Night Shift (Book 1, the Night Shift series)

Chapter Thirty-three

Daniel sat on the floor of the change room and leaned against his locker, going over everything in his memory. The day his mother brought him to the store was more warped than before. Why did she bring him here if she didn't want him to go in? She was terrified when he ran into the store. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe he should leave now. He put his head between his knees to stave off the continuous threat of blackouts.

He was determined not to run away into the night like last time—at least not until he got some real answers. Questioning Mary and the others tonight was unthinkable, but there was one other person who had been at Willard's just as long.

Daniel knocked on the security office door and walked in without waiting for an answer. Mr. Oliver's usual frown changed into an expression of surprise. "What happened?" he asked, a rare tone of concern under the question.

Daniel sat down on the leather couch and focused on keeping his voice steady, afraid he'd break down. How the hell was he going to ask about his mother? "Willard's isn't like other stores," he said, "is it, Mr. Oliver?"

There was a sniff, then he replied, "Hearing noises again?"

"No."

"Change your mind about wanting to work the holiday night shift by yourself?"

A weight pulled on Daniel's heart. Only a few hours ago he was full of hope, anticipating uninterrupted time with Mary and the others. He ignored Mr. Oliver's question, but replied with his own. "Why have you worked here for forty years when so many others have quit?"

He blinked once then said, "Because I don't believe in ghosts."

"That's the only reason?"

"Why?"

"It just makes me wonder." Daniel swallowed, unsure how to ask about Mary and the others without sounding like he needed to be taken to the psych ward. Hey, you know some of the mannequins come to life at night, right?

Mr. Oliver leaned over the green blotter. "And I might wonder why a nineteen-year-old who just inherited a large sum of money would keep working the night shift instead of traveling around the world."

"I gave my resignation," he said. "Remember?"

Mr. Oliver considered Daniel's answer for a moment. Then he smoothed out his tie, letting his finger tap the W on the golden tie clip. "Is this about Mr. Travis?" he finally asked.

It took Daniel a moment to digest the question; Mr. Travis was the last person on his mind.

Mr. Oliver's eyes brightened. "What was he saying the other day when Mr. Hadley and I interrupted you?"

"I don't really remember," Daniel said, trying to rearrange the mess that his brain had become. "Something about upgrading safety, I think. He seemed to know a lot about Mr. Willard and his father."

"Hmm." Mr. Oliver sat back in his chair. "Told you all about George Willard, did he? Did he mention the gold bars?"

Daniel was totally lost as to where this line of questioning was leading. "No, only that his family was rich and that he was very successful."

Mr. Oliver breathed in slowly. "He's not the first treasure hunter to come sniffing around."

"Treasure? I thought he worked for Consumers Plus?"

Mr. Oliver winced at the mention of the big-box franchise. "He does, but his interest in this store goes back farther than any contract he agreed to work on. George Willard was a miser and turned all his fortune into gold bars. After the death of a sibling, James became the sole heir to the family fortune. When he bought this building, he took the gold bars out of the bank and began renovating." He paused and waited for a reaction.