Renegade's Pride. B.J. Daniels
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looked surprised. “Seriously? I was picking locks before I was ten.” Sometimes she forgot the kind of family Trask had come from. His father had been a trick roper, traveling all over the country with a carnival. Trask’s mother had taken off when he was a boy. He’d had a stepmother of sorts for a short while, just long enough for him to think his life was going to settle down, before she took off with her son, Emery, from another relationship.
Trask had been raising himself most of his life. But after the so-called stepmother had left, Trask, then fifteen, had started getting into trouble. Nothing big, just enough trouble that the local law knew him well and would come looking for him when something happened—like the murder of Trask’s boss after there’d been an altercation that had been witnessed.
Lillie followed him at a safe distance to lock the door behind him. Not that it would do any good if he decided to come back. She’d have to get better locks if she hoped to keep him out. Too bad there wasn’t a lock for her heart.
She felt a chill and realized she was still wearing his old worn T-shirt. She raced back up the stairs, shivering. She could still smell his male scent mixed with the night air and the cloying scent of her perfume. It made the ache deep within her hurt even worse.
Stripping off Trask’s old T-shirt, she threw it in the hamper and dug in the bottom of her dresser for the brand-new flannel nightgown some aunt had given her for a college graduation present. Pulling it on, she stepped to the window, opened it and let the cold breeze cool the heat that had her cheeks flushed, her body damp with perspiration.
She heard the sound of a truck engine start in the distance. Would he head for town? She listened until the sound died off in the distance, relieved when the truck headed for the mountains. At least he was smart enough to hide out. But then what?
Her mind reeling, she closed the window and climbed into bed, even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep tonight.
* * *
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Maggie Thompson picked up her scissors and cut one-hundredth of an inch off the hank of hair spread between her fingers, her mind on her date tonight with the sheriff instead of this morning’s long list of difficult clients.
She felt a bubble of excitement rise in her at the thought of tonight. Her relationship with Flint—she could think of it as that now—was about to go to the next level. They’d taken it slow, since both of them were leery after their former bad experiences. But they seemed to click. It was time to see where this was going.
“Not too short,” Mrs. Appleby warned. “You know Herbert complains if it’s too short.”
“Yes, Sandra. I’m just trimming off a tiniest bit just to shape it up.” They’d had this conversation so many times that Maggie could have recited it from memory.
Sandra Appleby touched her thinning gray locks and considered her profile in the mirror. “Did you hear about Jenna Holloway?”
Beauty shops were a hotbed of gossip. Maggie didn’t encourage it, but she also knew that her clients came here to relax and catch up on who was pregnant, who was getting a divorce, who had gone into the nursing home and who was seeing whom since their last visit.
Some clients thrived on being the first to know what was happening in town—and spreading it. It was the nature of a beauty shop in a small town. Maggie did her best to keep out of it. She didn’t want to hear in town that she’d said something she hadn’t. So she kept quiet as she finished the haircut.
“I heard she’s missing,” Sandra said. “How could she be missing?”
Maggie had no idea and said as much. Sandra was one of those who loved to be the first with the town news. It helped that she had a niece who worked as a dispatcher at the sheriff’s office.
“I thought the sheriff would have told you,” Sandra said, eyeing her in the mirror. “You two are still seeing each other, right?”
“I don’t tell him about my clients and he doesn’t tell me about his cases,” she said.
“Well, I suppose that’s for the best given some of your clients.” Sandra chuckled at her joke. “Still, you can’t help but wonder if Anvil did something to her.”
In the second chair, Irma Tinsley piped up. “He kept her on a short leash, that’s for sure. Maybe she just got tired of it.”
“She was so sweet and shy,” Daisy Caulfield said as she combed out Irma’s short do. Maggie had hired Daisy after she’d come out of beauty school looking for a job. She was young and full of life and was darned good at her job.
“I did her hair not all that long ago,” Daisy was saying thoughtfully. “I remember because she didn’t have an appointment. Just walked in and said she wanted something different.” Daisy’s eyes widened in alarm as she met Maggie’s in the mirror. “Maybe the haircut was the start of something.”
Maggie laughed and brushed it off, though it was strange that Jenna of all people would just show up without an appointment. “We hope all our haircuts are the start of something for our clients.”
“I’d like to start up something,” Irma said with a laugh. A small dark-haired woman in her late fifties with a great sense of humor, Irma had been widowed now for five years.
“There is always Merrill Forster,” Sandra said, tongue in cheek.
Irma laughed gaily. Merrill was the over-fifty bachelor who apparently read the obits regularly because he turned up at each new widow’s door like clockwork.
“I already gave Merrill a whirl,” Irma said, making Sandra gasp.
“She’s joking,” Maggie assured her client.
Sandra looked disappointed. “I’ve heard stories about Merrill. I was hoping you could verify them.”
Everyone laughed but quickly stifled it as the sheriff pushed open the door. Flint stood for a moment just inside the door. He looked afraid to come into this female domain.
“I was just leaving,” Irma said as Daisy finished with her. “You can have my chair. Looks like you could use a trim.”
Maggie smiled at him. “I believe he prefers Tim’s Barbershop down the street.”
“That’s where Herbert goes,” Sandra said. “You think they don’t gossip like old women down there? Ha!”
“I’m almost finished,” Maggie said, running a brush through Sandra’s thinning hair. “What do you think?”
Sandra studied herself in the mirror. “It makes me look younger, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would,” Maggie agreed.
“Definitely,” Daisy agreed and thanked Irma for the tip she gave her.
Flint held the door open for Irma and waited as Sandra settled up and left, as well. “Can you sneak away for lunch?” he asked Maggie.
“Sorry, not today. I have a highlight coming in.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Actually, Angie should be here.” Angie North was running late. That surprised Maggie. Angie was always early. She loved to come in and visit with whoever was getting their hair done before her appointment.
Maggie always got the impression that Angie had too much time on her hands. Either that or she was just glad to escape the house for a while. Not that her husband, Bob, didn’t call at least once while she was in the chair to see when she’d be home.
“I’m going to run over to the drugstore for a milk shake,” Daisy announced. “Can I get you something?”
Both Maggie and the sheriff declined.
“Smart girl,” Flint said.
“She can take a hint.” She smiled at the man she’d been dating for several months now. It still seemed too good to be true. Sometimes she had to pinch herself.