Night Shift (Book 1, the Night Shift series)

Chapter Forty-two

Tugging on his backpack, Daniel faced the long sheets of rain. The brightly lit window display illuminated the dark, wet sidewalk in front of the store. His loafers slapped through the puddles as he ran the last few steps. He stood in the light and looked up. All the blood in his head whooshed to his feet.

Mary was perched on the sparrow as Thumbelina. His backpack dropped to the concrete, forgotten. She turned her head and stared down at him. He raced to the window, and pressed his palms flat against the glass. "Hold on," he yelled. "I'm coming to get you."

He was frantic to save her; if anyone saw Mary move even an inch, she'd die. Daniel's hand was shaking too badly to fit the key into the lock. He saw Mr. Oliver on the other side of the glass door. The look of terror on his face matched Daniel's racing heart. Their images overlapped, and he couldn't tell if he was looking at Mr. Oliver or his own reflection.

The sound of screeching metal made him turn around. A massive wrecking ball hurtled forward, smashing him through the front of Willard's.

Daniel lay on his back, breathing heavily, blinking at the ceiling. He swore under his breath and kicked off the sheets. He couldn't even be a hero in his dreams. Still shaking from the image of Mary trapped in the display window, he took an extra long hot shower.

He walked down West 18th Street, his anxiety building. Daniel went through a mental checklist for tonight. Mary made it sound simple, but there were so many things that could go wrong.

What if Mr. Oliver insisted on doing rounds with him? What if Mary couldn't override the security files? And what if Blanche dropped dead on the sidewalk or froze in mannequin pose forever?

His footsteps kept time with his racing pulse. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. Mr. Oliver would take one look at him and know something was up. He had to purposely stroll into work tonight like he was counting down the days until his resignation. He glanced at the address on the corner building; he was getting close to Willard's. Daniel smiled and it felt fake.

That first morning he'd stood in the rain and stared at the entrance for over half an hour, trying to match up images of a childhood memory. The search for that faint moment in time had set all of this into action. He realized that even if he hadn't gone travelling, the inheritance would have brought him here...eventually. But that wouldn't have been soon enough for Maureen and Blanche.

This time, Daniel paused on the street, half-hidden behind an ambulance parked across from Willard's. Yeah, he thought, 911 is right. Hardly a good omen, but Daniel knew he had no choice. Everything had come down to this night; all of the loneliness, all of the searching, all of the dead ends, and all of the hoping with none of the rewards. He'd never been in charge of his destiny, he realized bitterly; it was laid out long ago.

He ran across the street and stopped in front of the window display. Thumbelina flew on her rescuer's back, ready to embrace a more beautiful life. Blanche was saving herself by finding her purpose. All he was doing was delivering her to Maureen. He wasn't the hero, he was the gofer—Daniel didn't need the Magic 8 Ball to tell him that.

He studied his image, mirrored in the glass. New haircut, new shoes, and cleanly shaven, but he was still the same pathetic loner who'd walked inside the store a month ago. Right now, part of him wished he'd never gone into the store. He whispered, "Walk through its doors and you will find, Willard's is just what you need."

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the urge to grab the next cab to the airport to subside. He kept his head down as he pushed through the main doors, taking the path to the grand staircase—he wasn't ready to see Mr. Oliver yet. He needed to see Mary, even if she was still in pose. He gripped the hand railing, smearing the shiny brass finish.