Chapter 3: The Name on the List
“It’s someone standing inside that store with you right now.””
My father’s words stayed in my ear.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Nobody moved.
The boutique had gone so quiet that I could hear the faint hum of the recessed lights above us.
Daniel stood behind the counter, one hand resting against the tablet.
Chloe was several feet away, pale and rigid.
Three sales associates were gathered near the jewelry display.
And at the far end of the room, a woman in a charcoal suit stood perfectly still.
Helen Mercer.
Assistant Director of Sales.
She had worked for my father for twelve years.
She had attended family dinners.
She had sent me birthday cards.
When I was nineteen and my mother died, Helen had been one of the first people outside my family to sit beside me at the funeral.
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Then she smiled.
It was a small, careful smile.
“Evelyn,” she said, “is something wrong?””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Dad says I should leave.””
Helen’s eyebrows lifted.
“Why would he say that?””
“I asked him who was involved.””
Her smile disappeared.
“And?””
I looked directly at her.
“He gave me a name.””
Daniel glanced between us.
“Miss Evelyn…”
Helen interrupted him.
“Daniel, you’re upsetting her with all this speculation.””
“Speculation?”” I repeated.
She turned toward me.
“Yes. We found a problem with inventory. That does not mean anyone here stole anything.””
“Then you won’t mind if we check the access records.””
Her face remained calm.
“Of course not.””
I nodded.
“Good.””
Daniel opened the records.
Helen walked closer.
“I think we should handle this professionally.””
“We will.””
“Then perhaps you should stop accusing employees based on incomplete information.””
“I haven’t accused anyone.””
Her gaze sharpened.
“You were looking at me.””
“Because you were looking at me.””
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then Chloe suddenly stepped forward.
“Miss Mercer…”
Helen turned.
“What?””
Chloe swallowed.
“The dress.””
Helen’s eyes flicked toward the emerald gown.
“What about it?””
“The seam was already damaged when I picked it up.””
Helen’s expression changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“So?”” she asked.
Chloe looked nervous.
“I was told to pull it from the display anyway.””
Daniel stiffened.
“Who told you that?””
Chloe looked at Helen.
Helen’s voice became cold.
“Be careful, Chloe.””
Chloe immediately looked down.
That was enough for me.
I turned to Daniel.
“Pull the raw security footage from the fitting-room corridor.””
Daniel nodded.
Helen took one step forward.
“Evelyn, I think your father would prefer this handled privately.””
I met her eyes.
“My father told me to leave.””
“Yes.””
“But he didn’t tell me to stop looking.””
She exhaled slowly.
“You don't understand how serious this is.””
“I understand exactly how serious it is.””
I pointed toward the screen.
“Three million dollars in questionable inventory adjustments.””
Helen folded her arms.
“And you think I did that?””
“I think someone did.””
“Then perhaps you should look at the actual evidence before ruining someone’s career.””
I smiled faintly.
“That's why we're looking.””
Daniel entered a password.
Another screen appeared.
A list of employee access cards filled the monitor.
Dates.
Times.
Restricted areas.
Item numbers.
I leaned closer.
There was the emerald dress.
Accessed at 9:12 a.m.
Again at 9:15.
Again at 9:21.
Then my own name appeared.
9:32 a.m.
I frowned.
“That’s impossible.””
Daniel looked confused.
“You entered the store around 9:30.””
“Yes, but I never touched the inventory system.””
“That isn’t what this says.””
I stared at the screen.
Someone had used my employee identification number before I even arrived.
Helen spoke softly behind me.
“Perhaps someone made an administrative error.””
I turned.
“Maybe.””
She nodded.
“Exactly.””
“But there’s something interesting.””
Her expression tightened.
“What?””
“My ID is only supposed to work with a biometric confirmation.””
Daniel slowly turned toward her.
Helen’s face went blank.
I looked at the employee records again.
“Who has administrative permission to override biometric verification?””
Daniel hesitated.
Only one person had that authority at the downtown location.
He looked at me.
Then at Helen.
“The assistant director.””
Nobody spoke.
Helen laughed once.
“That's absurd.””
I stepped closer.
“Then give us your access card.””
She stared at me.
“My what?””
“Your access card.””
“Why?””
“Because if you have nothing to hide, you won't mind.””
Her eyes hardened.
“You cannot treat me like a criminal.””
“No,” I said.
“But I can ask questions.””
She glanced toward Daniel.
“Are you seriously allowing this?””
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, Helen.””
She stared at him.
“You’re sorry?””
Then something unexpected happened.
Helen reached into her handbag.
She pulled out her access card.
For a moment, I thought she was going to hand it over.
Instead, she dropped it onto the counter.
“Fine.””
Daniel picked it up.
He scanned it.
The system beeped.
His face changed.
“What?””
I stepped closer.
“What is it?””
Daniel stared at the screen.
“This card was used at 9:11 a.m.””
Helen looked surprised.
“That can't be right. I wasn't here at 9:11.””
I looked at her.
“Where were you?””
“At home.””
Daniel checked the camera attached to the front entrance.
Then he froze.
I watched him replay the clip.
A woman entered the boutique at 9:10.
She wore Helen’s exact charcoal suit.
Her face was partially covered by sunglasses.
But the handbag was unmistakable.
Helen's handbag.
The woman walked straight toward the private collection.
Nobody followed her.
Nobody stopped her.
She opened the cabinet containing the emerald dress.
Then she took something from her pocket.
A small silver blade.
Chloe gasped.
Helen went completely still.
I looked at her.
“You said you weren't here.””
“I wasn't.””
“Then who was that?””
Helen didn't answer.
Daniel zoomed in.
The woman removed her sunglasses for only a second.
The image was blurry.
But there was enough.
Enough to see the face.
My stomach dropped.
Because it wasn't Helen.
May you like
It was Helen's daughter.
And she had worked in this very boutique three months earlier.
