Chapter 9 #2
Casey had cut through this department when she came on shift—the hidden bookcase door offered a quick route to the staff areas and stockrooms on the attic floor—and she was sure she would have noticed it then.
It certainly couldn’t have been there when the staff were still in, as they would have cleaned it off.
Besides, Kerry and Dave would have mentioned it in the handover.
So, this had appeared since she’d been on shift.
“Look, if it was you, playing a prank on me, I won’t be cross. ”
Margo laughed. “Do you think I’d be nervous of experiencing your wrath? I don’t think so, sweetheart. Besides, I’d have written it in blood.”
Casey could believe it. “Then someone else is in the store with us.”
“Or you have an angry ghost,” Margo suggested.
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Oh, you absolutely should, they’re as real as you and I. There’s a veritable army of them in this place.”
Scanning her eyes around the second floor, Casey shelved that information in the place where she kept things that she would fret about in bed later when she was supposed to be trying to sleep.
Her adrenaline spiked when her gaze landed on a glass cabinet and more messages, this time in white.
She marched over, Margo hurrying behind her.
“White eyeliner if I’m not mistaken,” said Margo, scratching one of her greasy ham nails over the words Die Screaming!
In total, three glass cabinets, the mirror, and one glass coffee table had been graffitied in this way.
I Know What You Did, I’m Coming For You, and I Watch You Sleeping completed the scribbled threats.
At this rate, the chances of Casey ever sleeping again felt pretty slim.
“Security office. Now,” she said, and to her surprise Margo snapped to attention and followed.
Together they studied the screens, and Casey was grateful for another pair of eyes.
All was quiet on the first floor. “There!” shouted Margo, stabbing her finger at the Lanc?me counter.
Casey looked closer, squinting to make out what Margo had seen, and then she saw it, written in lipstick across the glass counter: It’s Behind You!
“Shit!” Casey cursed.
“Well, quite, that’s a waste of a good lipstick.”
“They must still be in the store.”
“Trailing behind us? I don’t know how we didn’t see them.”
Casey smoothed her hair behind her ears. “We’ve been using the main staircase. They’re obviously taking the staff stairs. They must have stowed away after closing.”
“Sneaky.”
“Yeah. But are they dangerous?” Casey really didn’t want to have to call the police two nights in a row and be written off as a hysterical woman afraid of working a night shift alone.
“I need to check it out.” She handed Margo a walkie-talkie and said, “You stay here and keep watch. Message me if you see anything.”
“I’m not staying up here. Not on your nelly!” said Margo. “I’m coming with you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that…”
Margo fixed her with a withering stare. “Really, darling, you think I’m in danger from some little scrote armed with a lipstick and an eye pencil? How sweet.”
“Fair point. Follow me. And no funny business.”
“Spoilsport.” Margo pouted.
Checking the screens once more and seeing no sign of anyone, they stole out of the office and began their descent.
Casey’s heart was in her mouth. Nigel had trained her to deal with break-ins, but it was always on the understanding that he would be there taking the lead, while she would be on the phone to the police.
He would be furious if he could see her now, taking on an intruder alone.
But I’m not alone, she reminded herself.
I’m with a woman who can summon hot dogs out of thin air; at the very least she could pelt the prowler with pork products.
There was no possible exit via the ground-floor main entrances—the doors had alarmed shutters on the inside—so Casey knew that the trespasser’s only way out was through the staff exit on the lower ground floor.
She was thankful for the thick carpeting on the stairs and that a year of going up and down them when the store was empty meant that she was well versed in where the creakiest treads lay.
Margo, of course, slid down the banisters but kept her whooping to a respectful minimum.
The only downside to this plan of action was that the staircase to the lower ground floor was situated in the center of the room, meaning Casey would be exposed to anyone hiding there.
Cautiously she began tiptoeing down the final flight, skimming her eyes over the food hall, homeware, and Christmas sections. She had just reached the bottom stair when she saw the door to the left of the fancy olive oils and balsamic vinegars shelving swing closed.
“Bugger!” she hissed under her breath, and broke into a run.
“Ooh, are we giving chase?” Margo squealed delightedly, catching up to her, aubergines, peppers, and crusty loaves exploding out from beneath her coat as she ran. “How exciting!”
Casey didn’t answer but jabbed her finger in the direction of the food hall exit.
It only took a few seconds to cross the floor, and she stopped abruptly at the door, turning to Margo and motioning for her to be quiet with her finger on her lips.
She took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her ears, and pushed through the door.
The corridor was long and windowless, with sensor lights running along the tops of the walls that lit the area with a dingey, murdery sort of glow.
“If I was alive this would make me nervous,” Margo whispered. Casey rolled her eyes but silently agreed. She’d walked this corridor hundreds of times alone, but knowing that there was someone hiding somewhere gave it a dreadfully sinister vibe.
There were doors leading off the corridor to offices, the boiler room, and restrooms, and at the end it branched left and right.
The right corridor eventually ended up in a waste disposal area, but the left led to the loading bay and staff exit, and it was here that she headed, aware of the sounds her rubber soles made on the linoleum and the swish of her thighs rubbing together in her sensible work slacks.
Margo was vibrating with excitement, and Casey hoped she wouldn’t live to regret letting her tag along.
A brick had been used to hold the door, which made sneaking into the loading bay infinitely easier.
She kept low as she crept in, sticking to the shadows created by packing cases and forklift trucks, wishing she had more than just her words to defend herself.
She motioned to Margo to stay close and saw that she was trailing roast turkeys with all the trimmings behind her, which infused the air with the scent of crispy potatoes and sage and onion stuffing.
Casey’s stomach growled so loudly it seemed to rumble around the silent warehouse.
She put her hand to her stomach and cursed under her breath.
As she did so she heard the click of a lorry door being closed quietly.
There were three lorries lined up with their back ends facing the giant metal shutters and only one of them had its doors closed. Gotcha!
Borderline dizzy with fear buzzing through her veins, she motioned to Margo to get ready—for what, she wasn’t entirely sure—and then counted down from three in her head, yanked the doors open as hard as she could, and shouted, “Right! That’s it, stay right where you are!”
There followed a scream and a flapping of what she would later discover to be an orange sleeping bag before a figure with wide frightened eyes barreled past her, knocking her sideways and making for the door back into the store.
“Stop him!” Casey yelled, gathering her wits and making to follow.
With a flick of her wrist, Margo caused the brick holding the door open to shatter into dust and the heavy door to slam shut just as the perpetrator reached it.
He skidded to a stop, his trainers squeaking on the concrete, and spun around.
Casey had just enough time to see that he was young and terrified before he darted in between the storage crates.
Casey was hot on his heels, reasonably confident that he was far more afraid of her than she was of him.
“Listen,” she called. “I know you’re scared, but you need to come out here where I can see you so that we can talk. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” Gawd, I hope he offers me the same courtesy, she thought as she looked down and saw that her hands were shaking.
The silence stretched on. She had the advantage of knowing what this building sounded like at night. She listened closely, and hearing nothing other than the usual creaks, clicks, and taps, she knew that the kid hadn’t moved from his hiding spot.
“You know, we could stay here all night, but it’s going to get really boring.
And you’re going to get a cramp if you stay crouched in your hidey-hole for too long.
” Still nothing. Had she been mistaken? Was there a way out of this warehouse that she didn’t know about?
“My name’s Casey. And I don’t want to be here any more than you do right now.
I’m supposed to be stacking shelves, not chasing vandals.
Why don’t you come out? I’ll make us a cup of tea, and we can talk about this. ”
The scrape of a box being shifted along the floor sounded to her left and she swiveled to the noise.
Margo was instantly beside her, hands clenched to fists and held up like she was ready for the boxing ring.
Slowly, two hands raised above a stack of pallets, followed cautiously by the arms, and finally the head and torso of a scrawny teenage boy with a mop of dark hair and eyes so round with fear that Casey had to hold herself back from giving him a hug.
“Hey,” she said, pushing as much calm into her voice as she could muster. “I’m Casey. And you are?”