Chapter 18
CHRISTIAN
The last thing Christian wanted to do was head back to his room.
He’d come out for a reason after waking from his nap, still groggy, heart pounding from a half-remembered dream.
He was pretty sure Mrs Cradley was hiding something.
The rooftop conservatory wasn’t listed on any staff floor plan, and he’d caught her sneaking out the door a few times.
So, he’d come to poke around. Only, halfway across the gravel, he’d felt that unmistakable prickle between his shoulder blades that told him he was being followed.
The last person he’d expected it to be was Merry.
She’d followed him. Apologised. Said all the things he hadn’t let himself hope she might say.
And now she’d gone, and he was wired. Still tasting her on his lips and burning with the memory of her hands in his hair.
They’d barely touched the surface of what he wanted to do to her when Mrs Cradley had appeared like a Victorian ghost with a sixth sense for sniffing out joy.
Christian figured he’d do a bit of work while he was here — burn off the restlessness that pulsed just beneath his skin. And if he happened to poke around a little more in the process? Well, there was no harm in that.
He had walked with Merry to the ground floor and kissed her goodbye at the staff door, then made his way back down the corridor and out into the atrium.
It was like coming home for the first time in years, the store utterly empty and completely silent.
He’d loved these moments when he was a kid, the quiet after the storm when the doors had been locked.
He’d had the whole building to himself — well, him and the cleaning crews — and he’d explored to his heart’s content, playing cowboys and bandits among the hats, sliding hockey pucks along the smooth floors of the sports department, watching the huge TVs in Electronics.
He may have been an only child, but the store had been like a sibling to him. It had never let him get lonely.
Now, though, something felt wrong.
Christian walked across the vast, empty atrium.
The escalators were still, the lights dimmed.
Mannequins stared at him with smiles on their faces.
The tree stood before him, smaller than the one at Rockefeller but no less impressive.
Hundreds of presents lay around its base, perfectly wrapped and gloriously shiny.
Once, when he’d been about four, Christian had opened a dozen or so of them, believing that he would find presents inside.
His dad had torn strips off him in anger, but his mum had gathered him in a huge hug and told him it was okay.
The next year, he remembered, she’d wrapped a special gift for him and hidden it among the fake presents.
She’d done the same the year after, too, and the year after that, helping him find it without causing any damage.
She’d promised to do it every single year, but of course she hadn’t — later that year she’d gone into hospital and never came home.
He wondered if there would be a present there for him now.
Shaking his head sadly, Christian surveyed the rest of the atrium.
It was a mess. Clothes hung off the rails, the floor felt sticky, and the cashier’s desks were cluttered and untidy.
It was almost like everyone had left at once, midway through their shift, leaving the store like the sailors on the Mary Celeste .
That was weird. His dad might have been lenient in some ways, but he’d always insisted on the store being spotless before everyone left, ready to open up the next day.
Why hadn’t anyone bothered? Where was the cleaning team?
Christian rode the customer elevator back up to the tenth floor.
It was just as messy up here, Santa’s grotto littered with candy wrappers and unclaimed presents.
He made his way to the staff door and let himself through, peeking his head around the locker room door to see a man sitting there, lacing up his boots.
“Harvey?” he said.
The man clamped a hand to his heart, wheezing in a breath. “Argh! Christian! Are you trying to send me to my grave? You scared the life outta me.”
“Sorry,” Christian said, walking into the room. “I didn’t think anyone was here.”
“That makes two of us,” said Harvey, massaging his chest. “I thought you was on an early today? What you doing here?”
“I . . . I just stopped by, thought I’d left my wallet,” he said, hating the fact he had to lie. “Where is everyone?”
“Gone.”
“But why? I thought Da—” He caught himself just in time. “I thought Lewis wanted the store cleaned at the end of every day?”
“They’ve not gone home for the day,” said Harvey. “They’ve gone . Like, for good.”
“What?” Christian sat down opposite the man. “Why?”
Harvey shrugged, struggling with his other boot.
“That’s half our janitors gone in the last two months,” he said. “Not to mention the floor staff. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can tell you something.”
“Yeah?” Christian leaned in.
“Yeah,” said Harvey. “I was walking my dog the other night and I bumped into Fred. He was one of the janitors who left. He was climbing into a brand-new Corvette — you know, not brand new, but new to him. Wouldn’t tell me how he got the money to buy it, but he did say he’s not the only one from Carroll’s who’s suddenly found himself with some extra cash.
Told me that if I was patient, I’d get a bonus too. ”
“A bonus?” Christian asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he get a bonus if he wasn’t staying? Were they trying to keep him on?”
“That’s just it,” said Harvey. “I don’t think he got paid to stay, I think he got paid to leave. I think they all did, all the staff who’ve left, all the janitors. Something strange is going on.”
“Yeah,” said Christian, frowning. “Something really strange.”
Harvey struggled up and Christian rushed over to help him.
“Thanks, kiddo,” the older man said. “I’m getting too old for this. I did the best I can, but I can’t clean the store by myself.”
“You did good,” Christian said. “Thank you.”
He watched Harvey shuffle away, the man’s words circling his head like vultures. Why were people being paid to leave the store? And who was paying them? It sounded like deliberate sabotage, and he would bet his bottom dollar that Margot and Mrs Cradley were the reason why.