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My name is Rachel, and for about three years I worked graveyard shift as a cocktail waitress

at a casino just off the Las Vegas strip.

I'm not going to name the casino because some of the people involved still work there,

but if you've ever been to Vegas, you've probably walked through places like it.

It wasn't one of the giant luxury resorts everyone posts on social media.

It was older, a little worn down, and mostly catered to locals and tourists looking for cheaper tables and drinks.

The graveyard shift started at 11 at night and ended at 7 in the morning.

People always imagine Vegas shutting down at some point, but it really doesn't.

At 3 in the morning, there are still people gambling.

At 4 in the morning, there are people drinking.

At 5 in the morning, there are people who have completely lost track of what day it is.

The casino floor was bright and loud 24 hours a day. The employee

areas were the opposite. Behind the walls, away from the gaming floor, everything was quiet,

long hallways, concrete floors, storage rooms, employee bathrooms, security offices. After a while you learn every shortcut in the building.

That's what makes this story so unsettling. It happened in a place I knew extremely well.

The first time I saw him, I didn't think much of it. I was walking toward the employee

...