Chapter One: After Hours

storage room, first floor, back corner, Millbrook Mall just after closing, 10:02pm

“Alex, I have to go now. Yes, I’ll bring yogurt. I promise. But if we don’t hang up, I’m literally sleeping on this floor.” She softened despite the exhaustion pulling at her bones. “Love you, sis. See you later.”

Cass dropped her phone on the cluttered office desk and stared at the towers of boxes waiting for her like smug, judgmental relatives at Thanksgiving. Two hundred. Maybe two-fifty if she was being honest with herself, which tonight, she was not.

“No problem whatsoever,” she announced to the flickering fluorescent lights. “I am a retail warrior. I am unstoppable. I am...” She hefted a box. “…deeply regretting my life choices.”

Her coworker had called in sick twelve hours ago. Conveniently. Right after posting Instagram stories from Rookie’s Bar featuring tequila shots and a screaming match with her ex-boyfriend in the parking lot. Cass got it. She really did. Hangovers were real. Heartbreak was valid. She wasn’t a monster.

But understanding didn’t make this day easier while doing double shifts, or make these boxes any lighter, and sympathy definitely didn’t pack itself.

She took off her shoes because they were too tight, and grabbed the tape gun like a weapon. “You and me, boxes. Let’s dance.”

At least no one was here to witness her descent into talking to inanimate objects. Small mercies.

security station, basement level, Millbrook Mall, around 10:10pm. Concrete walls, flickering monitors and zero cell reception

Phillip shouldered through the back entrance, toolbox in one hand, work order crumpled in the other. He punched in his access code, four beeps, green light, and the lock clicked open.

The metal door clanged shut behind him, the sound echoing down the stairwell that led straight into the guts of Millbrook Mall. Down here, the building showed its real face: exposed pipes, electrical panels held together with hope and zip ties, the constant rattle of the HVAC like an asthmatic giant.

The security room was less a room and more a concrete box someone had shoved a desk into. He dropped his toolbox and squinted at the monitor bank. Half the screens were black, the other half showed nothing but static snow.

“Yeah, I can see why Tommy called this in,” he muttered, pulling up the ancient office chair that squeaked like a dying mouse.

He should’ve been here tomorrow. That’s what the schedule said. But Tommy from management had called him personally this afternoon, voice tight with that particular flavor of panic that meant corporate was breathing down his neck. Can you come tonight? We’ve got a walk-through in the morning, cameras need to be up.

Phillip said yes because that’s what he did. Reliable Phil. Fix-it Phil. The guy who showed up when you needed him.

He popped open the main panel and got to work, fingers already reaching for wire strippers.

Just another night in paradise.

white van, plates muddied, parked at the Millbrook’s Mall rear loading dock, 10:27pm and counting

Mickey swore the cameras were dead. I want to believe him. I need to believe him. But the itch crawls up my spine anyway, that animal certainty of being watched. It’s worse on jobs like this: too much empty space, too many sightlines, nowhere to hide if it goes sideways. Doesn’t help that I’m babysitting two guys who solve problems with their fists while Johnny sits in the van, engine running, probably getting antsy.

The paranoia is an old companion by now. Janice trained it into me, pulled my strings until I learned to feel the tug before it came. Made me dance on command. I’m done dancing. Tonight I cut those strings. Tonight I take what’s mine.

So I swallow the fear, focus on the jewelry, and choose to trust Mickey knows what he’s doing.

Because what’s the alternative?

second floor, Prestige Jewelers, 10:30pm

Ray wasn’t sweating. Anyone watching would’ve thought otherwise, but they’d be wrong.

Everything was falling into place. The security code working on the first try, four clicks, green light, they were in. Now they stood on the second floor in front of Prestige Jewelers, Paul quickly working the jewelry store’s shutter lock, picks moving with practiced ease. The old mechanical lock surrendered in under a minute. No alarm, no fuss. The door was hanging open like an invitation.

Too easy, Ray thought, then immediately shut it down. Don’t jinx it. Don’t even think it.

The security in this town was a joke, always had been. Small-town cops, small-town budgets, locks that belonged in the eighties. The jewelry store owner was one of those old-school types who thought a good shutter and faith in local law enforcement was enough. No alarm system, no panic buttons, just trust and insurance. Mickey had laughed when he’d told Ray about it. He should be grateful for this level of stupid, but easy jobs made him nervous. Easy meant something you weren’t seeing.

Dave was already elbow-deep in the display cases, shoveling merchandise into a bag with all the finesse of a kid in a candy store. But Paul… He stood there like he’d walked into a cathedral, eyes wide, drinking it all in. Soaking up the moment while the clock ticked.

They didn’t have all night. Security guard made his rounds at 11pm. Mickey had been clear about that. Smart bastard didn’t want to switch his shift, didn’t want cops asking questions later about why he wasn’t there when it happened. So he stays home, clean hands, fat cut waiting for him. And Johnny waits in the van, ready to roll the second they are out.

Ray grabbed Paul by the shoulder and shoved him toward the cases. Paul snapped out of it, grinned, and got to work.

So far, so good.

Don’t think it. Don’t jinx it.

first floor, 10:35pm

“And now I’m thirsty. Fantastic.”

Cass peeled herself away from box mountain and trudged into the hallway, following the siren song of the soda machine. Her kingdom for a Diet Coke. Or regular Coke. Or honestly, at this point, she’d settle for whatever mystery flavor was lurking behind button three.

The hallway stretched out in that particular brand of mall-after-hours creepiness. Fluorescent lights humming their conspiracy theories, the distant echo of nothing, every sound weirdly amplified. Her footsteps were unreasonably loud. In my socks? Am I that heavy?

She fed a crumpled dollar into the machine, which, naturally, spat it back out. “Oh, come on. We’ve been through this. You know me. I’m good for it.”

The machine ate the bill on the third try, like it was doing her a favor.

She punched the button and listened to the mechanical groan of her soda tumbling through the machine’s digestive system. Small victories. Tonight was all about small victories.

basement security station, 10:36pm

The wiring was a disaster. Whoever installed this system had apparently learned electrical work from a YouTube video, and maybe didn’t even finish watching it. Phil traced the connections, muttering a steady stream of commentary to the empty room because talking helped him think.

“This goes here… No, wait, why would you…” He squinted at a junction box that looked like it had been assembled by someone with a grudge against future maintenance workers. “Who did this? Who hurt you?”

The work was tedious but straightforward. Strip the damaged wire, replace the connectors, reroute around the short. Basic stuff. His hands moved on autopilot while his mind wandered to whether he had beer in the fridge at home and if he’d remembered to pay the electric bill.

The first monitor flickered to life.

Then the second.

Phil sat back, satisfied, and watched the grainy feeds populate the screen. Empty hallways. Dark storefronts. The parking lot with its lonely streetlights. Normal. Quiet.

first floor hallway, 10:37pm

The soda was cold, sweet, and exactly what she needed. Cass leaned against the vending machine, savoring the carbonation like it was champagne, and mentally prepared herself to return to Box Hell.

Then she heard it.

Footsteps.

She froze, Coke halfway to her lips. Okay, probably just the building settling. Old buildings make noise. Totally normal.

But then she heard them again. Rhythmic. Deliberate. Human.

Security guard making rounds?

Except security guards didn’t travel in packs.

Cass set down her soda with the careful precision of someone defusing a bomb. Common sense screamed at her to go back to the storage room, lock the door, mind her own business. She was good at minding her own business. Professional-level, even.

But curiosity was a powerful thing. And honestly? Two hundred boxes were still waiting for her. What was a little detour?

She padded toward the escalator, the cool tile against her feet making everything feel more real and more stupid at the same time.

The sounds were coming from the second floor.

This is stupid, she told herself, climbing the frozen escalator on tiptoe. This is monumentally stupid.

But she kept going anyway.

The second floor opened up before her like a stage set, dark storefronts, security gates pulled down, everything locked up tight. Except.

Except Prestige Jewelers, which was very much not locked.

Cass ducked behind a rack of clearance winter coats in the clothing store across the way, heart hammering against her ribs. Three figures moved inside the jewelry store with the practiced efficiency of people who knew exactly what they were doing.

Oh. Oh no.

She should leave. She should sprint back downstairs, grab her phone, call 911, let professionals handle this. That was the smart play. The sane play.

Instead, she crept closer, using a mannequin as cover, a plastic woman in a power suit who looked far more confident than Cass felt. She crouched behind her, peering around its rigid shoulder.

The men were filling bags. Just casually filling bags with jewelry like they were shopping. One of them was actually smiling.

Okay. Okay, you’ve seen enough. Time to go.

But her legs wouldn’t move. She was frozen, pressed against the mannequin like they were old friends, watching a crime unfold twenty feet away.

One of the men, older, who seemed to be in charge, suddenly stopped. He went still, head tilted like a dog hearing something in the distance.

Cass held her breath.

He scanned the darkness beyond the store. His gaze swept right past her hiding spot.

She didn’t breathe. She didn’t blink. She became one with the mannequin.

After an eternity, he shook his head and went back to work.

Cass exhaled silently and thought, I’m going to die behind a mannequin in an Ann Taylor knockoff. This is how I go.

basement security station, 10:38pm

The monitors bloomed to life one by one, grainy feeds populating the screen in a cascade of gray and black. Phil sat back, satisfied, and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“There we go. See? Not so…”

He stopped.

Second floor. Three men. Prestige Jewelers.

Phil leaned forward, squinting at the screen. Is that…?

They were robbing it. They were actively, currently, right now robbing the jewelry store.

“No. No no no.” He reached inside his pocket for his phone, fingers fumbling. He nedded to call cops, security, someone…

Movement on another monitor caught his eye.

Camera three. Women’s clothing section. A figure crouched behind a… Was that a mannequin?

Phil put his phone on the desk, eyes glued to the screen.

Someone else was up there. Watching. Hiding.

The three men had bags. They had purpose. This person was hiding behind a mannequin.

Not part of the crew. A witness. Or.. oh God, an employee?

His brain ran through the options in half a second: call the cops now, and maybe that person gets caught in the middle when they arrive. Or spotted by the thieves when they panic. Or…

He watched the lead thief pause, scan the darkness like he’d sensed something.

The figure behind the mannequin went perfectly still.

Don’t move, Phil thought at the screen. Don’t you dare move.

The thief shook it off. Went back to the bags.

Phil’s hand hovered over his phone. His eyes locked on the monitor showing the person crouched in the shadows.

Just stay hidden. Just stay quiet. They’ll be gone soon.

He returned the phone in the pocket.

second floor, 10:40pm

The itch was back. That crawling sensation between his shoulder blades that said you’re being watched.

Ray stopped, bag half-full, and turned slowly. The mall stretched out beyond the store entrance, dark, empty, silent. Just shadows and shuttered gates.

Nothing.

“Boss?” Dave looked up, hands still moving on autopilot.

“Keep working,” Ray said quietly.

He scanned the darkness again. Clothing racks. Mannequins in frozen poses. The dead eyes of the mall after hours.

You’re paranoid. The cameras are down. Mickey said so.

But Janice had taught him to trust his gut, even when his gut was an anxious liar.

He watched the shadows for another beat. Nothing moved.

“Two minutes,” he said. “Then we’re out.”

They didn’t have two minutes. They had ten before the guard. But Ray wanted gone. Wanted out. Wanted to stop feeling like prey.

The bags were almost full anyway. Time to go.

Paul grinned at him, holding up a diamond tennis bracelet like a trophy. Ray nodded.

Two minutes. Then we disappear.

The itch didn’t go away.

10:45pm

They moved like ghosts. Ray led them out, bags over shoulders, footsteps careful and measured, Dave right behind him. Paul pulled the gate down with barely a whisper of metal on metal, locked it behind them. Because leaving it obviously broken open would be sloppy, and Ray didn’t do sloppy.

The second floor stretched before them, dark and still, except for those fluorescent lights blinking like it’s Christmas.

Ray’s shoulders didn’t relax until they hit the stairwell. Even then, the itch persisted. That feeling of eyes on his back, watching him leave.

He didn’t look behind him. Didn’t acknowledge it. Just kept moving.

Down the stairs. Through the service corridor. Out the loading dock door where the van waited, Johnny behind the wheel, engine already running, Mickey’s prep work paying off one last time.

They were inside in seconds. The door slid shut. Johnny didn’t wait for the signal, just pulled away smooth and easy, headlights off until they cleared the parking lot.

Ray let himself breathe.

In the back, Dave and Paul were already celebrating in whispers, hands rifling through the bags like kids on Christmas morning. Paul caught Ray’s eye in the rearview mirror until it disappeared into the darkness.

Gone. Clean. Done.

So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that something had gone wrong?

second floor, 10:49pm

Cass didn’t move.

Couldn’t move.

The men were gone. She’d watched them leave, counted to sixty, counted to sixty again, but her body refused to cooperate. She stayed pressed against the mannequin, her heart doing its best impression of a jackhammer, her breath coming in short, silent gasps.

They are gone. You’re fine. You can move now.

Her legs had other ideas. They’d turned to jelly somewhere around the time the leader had stared directly at her hiding spot, and they showed no signs of recovery.

She tried to stand. Her knees buckled. She caught herself on the mannequin, which wobbled alarmingly on its base.

“No no no,” she whispered, steadying it. “Don’t you dare fall. We’re in this together.”

The absurdity of the situation hit her all at once. She was having a crisis behind a plastic woman in a business suit, her socks were probably filthy from the mall floor, and she’d just witnessed an actual crime. An actual, real-life robbery.

Should’ve stayed with the boxes. Boxes don’t commit felonies.

She tried to stand again. This time her legs held, though they trembled like a newborn deer’s. She gripped the mannequin’s shoulder for support.

“Thanks,” she told it. “You’re a real one.”

That’s when she heard footsteps.

Heavy. Quick. Coming up the escalator.

Cass’s blood turned to ice.

They came back. Oh God, they came back, they know someone saw them…

A figure emerged from the darkness, broad-shouldered and moving with purpose.

Cass did the only thing her panicked brain could think of: she grabbed the mannequin’s arm and held it like a weapon.

“I have a mannequin!” she announced, her voice cracking. “And I’m not afraid to use it!”

The figure stopped. Raised his hands.

“Whoa! Hey, it’s okay. I’m not… I work here!”

“That’s exactly what a criminal would say!”

“I’m maintenance! Phillip Rose, I was fixing the cameras downstairs…”

“The cameras?” Cass’s brain struggled to keep up. “The cameras are working?”

“They are now, yeah, and I saw everything on the monitors. I saw them, and I saw you hiding, and… Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Cass realized that she was still holding the mannequin arm in a threatening position. She lowered it slowly, though she didn’t let go entirely. Just in case.

“You saw me,” she said. “On the cameras.”

“Yeah. Behind the mannequin. Which, for what it’s worth, was actually pretty smart. You stayed really still.”

“I became one with the mannequin,” Cass said, then immediately regretted it because she sounded unhinged. “I’m Cassandra. Cass. I work at Valley Trends, first floor. I was just packing boxes and then I heard footsteps and I’m an idiot who doesn’t mind her own business, apparently.”

Phil took a cautious step closer, hands still raised like she was a spooked horse. “You’re not an idiot. You’re really, really lucky you didn’t get caught.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“I… No. I saw you up here and I thought if I called them while those guys were still around, you might get hurt, or they’d think you were involved, or…” He stopped. “I should’ve called them. I know I should have.”

Cass stared at him. He was tall, built like someone who lifted heavy things for a living, and he looked genuinely distressed about not calling the police.

“So we both just… watched a robbery happen,” she said slowly. “And neither of us called the cops.”

“That’s… yeah. That’s pretty much what happened.”

They stood there in the dark, second floor of Millbrook Mall, a mannequin’s arm still clutched in Cass’s grip, processing their joint failure at civic duty.

“We should probably call them now,” Phil offered.

“Probably,” Cass agreed.

Neither of them moved.

“Did you see their faces?” she asked. “On the cameras?”

“Not great angles, but, yeah. Some. You?”

“One of them looked right at me. Older guy. Seemed like he was in charge.”

Phil nodded. “I saw him. He kept looking around like he knew something was off.”

“Because something was off. We were off. We were the off thing.”

Before Phil could respond, they heard it: the distant sound of the mall’s main entrance opening. Footsteps. A flashlight beam cutting through the darkness on the first floor.

“Security guard,” Phil whispered.

“Now?” Cass hissed. “Where was he twenty minutes ago?”

They heard the guard’s voice calling out, echoing through the empty mall. “Hello? Anyone here? Maintenance?”

Phil and Cass looked at each other.

“Do we…?” Cass gestured vaguely.

“Yeah, we should probably…” Phil gestured back.

They made their way to the escalator, Cass still carrying the mannequin arm because at this point, why not. Phil called down, “Hey! Yeah, up here!”

The guard appeared at the bottom of the escalator, flashlight swinging up to catch them in its beam. He was older, fifties maybe, with the rounded gut of someone who’d spent more time in a guard shack than on patrol. He looked flustered, his uniform rumpled.

“Phil? What are you… Why are you up there?” His flashlight swung to Cass. “Who’s that?”

They descended the frozen escalator, Cass very aware that she was in socks, holding a dismembered mannequin arm, and probably looked completely deranged.

“Hey, Jerry,” Phil said, his voice carefully neutral. “This is Cass. She works at Valley Trends. We were just…”

“Why are you both here?” Jerry looked between them, confused but not suspicious. “It’s almost eleven. I thought you were coming tomorrow, Phil.”

“Schedule change. Tommy called me in early.” Phil paused. “Where were you? I’ve been here since ten, haven’t seen you.”

Jerry’s face crumpled with guilt. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I had to step out, family emergency. My sister called, her kid was in the ER, and I just.. I had to go check on them. I was only gone forty minutes, I swear. Just got back.” He ran a hand over his face. “Is Tommy gonna find out? I can’t lose this job, Phil.”

“Your nephew okay?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, yeah. False alarm. Anxiety attack, turned out. But you know how it is, family calls, you go.”

“Right,” Phil said slowly. “Family emergency.”

Cass watched this exchange, her brain putting pieces together she didn’t like. Forty minutes. Just happened to be gone during the exact window when three men robbed a jewelry store. Just happened to have a convenient excuse.

Jerry’s eyes landed on the mannequin arm in Cass’s hand. “Why do you have that?”

Cass looked down at it like she’d forgotten she was holding it. “I… it fell. In the store. I was putting it back.”

“In your socks?”

“I like to take them off when I can. They confine me.”

Jerry stared at her. Phil cleared his throat.

“Anyway,” Phil said. “Everything’s fine. Cameras are fixed. Cass was just finishing up some inventory work. We’ll get out of your way.”

Jerry nodded, still looking bewildered. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks for coming in, Phil.” He glanced between them again. “You two know each other?”

“We do now,” Cass said.

Jerry shook his head, chuckling. “Maintenance and inventory on the same night? Corporate’s really cracking down, huh? Pretty soon they’ll have us working Christmas Eve.” He yawned, already turning back toward his security station. “Well, at least nothing exciting happened while I was gone, right?”

He walked away, flashlight beam bobbing, completely oblivious.

Cass and Phil stood in the empty mall, watching him go.

“Did he just…” Cass started.

“Yeah,” Phil said.

“Nothing exciting,” Cass repeated.

“Right.”

They looked at each other.

“We need to talk,” they said in unison.

Cass held up the mannequin arm. “My office or yours?”

Photo by Luisana Galicia on Unsplash