Already Chosen, page 18
“Not right now,” the foreman said, scratching the growth of stubble on his chin as they all paused near the doorway. “We don’t do a stock take more than every couple of weeks or so. I’d say we’re just about due to get a stock count any day now.”
Laura’s eyes opened wide.
Two weeks since their last stock count. That meant that all of the killings had happened in the time since then. And if they hadn’t checked their stock yet, they wouldn’t have been able to report any thefts. They wouldn’t know about it yet.
She thought of her vision. If she really was seeing the future, then it had to be a future which took place at that storage facility. All of the mannequins set neatly in rows, waiting to be picked up and delivered to their future homes – it made sense. It had to be there.
“Where is this storage facility?” she asked.
“It’s back in city limits,” the foreman said, nodding towards an imagined horizon beyond the walls of the factory. “It backs onto a converted office unit, so it’s pretty cheap even though we’re transporting them around all the time. We even have a deal with a local haulage firm to make sure we keep the costs low.”
“What firm is that?” Laura asked, feeling a certain heaviness in the pit of her stomach, a certainty that she knew what she was about to hear.
“It’s Mariesville Freight,” the foreman shrugged. “Pretty much the only firm around here that can do the job.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Nate muttered.
“That was the company Xavier Perez worked for,” Laura told him in a hushed tone, the magnitude of it now hitting her.
The freight company that Xavier Perez worked for. The storage facility attached to converted offices, which Laura knew in her bones without having to look it up would have to be the site where Dr. Vincent Usipov would have his therapy sessions. The mannequins from the storage facility, taken during a time when there were no stock checks, which had to mean insider knowledge. The killer had to have known about their window for getting away with the theft.
They had to be an employee.
“That’s the last one,” Detective Thorson said, putting down the phone and looking over at them. “None of the employees here has a criminal record. Also, I don’t know how many people this rules out, but – I noticed a schedule on the wall for the last few days.”
She nodded towards it, and Laura moved over, drawn to it as though Thorson had attached her to a string. She read the simple color-blocked schedule and groaned inwardly. There was a block clearly marked OVERTIME FOR ORDER CATCHUP – and the times extended into the evening for over a week of days in the past.
“Who worked these shifts?” she demanded, spinning to look at the foreman.
“Oh, everyone,” he nodded seriously. “No one gets out of it. We had a mess made by one of the machines, ruined an order. Supervisor wasn’t doing his job, and the checkers missed it as well, so everyone was responsible. We split the workforce in half and did alternating days for the overtime.”
“You’re telling me that every single one of your employees has an alibi for either last night or the night before?” Laura said. It strained belief. It felt like every time they were really getting somewhere with this case, some improbable force came along and pushed them three steps back. How could it be possible that they were so close, and yet still not on the right track?
“That’s right,” the foreman said. He frowned, sweeping his hat off his head and rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Yep, I can’t think of any absences. No one left early. You don’t, when you’re on the team. The rest of the guys would never let you forget how you abandoned them during overtime.”
Laura turned to look at Nate with utter disbelief and despair. So, now they were down again without a single suspect. When was this going to end?
But to her surprise, Nate didn’t look that perturbed at all.
“What about at the storage facility?” he asked. “Does your staff roster here include them?”
“No, it doesn’t,” the foreman said. “They’re a separate staff. We’re technically two sister companies under one umbrella, because the warehouse gets used for rentals as well from time to time. So, if you want to know about their staff, you have to talk to the manager over there.”
Laura looked at Thorson and then Nate. They had to see this through. No matter how devastating each new blow was starting to feel, they had to carry on. Somewhere at the end of all this was the answer.
Somewhere at the end of all this, they had to stop a murderer from having the chance to kill again.
“Call the manager,” Laura said, beckoning both her colleagues as she stepped towards the stairwell. “Tell him we’re on the way, and he needs to get his records ready. By the time we arrive, we need to know how many mannequins have been stolen since the last stock check.”
She swept past the foreman and took the stairs two at a time, cursing herself for not thinking to check out the local businesses near the therapist earlier, even though she knew in her heart there had been no need to at the time.
And filled with hope that at last, they might be about to finish this case off with one last nail in the coffin of it all – and pin down the employee who had set all of this in motion.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Laura tried not to vibrate with pure rage as she got out of the car, slamming the door harder than she needed to just to get rid of some of that negative energy. The warehouse was right ahead according to their GPS – the entrance around the back of the converted office block they had been to so recently to speak to the therapist.
Oh, if only they had known back then. Maybe all of this could have been avoided.
“Where are we going?” Nate asked, his head whipping from side to side as Laura pointed ahead to the side alley she had already seen. There must have been another entrance which allowed larger vehicles to load and unload at the back of the warehouse, but she couldn’t see it and there was no way she was going to waste time insisting they park there now.
She led the way down the side alley and past the side of the office building, then around to a more cavernous entrance that clearly led into the warehouse. Instead of knocking, she tried the door. She didn’t want to wait. Even the small delay caused by a person walking over to let them in could be crucial at this point. The door opened and she rushed inside, taking only the minimum time required to assess that she wasn’t walking directly into danger.
The doorway led them directly into an entrance way, clearly designed for checking in shipments, completing paperwork, and perhaps loading and unloading smaller orders. There was a desk with someone standing behind it – a balding man with a rail-thin build who appeared to be scratching a few marks on some paperwork, who looked up and pushed his glasses up his nose as they entered.
“Hello,” he said, glancing them over. “Can I help? Are – are you the agents I’m supposed to meet?”
“That would be us,” Laura confirmed, nodding grimly. “We need your staff roster as quickly as possible.”
“I heard, and I have it here,” he said, quickly lifting up several sheets of paper. “I was just adding a couple of notes next to anyone who was fired in the last couple of years as to what happened to them.”
“Fantastic,” Laura nodded, turning to look at Thorson. “Detective…?”
“On it already,” Thorson said, stepping forward to take the paperwork, her cell phone ready in her hand.
“As for us, we need a tour of your facility,” Nate said. “Have you been able to complete a stock check for us?”
The manager paled a little. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It takes us a full day to do the stock check. That’s with two of us.”
“And you’re the only one in today?” Nate clarified, as they walked towards a door at the other side of the short entrance area, leaving Detective Thorson behind at the desk.
“No, I’m the only manager,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of employees with me today. They’re here for help with loading and unloading, and organizing the goods in the space. They aren’t authorized high enough to do the stock take.”
“Got it,” Nate nodded. “This is, what, the onboarding area?”
“Something like that,” the manager nodded. “Typically the drivers come into this area to show us their paperwork, getting everything signed off, and figure out where to unload. Then one of us will go with them, get the truck unloaded at the bay doors, and start transporting everything where it needs to be by forklift.”
They moved through the doors, and Laura felt a gasp escape her throat without any way to prevent it. The space they were walking into now was the one she had seen in her vision – she was sure of it. Here, it was brightly lit, and she could make out the back wall of the warehouse to easily define just how large it was. But no matter what the vision had concealed and blurred for her, the details she could remember were all there.
Right in front of them, stretching out into the distance but facing towards the right-hand side of the room, was a veritable army of mannequins.
“Yes, it’s a little creepy if you aren’t used to it,” the manager said, chuckling lightly. “Newcomers often have that reaction.”
Laura didn’t bother telling him that he was wrong – that she wasn’t afraid. No, she was pleased. This meant they were close – closer than they had been for the whole case. They were finally in the right place. She gave Nate a significant look, and he nodded in understanding.
This was it.
A chill traveled up her spine as they moved fully into the huge open space, looking right out across the storage area. Now that she could see it from this angle and in clearer light, she saw that there weren’t only the standing mannequins in lines – though they did seem to take up the majority of the occupied space. There were also other kinds of mannequins arranged behind them – seated ones, partial body forms such as disembodied torsos that were probably used to display lingerie, and, if she squinted, what looked like one area of only heads. She shuddered again. It was a good job the killer had chosen to use the full mannequin and not just heads. Somehow, that would have been even creepier.
“This is your full stock?” Laura asked, looking around. She couldn’t imagine there was any more. The collection was vast – and now she understood why it would take a full day to do a stock take.
“Yes,” the manager said. He had a kind of pleased, satisfied look as he admired the neatly-arranged rows. It had probably been his guidance to set them up this way and not just in a ragtag arrangement. “A lot of them are just here temporarily, waiting to be transported to the stores and boutiques that order them. Some, particularly the mannequins closer to the front, are overstock. We sometimes experience a rush on our services and need to make sure we have some spares around to cover it.”
It made sense, of course. Laura found herself drawn to the right, walking down the side of the rows of mannequins and then out in front of them. There was another opening right at the front of the room before all of the mannequins, the place where she knew she had been standing in her vision. She couldn’t resist stepping into that exact spot, turning, looking up to see the weight of all the collective mannequins seemingly gazing back at her…
And up ahead, somewhere in the middle of the huge collection, she saw one of them move.
“Over there,” she said, turning to the manager who had followed her over. “Is that one of your employees?”
He squinted ahead and then nodded. “Looks like that’s Dan. I asked him to take a look at the rows, see if there were any obvious gaps where someone might have taken something. Seems like he’s almost done.”
Laura felt something in her gut. She had no reason to suspect that this Dan was the person they were after. Not really. After all, he was just a random person she’d spotted among the mannequins.
But he was the one person moving in the field of unmoving bodies, just like she had seen in her vision, and that had to mean something.
“Can we speak to him?” she asked, glancing at the manager. “Just a quick interview, to see if he’s spotted anything.”
“Sure,” the manager nodded. He raised his voice suddenly, lifting his chin as if to physically throw his voice further. “Hey! Dan! FBI here want you!”
There was a pause, and Laura saw the mysterious Dan emerge from behind a column of mannequins and stare right at them.
Before she could fully process the realization that he was going to do it –
He turned and ran.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Laura set off immediately without waiting, not needing either permission or guidance as to whether giving chase was the right thing to do. To her left she was aware of Nate also giving chase, his larger frame almost knocking over one of the mannequins as they both entered the thin rows, one line apart.
She raced with her elbows tucked into her sides, trying to pump her arms without knocking into any of the silent guards that seemed bent on slowing down her progress. The employee slipped out of her line of sight but it didn’t matter – he was wearing basketball shoes with rubber soles that slapped loudly against the hard floor of the warehouse, echoing off the walls but not enough to conceal the direction the sound came from. Laura carried on straight, sensing from his progress that he was going for an exit somewhere towards the back of the room.
Somewhere to her left, there was a loud clatter as a mannequin fell, and she heard Nate swear just before several other clatters sounded one after another. A domino effect. She didn’t let it distract her, but it did send her heartbeat racing up another notch: make one mistake here, and you could get yourself stuck, hemmed in by an avalanche of plastic.
Somewhere up ahead, she heard another clatter, and it was her time to swear – because it sounded as though their suspect had just figured out the same thing.
If he brought down enough of them, they might never catch up to him.
Laura put on another burst of speed, seeing the back of the warehouse in her view at last. If she got out of this tangle of mannequins and props and staging, she could at least get a chance of catching up with him –
An oversized plastic arm caught on her sleeve as her increased pace reduced her control, and she found herself having to dive to the side, only to almost fall onto a crate stacked with unattached legs. She caught herself and kicked off the ground to almost dive out of the last row of mannequins, glancing over her shoulder just once to see that Nate was still fighting his way through, several rows back, then focusing in front again. There was no one in her immediate view, but she could still hear his shoes – off to the right somewhere – she burst around the corner of the last column of the display, and there he was, fighting his own way out of a tangle of what looked like dog-shaped mannequins – some of them small, some of them larger.
He saw her and turned to back away, only to trip over one of the smaller dogs, sending himself flying. Plastic models scattered before him like bowling pins, each knocking over another and another, the sound of it multiplying into a cacophony that echoed back from the walls of the warehouse, drowning out everything else.
Laura didn’t let it stop her. Didn’t pause or hesitate. He was down, and she had her chance.
She leapt over what looked, in her heightened state of awareness, like a model dalmatian, putting her hands down on its back and vaulting forwards until she was right on top of him. He was scrambling on his stomach, trying to get to his feet, models shifting under him like marbles. Laura reached –
And clamped her hands down on top of his, pushing him back to the ground in a vice grip, determined not to let him go.
“Dan -” she said, panting for breath and stopping for a moment. “Wait, what’s your name?”
“Dan Molloy,” he said, in strained groan.
“Dan Molloy,” she repeated with satisfaction. “You’re under arrest on suspicion of murder.” She caught her breath as Nate came over, tripping over another two fake hands and almost bringing down what looked like a plastic tree before he made it over to them.
Somewhere at the other end of the warehouse, she imagined the manager looking over his ruined storage with utter dismay, and the adrenaline made her hysterical enough that she actually laughed.
***
“Alright,” Laura said, throwing a closed file down on the interview room’s table and sitting opposite their warehouse employee. “Dan Molloy.”
The suspect in question sneered at her from across the other side of the table, his cuffed hands clinking slightly as he tried to move and found himself unable to. “What do you want, pig?”
Laura glanced at Nate, who rolled his eyes as he took the chair next to her. “How original,” she commented drily. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“It’s inaccurate, you know,” Nate pointed out. “We’re FBI, not police.”
“What do I care?” Molloy spat, looking both of them over with a derisive snarl on his face. “Doesn’t make any difference what you are.”
“Oh, it makes a difference, buddy,” Nate said. Just the size of his muscular arms made them vaguely threatening as he leaned on the table and pitched forward slightly. “Because it means we can put you in a whole new world of hurt compared to what the police can. You don’t want to provoke us into increasing your charges. Judges listen to us.”
Molloy actually scoffed, turning his head towards the ceiling as if he had no need to listen to them.
Laura knew why, and she was almost beside herself with anticipation on how his face was going to look when he found out he was wrong in his assumption.
“You don’t think we can do anything to you, do you?” she asked. “You think you’re going to get away with this. As soon as you’re let out on bail or allowed access to the outside world, you’ll be gone into the wind and we’ll never find you again. Is that it?”
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