After She's Gone (West Coast 3) - Page 66

“I have a reason.” She yanked the door shut.

“You never gave me a chance to explain.”

Rolling down the window, she said, “Look, Trent. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you. You had plenty of chances and I’m not doing this.”

“Cass—” His voice was low and when he said her name like that it just killed her inside.

“Don’t. Just don’t, okay?” A thunde

rstorm of emotions was threatening her, but she couldn’t deal with them so she pulled herself together and turned on the ignition. As the little car sputtered to life, she added, “I said I’ll be back and I will.”

“I’ll be waiting.” For the briefest of seconds she thought of canceling with Laura and having things out with him, once and for all, but she changed her mind. This was her one chance to catch up with the person who could be Allie’s closest confidante, and she wasn’t going to blow it on rehashing the problems in her marriage with Trent. At least not at the moment. Telling herself she was being a damned fool, she found her new key on her ring, unwound it from the others. “Go inside. I’ll be back in an hour, maybe two.” She handed him the key and didn’t let her fingers linger on his. “If you want coffee, you’ll have to go get a cup at Starbucks or Java Buzz, two blocks south. There’s nothing in my place. Now, I’ve really got to go.”

She didn’t wait for him to argue, just tore out of the lot. A glance into the rearview mirror showed that he was still standing where she’d left him. Long legs shoulder-length apart, jaw rock hard, shaded eyes turned in her direction.

She dragged her gaze away from his all-too-sexy image. That was the trouble with him, he was innately sensual and didn’t seem to know it, that’s why he was so attractive. She let out a sigh. She’d sworn that she was over him, but, obviously, she’d been lying to herself.

CHAPTER 18

At three minutes to nine, Cassie stepped through the doors of Salon Laura.

The spa-like business was located a couple of blocks off Rodeo Drive, tucked into the first floor of a stucco and glass building in the high-rent district. Behind a sleek black counter a big-eyed, too-cool-to-smile receptionist, whose platinum hair was short and carefully mussed, told her what she’d already guessed, that, “No, Miss Merrick isn’t in today, but I see you have an appointment with Verna.”

An appointment she didn’t need.

Cassie wanted to speak to Laura.

“But Laura, er, Miss Merrick is coming in, right? I thought that’s what she said.”

She was offered a bored expression and a single raised skeptical eyebrow. “That’s not what she told me. Or like anyone else here.” Then, with a word to another girl, the receptionist grudgingly guided Cassie through a frosted glass door and down a tiled hallway lit by sconces. Soft Asian-inspired music played from hidden speakers and the scents of lavender and eucalyptus seeped into the hallway from double doors leading to the day spa.

Around a final corner the hallway opened into a brightly lit area designated for hair stylists. Along one wall were individual stations, separated by half walls, each with a chair, sink, mirror, and private closet.

Verna’s space was on the end of a row of eight stylists. “Laura said to take good care of you,” she said as Cassie dropped into the chair and yanked the band out of her hair before shaking it loose.

Tall and thin, with an asymmetrical hairstyle in multiple shades of brown and blond, a nose ring, and a tattoo climbing up one arm, Verna eyed Cassie’s hair. “Just a trim?” Obviously she thought a lot more work was in order. Her eyes met Cassie’s in the mirror and she physically started. “Wait a second, you’re Allie Kramer’s sister, aren’t you? How could I not put two and two together? You really look like your mom.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Hey, I’m sorry . . . really sorry about your sister, I mean.” She shook her head and reached for a comb. “I don’t suppose anyone has any idea . . . ?” She left the sentence unfinished as if she were unsure how much she could ask.

“No,” Cassie said, not wanting to go into it with a virtual stranger. Besides, she was on edge, well, more on edge than usual, especially with Trent in her house. The thought of him hanging out in her apartment without her bothered her and she mentally kicked herself again for handing over her key so readily.

“Bummer.” Verna was already touching Cassie’s hair, pulling it away from her head, testing it as an assistant came by with the offer of drinks, everything from herbal tea to regular coffee and cucumber water.

Cassie declined. She’d just come here for information, but it seemed her idea had been foolish.

“You know, I think some red streaks would be cool,” Verna was saying. “Nothing too noticeable. Maybe a deep burgundy or an auburn with a kick would brighten this up. Be nice on you. Kind of contempo.”

“Just a trim.” Her hair wasn’t the issue.

“Okay,” Verna agreed with a smile as she met Cassie’s gaze in the mirror again. “You’re the boss.”

This was turning out to be a big waste of time. Verna knew nothing. Of course. In the end, Cassie ended up with slightly shorter hair and a lot less cash in her wallet, but she hadn’t found out anything about her sister.

Once again, a dead end, she thought as she found her way out of the building and slid a pair of sunglasses onto her nose. What had she really thought she’d accomplish? She didn’t know the first thing about locating a missing person. She should just leave Allie’s disappearance to the police. Let the professionals handle it.

And who are they considering their number one suspect in her disappearance? You.

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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