer dominated by the golden tree.

"Uh-huh," Daniel said, noticing the twinkling lights wrapped around every branch. He stopped at the edge of the black granite tile, while Mr. Oliver continued across the white marble pattern to the main entrance. He politely nodded to the last few clerks as they scurried by, and then locked the front doors behind them.

"It's simple," Mr. Oliver said. "The store only needs two things to be safe—me and a key." He joined Daniel, and then started walking back down the aisle. "Your job is to do hourly rounds and make sure everything is in order. Anything out of place might need to be investigated. If there's something that looks suspicious, come get me."

The soft glowing display cases in the Jewelry section sparkled with diamonds and precious stones. Daniel stared at Mr. Oliver's bent, arthritic back and suspected that if this old guy and a key are the only things keeping someone from robbing the store, ghosts were the least of his worries. Getting through the first week without being bludgeoned to death by a burglar was probably what the pool was really about.

"For tonight," Mr. Oliver said, standing in front of the elevator. "I want you to become familiar with the store and the espresso machine."

Daniel halted mid-stride. "Espresso machine?"

"It's in the kitchen, off the restaurant on the fourth floor." His tone indicated he'd said this speech a hundred times. "You work nights. You'll need coffee." Mr. Oliver pulled back the gate, and waved Daniel inside.

"Wait," he said, holding up the half-filled in forms. "What about this paperwork?"

Mr. Oliver took the stack. "I'll wait and see if you need to complete the long-term information."

Daniel couldn't ignore the obvious lack of faith in Mr. Oliver's voice. "Is that why I don't have a uniform yet either?" he asked straight out.

"No, I just forgot." Mr. Oliver handed him a flashlight. "You'll need this. The lights are dimmed at night."

Daniel motioned to the darkened main floor behind Mr. Oliver's shoulder. "I can see that."

Mr. Oliver stared back, unflinching. "Sometimes the lights go on and off by themselves." He pulled the gate shut, enclosing Daniel in the antique elevator.

Ladies Fashions was dead quiet. Daniel's footsteps echoed through the empty department. He ignored the dresses and coats, and took out the little black notebook from his back pocket. Tucking the flashlight under his arm, he opened to the front page. His drawing of a cursive V made him smile. He flipped to the back, where instead of being crossed out, the address for Willard's was circled.

He ducked behind a cashier's counter looking for a pen. Without warning, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Daniel did a sweep of the department with the flashlight, but nothing was moving, or as Mr. Oliver would say, 'seemed out of place.'