Night Shift (Book 1, the Night Shift series)

Chapter Twelve

"No way!" Monique squealed and plucked the tiny medallion from Daniel's palm.

He gave her a tired grin, his eyelids working to stay open. "You might want to clean it, considering it's been sitting at the bottom of the fishpond for a week."

"Yeah," she said distractedly, still staring at the gold piece. They stood in the staff break area, just outside the locker rooms. Blue-vested clerks brushed past them in a nonstop parade on Willard's busiest day of the week. Daniel glanced at his watch—his shift was officially over an hour ago. He doubted he'd be able to stay awake for the walk back to the hotel.

"Um, so," he began, fighting a yawn. "I guess Stacey is off the hook."

Monique stopped smiling. "Don't blame me for accusing her. A girl has to follow her instincts. And there's something about her that's...I don't know. Shifty, I guess."

"Shifty?" Daniel wasn't sure if he should laugh.

She shook her head. "Never mind, guys don't understand. But thank you so much for this." She went on tiptoes and hugged him. "I knew I could count on you," she said.

When he opened the door to his hotel room, Daniel could hardly focus. He threw his backpack on the bed and started to undress. Then realized he had nothing clean to wear to work tonight, or for his date. Monique was certainly making her intentions clear, but it was Mary he couldn't stop thinking about. There was a mystery about her that he found unsettling yet incredibly alluring—like Willard's itself.

The plastic laundry bag hanging in the closet held most of his clothes. After he called the concierge, Daniel fell into bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The evening wind bit through his coat, and whipped around his newly cut hair, freezing his ears. He would have preferred a barber shop over the hotel spa any day, but after his shower, Daniel had taken one look in the bathroom mirror and put in another call to the concierge. What was the point of showing up in clean clothes if his hair looked like a freaking tumbleweed?

He saw the familiar royal blue banner up ahead. A small collection of people were gathered on the sidewalk admiring the Little Mermaid display. She commanded the attention of all the faces on the other side of the glass with her jewelled hair and luminous features. It's only natural, he reasoned, to be drawn to something so beautiful. Daniel thought about the phrase from his dream, now copied in the back of his little black notebook, "...how you see the world depends on which side of the glass you're on."

Running the last few yards, he pushed through the main doors, eager to leave the cold gray world outside. There was a comfortable order to Willard's as shoppers browsed, and then moved on. The flow of foot traffic around the display cases and aisles was constant and smooth—like blood vessels travelling through veins. Daniel stood on the white marble tile of the main foyer and took a deep breath, feeling the energy of the store.

He changed into his freshly pressed blue shirt and pants, and went directly to the security office, but the door was closed once again. He didn't want to risk interrupting another meeting, so he backed away without knocking.

Monique was perched on the edge of the rainwear display. She slipped her foot out of her heels, and flexed her toes a few times.

She turned and saw Daniel. "Check you out, Mr. GQ! I like the new hair."

He touched one side, self-consciously. "It's not so much shorter," he said.

"No," she grinned, "it still has that tousled thing going, but now it's more sexy than shaggy." Daniel had no idea what to say. Being around Monique was like being in a sauna; he got sweaty, he couldn't breathe, and his cheeks were constantly flushed.

"Anyway," she continued, wiggling back into her stilettos, "I'm glad you dropped by."

"How's that?" he asked, leaning against the cashier's counter.

She took a tube from her blue vest pocket and applied a fresh layer of lip gloss. "I get off in an hour."

"I start work in an hour."

"Then we'll have to make the most of what little time we share," she laughed. "Today was awesome, I made so many sales, and I'm so happy you found my necklace."

"And Stacey?" he asked carefully.

"That's the best part," she said. "Shifty Stacey wasn't in today. So I didn't have to see her shifty eyes or her shifty face at all." Then she reminded him, "A girl's intuition trumps all else."

Even logic, he thought.

"But enough about me," she said. "Is it getting too creepy, working at night with Mr. Oliver?"

"No," he smiled, "the store's actually pretty cool at night."

She moved in closer. "I guess you haven't met the Bloody Assistant yet?"

The ghost stories were getting old, but he decided to indulge her. "Okay," he sighed. "I'll bite."

"Don't be like that." Monique pouted. "I had to do a paper for my history class. All the facts are in the newspapers in the library archives. I didn't get an A, though; my teacher called it 'a lot of glamorous gossip.' She said the crime section wasn't exactly renowned for its authenticity. But I can tell you this." She lowered her voice. "In the early nineteen hundreds, this building used to be a theatre."

"I know," Daniel said. "A lousy magician couldn't afford the rent, so the bank sold it to Mr. Willard."

"Not quite," she said. "The magician made a horrible mistake onstage, and the volunteer from the audience ended up dead. He disappeared that night, disgraced."

"What does that have to do with the assistant?" he asked.

"She was murdered days before the horrific finale. But here's the catch: they never found her body, only a huge pool of blood in her dressing room backstage." Her eyes grew wider with each gruesome detail. "The police recorded her death as an unsolved homicide. I've seen the original blueprints of the theatre. Guess where her dressing room used to be."

"Wait a minute," Daniel said, letting the panic come through his voice. "I was doing a round in Menswear last night, and there's one change room door that always stays locked."

"Oh my God!" Monique put a hand over her heart.

"I had my master key ready to open the door, but then I thought of all those night guards who quit and maybe," Daniel paused and swallowed loudly, "...maybe whatever is inside the locked change room is the reason why they leave."

"What did you do?" she whispered.

"I had no choice," he said. "I opened the door."

"And?!"

"A woman was covered in blood, talking about revenge. Do you think that was the Bloody Assistant?"

Monique let out a disgusted huff. "Wait and see," she said, poking him in the chest with a red fingernail. "I bet you'll be crying tears of terror on my shoulder soon enough."

"Haven't you heard?" he said, picturing the glass bowl in the security office. "Anyone who bets against me loses." Feeling superior with that awesome comeback, he gave her a wink and started down the aisle.

"Interesting, though," she called out, making him turn around. "How did you know Menswear was the original backstage area?"

Daniel's smile faded. "I didn't," he said.

"Have a nice night." She smirked, happy to have the last word.