The Cashier

I had only been a cashier for about six months, but I had learned a lot about people, especially those who would steal from the store. I was always watching to see if anything suspicious happened while I was working and I occasionally witnessed suspicious events but none more suspicious than one afternoon near the end of my shift. 

I worked every time I was asked to and since cashiers were usually part-time we never got a full forty hour week. I worked hard trying to raise an energetic three year old all alone after his father had been killed by a drunk driver. I did have a roommate that shared an apartment and helped me with my son, Lincoln. 

The manager closed my register and said, “Susan, take care of this last customer and I will get you out of the register.”

I only had one customer left in line. I turned my register light off and put up the register closed sign to signal to anyone else that this register would be closing and began checking out the items for the middle aged man standing in front of the counter. I don’t generally pay a lot of attention to items I check out, I figure it isn’t any of my business but the group of items I had rung up was beginning to creep me out. 

One or two of these items individually would be no big deal but grouped together they seemed to paint a gruesome story. I had already bagged duct tape, rubber gloves, trash bags, zip ties and bleach; then he laid a hack saw and a utility knife with blades on top of the counter. The last item he put on the counter was an eighteen pack of beer.

I said, “Sir, may I see an ID?”

He replied, “Is that really necessary?”

I answered, “Standard practice and required by the home office. If we check everyone then we can’t be cited for discrimination against anyone.”

I knew very well he was old enough but I just wanted to make a note of his address in case I hear something later along with his name of course. He was obviously perturbed but he held up his wallet with his driver’s license in it. I asked him to please take it out of his wallet because we were required to scan it. That wasn’t true and I could have typed in a date and he could have been on his way. 

He handed me the license and I looked closely at the name, address and description before scanning it into our system. I knew I might need this information later. Maybe I watched too many true crime news shows on television but everything in my being told me this guy was not behaving right. I also noted the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead and his sweaty palms I could feel when he handed me the money. I also saw a small trace of blood under his fingernails that hadn’t washed off, even though it looked like he had tried.

He paid cash, not wanting to leave a card trail but I had already seen his identification and after he took his bags and walked off, I printed out a copy of the receipt I had just handed him. I wrote his name and information on the back.

I wrote, “John McKinley, age forty two and his address, 4254 south elm street.” I didn’t know if I would ever need this copy of the receipt but I was saving it just in case.”

My manager came over to start me getting out of the register. I had to declare the cash I had in the cash drawer and see how it compared to what the system said I should have. I am usually close to the system and if I am off any it is generally over not under. A lot of people don’t want their change. I can tell they aren’t cashiers they would want every dime they can get their hands on.  

After I got out of my register, I put the money I had “picked up” in the plastic bag we use before money is gathered for deposit. A pick up is the money we take out of our day’s operation minus what we keep in the drawer for change. The drawer is then kept in the safe until put back in use the next morning. I handed the bag I collected my “register pickup money” in, to my manager and asked him if he noticed what my last customer bought from the store. I showed him the receipt and he just said we had no laws against buying any of those items. I didn’t mention the traces of blood since it didn’t seem she was taking anything very serious anyway.

I had a strong tug on me to go by the address I had written off of the ID John McKinley had presented to me. I fought the impulse and decided to go to my apartment and check on my son first and maybe change into some darker clothes before going out stalking. 

When I went into my apartment Lincoln was in bed asleep. Jill had fed him and put him to bed. We had been roommates for about seven months and she had been wonderful, helping me with Lincoln. She had helped to get him in bed ever since I started working as a cashier.

I told her I wanted to show her something so I could get another opinion. 

I said, “A man came into the store today and bought some things that made me suspicious.”

Jill said, “Like women’s underwear or something.”

I replied, “No, that happens all the time.”

Jill asked, “What did he buy?”

I answered, “Duct tape, zip ties, plastic bags, gloves, bleach, hacksaw and a utility knife.” 

Jill exclaimed, “Oh my god that is creepy.”

I said, “That was exactly what I thought. In addition to that he had sweat beading up on his forehead and his palms were sweaty. He also had some traces of blood under his fingernails.”

Jill replied, “I bet you couldn’t wait for him to leave.”

I responded, “He was creepy and I was glad to see him go but I had to check his ID for some beer he bought and I wrote down his name and address.”

Jill asked, “Did he look so young that he needed an ID?”

I said, “No but we are supposed to ask if they look under forty and I wanted to see his identification. I just know we are going to hear about a murder someday that he is involved with.”

I needed to eat something so I made a can of soup before announcing to Jill that I was going to drive by the address I had written down. I ate the soup with a few crackers and then left for my reconnaissance mission. Before leaving I changed into black sweats and a black hoodie with the hood pulled up. Thankfully my suspect didn’t know what kind of car I drove. At least I didn’t think he did.

I found the address with my GPS and slowly cruised by. The suspect was evidently inside the house which was understandable since it was eleven thirty at night. I pulled over and parked across the street and turned out my car lights. I left all the lights off inside as well so as not to be noticed. I took photos with my phone at different angles figuring I could look at them later. 

I needed to come back in the daylight so everything is lit up. Surely Mr. McKinley had a job to go to and my shift didn’t start till four in the afternoon. I would have plenty of time to go over and check out the property in the light of day, later on. It was a nice house in a nice neighborhood. It looked better than any typical middle class home I had seen. 

I zoomed in on one of the windows that had a light on. I could see my suspect in that room packing some kind of suitcase. I could see his face and I recognized him immediately. It was the same guy without a doubt. He had several of the plastic trash bags he had purchased from the store and was putting women’s clothes in each one. I could see him putting a purse in another bag with a tray full of makeup dumped on top.

I knew whoever the makeup belonged to, wouldn’t just leave to go anywhere and leave her purse and makeup behind. I had the guy’s info, I could just do some searches and see if anything came up. The more information I could get the easier it would be for me to figure out what was going on. I couldn’t wait to tell Jill what I had discovered at the house.

He kept going over to a room off of the living room and going inside. He kept that room locked and I watched him unlock the door several times before going in and each time he locked it back after coming out. I never saw a room on the inside of a house with a lock on the outside of the door. It was clearly for the purpose of locking someone or I suppose something inside the room. 

I had completed everything I could do in the dark, at least until I had additional information to help me to form my theories. I drove back to the apartment and noted Jill had already changed into pajamas. I was tired too and went in to change out of my surveillance clothes. 

I handed my phone to Jill and pointed out the women’s clothes being packed into plastic bags. None of the bags looked bloody or looked like they contained body parts of any kind. Where was the body? I knew there had to be one. I knew things I saw pointed to that conclusion. I didn’t know whether to keep investigating on my own or take the information to the police. 

After some thought I knew the police would need a lot of evidence before they would do anything, so I decided I would investigate on my own. I didn’t have any legal requirements that held me back from what I needed to look for. 

I could hear the gasps coming from Jill and an occasional “oh my God”, while she thumbed through the photos saved on my phone. She could make out the women’s clothes, makeup and purse being shoved into the plastic bags. I told Jill about the room he kept going in and locking it when he came back out. The only reason he would have to lock that door would be to keep someone captive.

She handed the phone back to me and said, “What are you going to do next?”

I answered, “Long term I am going to do more investigation, but for right now I am going to bed. Good night.”

Jill replied, “Goodnight.”

We both went to our rooms after turning out the lights and TV in the living room. I couldn’t fall asleep right away even after taking a sleep aid before going to bed. I just lay there in my bed with visions of murder and kidnapping running through my thoughts. I couldn’t understand why my suspect kept going to the room he kept locked up. 

I kept running scenarios through my mind for some kind of answer. Why would he need to keep the room locked if she was dead? Why would he need the bleach and rubber gloves if she wasn’t? Nothing quite made sense at this point which was why I decided more investigation would be needed. 

How would I be able to get a look inside that apartment without him knowing I was there? I enlarged the images of the photos I took. I had the images all displayed on my computer screen. Maybe I should print them out and make a folder of the evidence I had collected. 

Even with all of the questions and images running through my head, I was finally able to fall asleep. It wasn’t a restful sleep because I kept waking up from dreams I had about Mr. McKinley. I would never forget the sweat covered forehead I saw on him when I checked his ID. Maybe he didn’t want me to have his information. 

Somehow I finally drifted off and the questions plaguing me dissipated into the darkness allowing me to sleep. It was the rest I needed because investigative work is tiring enough without a job to go to, in addition to it. I was plagued with dreams throughout the night. In one dream I had, I was even the captive myself and John kept coming into the room bringing me food while keeping me tied up to the headboard of the bed I was sitting on.

I was struggling hard to break free from the ties that bound me in that room but no matter how much I struggled I couldn’t break free. I was panicking and the pounding of my heart through those struggles woke me up to reveal it was just a dream. 

The revelation that it was only a dream I was experiencing gave me great relief and allowed me to trail off back to sleep. I was able to sleep easier but I knew very well I would have to investigate just to satisfy my own curiosity. I couldn’t just leave it alone, I had to have answers. 

They say curiosity killed the cat and I should have heeded that warning. I didn’t know at that time where my curiosity would take me and how it would turn my life upside down. My life would from this moment forward be changed forever.