Night Shift (Book 1, the Night Shift series)

Chapter Twenty-one

Daniel shifted his weight, making the wooden chair squeak. The silence was unbearable. It was like being interviewed all over again. Mr. Oliver's hands were pressed flat on the green blotter. When Daniel had sheepishly knocked on the door a few minutes earlier, Mr. Oliver only nodded to the chair. Since then, he'd been quiet, staring him down.

Daniel squirmed again.

Squeak.

"Um, look," Daniel began, unable to stand the passive interrogation. "I'm not sure how to ask you this, but—"

"No phone call," Mr. Oliver interjected. "No note. No message. Only a key left carelessly on top of my desk."

Daniel knew this wasn't going to be easy. "There was a...situation."

"The very key I personally gave to you," Mr. Oliver continued, his voice rising.

"It's just that—"

"I don't care if you're having girl trouble, or if your car got stolen or if your favourite TV show got cancelled. The most important thing is keeping the store safe. In all my years working at Willard's, I've never met a more incompetent guard than you."

Daniel's mouth fell open. He couldn't help but be insulted. "I may have left your precious key without a note, but I'm not incompetent."

Mr. Oliver said, "You left the main doors unlocked! Everything in the store was at risk because of your carelessness. I should fire you on the spot."

Daniel had no desire to stay at Willard's, but he didn't want to see it harmed either. "I don't want my job back," he said.

"Hmm," Mr. Oliver said. "That's unexpected."

Daniel wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. "It's not because of ghosts," he clarified. "Willard's isn't what I need right now, I guess. The reason I came back is because I need to ask you something."

"A letter of reference for your next unsuspecting employer?"

"No." He tried hard not to roll his eyes. "It's about an inheritance."

The door opened, and one of the day guards walked in, holding a clipboard. "Sorry, Mr. Oliver," he said. "I've gone down the list, and no one can work tonight."

Mr. Oliver snatched the clipboard. "Even this guy?" he said, pointing to the list of workers. "The narcoleptic?"

The day guard shook his head. Mr. Oliver turned to Daniel. "One more shift and I'll give a letter of reference," he offered.

"I don't need a letter of reference."

"You're the only one who doesn't believe in ghosts," Mr. Oliver said. "You're supposed to give me two weeks' notice, actually."

Daniel almost laughed at the absurdity. "You mean like the other guards, who left because they were scared?" he challenged. "I bet they didn't have to give you two weeks."

Mr. Oliver was unimpressed. "I never got a chance to ask them, because they never came back." He paused and lifted a white eyebrow. "Unlike you." There was a mysterious hint to his tone that made the hair on Daniel neck stand on end.

His eyes were drawn to the glass bowl of bets. He thought of Sean and his jerk friend from the first day. He'd promised himself he'd quit on his own terms. He reasoned it might be easier to talk to Mr. Oliver about the inheritance after hours. Daniel knew that if he left the store, he'd never come back—this last shift was his only chance to get some answers, and he was certain Mr. Oliver knew something.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll work tonight."

The day guard slouched out of the room. Mr. Oliver nodded, then opened a desk drawer and handed over the silver key. "Don't be such an idiot this time," he said.