“It’s registered in his parents’ name, by the looks of things.” Nate looked up from his phone, where he’d been conducting a quick search. “He’s a young guy. Must still be living at home.”
“This doesn’t seem right, does it?” Laura asked. “We’re in the middle of suburbia, he’s a young guy living with his parents and working as a security guard. A steady job that will help him get his own place before long. Our manager clearly trusts him.”
“But what Tanya said is right,” Nate shrugged. “He’s the only person who has access to the storeroom for his whole shift without oversight. Every other person would have to get the mannequins out past him, or leave through the back exit and raise suspicions by never leaving after their shift. It’s a good bet that he would be behind it.”
Laura nodded. “I hope he is,” she said, sighing. “Because if we’re wrong, our next step might be poring over hundreds of hours of security footage to see if we can catch a glimpse of someone – who probably knows where the cameras are – sneaking them out.”
“Come on,” Nate said, getting out of the car and leading her over to the door.
He knocked once, loudly enough, then stepped back. They waited for a long moment, but there was no sound or sign of life from inside the house.
“There’s a car still in the driveway,” Laura pointed out. “And he’s a nighttime security guard. It seems kind of implausible that he would be out at this time of day.”
Nate shrugged. “Maybe he’s asleep,” he said. “If he sleeps during the day, I guess he would possibly need to wear headphones or use a noise machine to cancel out the noise from the street, in which case he might not hear my knock.”
“That’s true, I guess,” Laura said. “Should we take a look?”
Nate nodded and moved towards one of the windows.
The curtains were open, so it was possible to see through the ground-floor windows into the home itself. One of them revealed a dining room with a slightly dusty dining table and a cabinet full of dainty dishware. The other showed them an empty living room with a sofa and TV set, along with framed photographs of the family. There was no sign of anyone moving or even sleeping inside.
“Back windows?” Laura suggested in a low voice. She could see there was a path around the side of the building. It led to a fenced-in yard with a solid wood gate just as tall as the fence, but that wasn’t going to be a problem for Nate.
He nodded once, walked over to the gate, and – with the help of a garbage can set out for collection day – pulled himself over it, dropping down to the floor below.
A moment later, the gate creaked open, Nate pushing it from the inside.
Laura joined him in the backyard, a small space without much to define it – there was a small, paved area at the back of the house and some flowerbeds, but no other signs of activity. What there were, however, were two wide windows and a French patio door, giving them excellent visibility into the back of the house.
Laura looked into one of the windows, the one furthest from the gate, strolling past the others and seeing no sign of movement. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw someone inside the room, standing with their back to the window.
No. It wasn’t a person.
Laura grabbed Nate’s arm silently and pointed.
It was a mannequin.