Within moments, she stood, dropping 2 one-dollar bills beside the plate, taking a sip of the pink drink in front of her and walking from the restaurant, her nose buried in her phone.
Just like she’d appeared in my life, in a flash, she was gone.
Chapter Ten
I’d left my apartment early the next morning, already positioned in front of the woman’s house when she walked from its doors. I was becoming obsessed with her, but I couldn’t stop. After Ben had gone to bed, I’d spent most of the night staring at her pictures, reading her captions, trying to picture her voice.
Over and over the question rang out in my head: why are you better than me?
This time, she was dressed like she was when I’d first seen her, in a tiny tank top and shorts. This time, though, instead of heading toward Oceanside, she drove toward downtown Crestview. The small, rundown town square boasted very few businesses, but she pulled up in front of a small beauty shop, and climbed from her car.
I slowed to a stop in the parking lot across from her, watching to see what was going to happen. The windows were tinted, but I could see her frame as she flitted across the room, taking a seat beside a woman already waiting. She didn’t speak to anyone, from what I could see, so I assumed they must know her there.
The shop, Sassy Snips, was small and white, with large, pink letters painted on the front windows. There was a painted picture of a pair of scissors beside the name. I dialed the number printed on the door and waited.
“Sassy Snips, this is Carolyn.” A loud, friendly voice answered the phone with laughter in her tone. Almost as if I’d caught her midway through a joke.
I cleared my throat. “Hi, um, I was wondering if you require appointments or if you take walk-ins.”
“Oh, no, hun. We take walk-ins.”
“Oh, excellent. Thank you.” I pressed the button, ending the call without saying goodbye, and stepped out of the car. When I walked into the building, I smelled bleach, masked by a floral shampoo. It was quaint and simple, concrete floors and large, bright can lights in the ceiling. There were three seats along each exterior wall and six shampoo stations in the center, back to back.
“Hi, hun, can I help you?” A blonde woman looked up from an elderly man’s haircut, scissors held at the ready.
“I…I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to get a trim.” I twisted a piece of my auburn hair around my fingers.
“Were you the one who just called?”
I nodded.
“You got here fast, sweetie.” She laughed. “We can definitely fit you in. If you’ll just sign in down there.” She gestured toward a clipboard on the edge of a small desk. “I’ll get you going right after this.”
“Thank you,” I said, walking to the desk. Katie was against the back wall, her hair clipped at odd angles as the plump brunette stood behind her, stirring her hair dye in a small, black bowl. “You know, actually, would you have time for some highlights?” I looked back at the woman—Carolyn, I guessed.
She squinted her eyes, glancing at the clock, then leaned her head to the side and yelled across the room. “What do you think, Tosh? Do you have time for highlights? What time’s your next appointment?”
The brunette—Tosh—glanced at the clock, turning around to look at me. “Sure. As long as you don’t mind that I rotate between you and Kat?” I shook my head. I didn’t mind a bit. She jutted her head toward the chair, willing me to take a seat, but I wasn’t looking. Instead, my eyes were locked on the woman in the chair. Katie…or, well, Kat. Her small, brown eyes were locked with mine in the reflection, her mouth tight with apparent displeasure. Obviously she wasn’t in the mood to share hairdressers.
It was fine. I wasn’t in the mood to share husbands.
I offered a small smile before making my way across the room and taking a seat in the salon chair directly beside Kat.
Tosh smiled at me. “I’m Toshia. Have you ever been here before?”
“Palmer,” I told her, reaching out to shake her gloved hand. “And no. I haven’t.”
“New in town?”
“No, just…just in town for work,” I said quickly.
Toshia didn’t look convinced. She turned her attention back to start on Kat’s hair, painting some of the bleach on her dark roots and wrapping them in foil.
“We don’t get many people here for work, but I’m glad you stopped in. What are we going to do for you, Palmer?”
“I was thinking maybe just a few highlights. I…wanted a change.” Kat was still staring at me, her eyes drilling holes in me through the reflection. Did she recognize me? Was she thinking I looked familiar? Had she stalked Ben’s social media and seen his pictures of me? Heard my name? “I love that color,” I told her.
“Thanks,” Kat said softly, bobbing her head. She seemed to be a strange mix of annoyed and paralyzed by fear, and I couldn’t deny that I felt the same, with just a dash of determination.
“Are you both…from here?” I asked.
Toshia nodded, with a quick laugh under her breath. “Born and raised. I’ve been doing Kat’s hair since she was a baby.”
“How nice.”
“Where are you from, Palmer?” Kat asked, one brow raised slightly.
“I live in Oceanside.”
“The big city, hm?” Toshia asked. “My husband and I love Oceanside. Do you know Sarah Allen? She’s from there.”
“No…I don’t think I do.” I played with my nails as Toshia continued to paint the highlights onto Kat’s hair. It was mesmerizing, watching the white paste be smoothed over the dark roots. I tried to focus on that when it got to be too hard focusing on Kat’s denial-filled gaze.
“I guess it’s different there, hm? Everyone here knows everyone. Isn’t that right, Kat?”
Kat nodded, glancing down at her phone. “Just about.”
“What do you do, Kat?” I asked, trying to draw her attention back to me.
She shrugged a shoulder, not looking back up. “Nothing. My husband works.”
Toshia blew air from her lips, popping her hip. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Kat. Kat here’s a successful food and travel blogger. They actually pay her to go on vacation. Can you believe that?”
Kat placed her phone in her lap and met Toshia’s gaze, still avoiding mine at whatever cost. “Well, no one pays me to go on vacation. It’s actually more of a free vacation for exposure on my blog. And…ads are where my income comes from. That’s what I get paid for.”
Toshia rolled her eyes. “Logistics. The point is…this girl’s living the dream.”
And trying to steal mine. “That sounds amazing. And you said you’re married? What does your husband do?”
“He works on the railroad,” came her clipped answer as she looked down.
Surprisingly, we had a connection there. “My uncle worked on the railroad. It’s a hard job, but he loved it.”
“He’s away a lot,” Toshia said. “He’s on a job up in Canada right now. Next month could be Arizona or Illinois. He’s always traveling. I worry about Kat all on her own, but the woman’s fearless. Independent. She takes care of herself.”
Fearless enough to steal my husband. Independent enough to cheat on hers. She takes care of herself by being selfish.
“What about you?” Kat asked, meeting my eye in the mirror again as Toshia unclipped the next layer of her hair. “What do you do…Palmer?” She said my name as though it was strange and foreign, and I couldn’t help wondering again if she knew about me. Perhaps she did know who I was. My heart thudded in my chest as I became fearful I’d made a mistake going there. Following her. What if she managed to tip Ben off? What if they became sneakier with their affair?
“I do interior design and event planning with my best friend. We’re working on opening our own firm. That’s actually why I’m in town today, for work. I had to meet with a client here in Crestview, and he pushed our meeting back by a few hours. I figured rather than going back to the office and having to come back thi
s afternoon, I’d just find something to do here in town.”
“Event planning? Weddings and stuff?” Toshia asked. “My baby cousin’s getting married next year. I’ll have to send her your way.”
“Oh, yeah, I’d love that. We do weddings, corporate parties, anniversaries, birthday parties, and everything in between. Weddings are my favorite.” I beamed at her.
“Are you married?” Toshia asked, and I met Kat’s pitiful gaze in the mirror once more.
“Yes. I am.” I drew my words out, each syllable carrying weight.
“How long? What’s his name?” Toshia asked, bobbing her head side to side, blissfully unaware of the tension between her clients.
“Just six months—” I froze as my phone began vibrating in my pocket. Did I detect a smile on Kat’s lips? “Excuse me, I just have to take this.” I stared at the screen with a sinking feeling. It was Ben. I considered not answering, but I’d never forgive myself if something had happened to Gray.
“Hello?” I asked, stepping away from the seat and out of the building in an instant.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I’m…” There was no point in lying. Not if she’d already told him I was here, which is what I suspected. “I’m in Crestview.”
His voice was shaking. “Crestview? Why?”
“I’m meeting with a client.” Keep your story straight, Palmer. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Someone tried to break into the apartment, Palmer. Someone tried to break through the door. You need to get home.”
His words sent ice through my veins. It was the absolute last thing I expected. “Wait…what?”
“Someone just tried to break into the apartment. I was in the bathroom giving Gray a bath. He’d had a blow out. Next thing I know, I hear someone beating on the door. I yelled ‘Hang on!’ but they just kept banging and banging. Then, it was like I could…I could hear wood splitting. I thought they were going to kill us. I just got so worried about what to do. I had no plan, no weapons…”
“Ben…calm down.” I pulled my keys from my purse, running across the street. “You aren’t making any sense. Why would someone want to break in? Did they get in? Did they break the door?”
“No. No. We’re fine. Everything’s fine, and they’re gone. I wrapped Gray in a towel and ran into the living room, but before I could check who it was, they were gone. They must’ve had a crowbar or something. The wood trim by the lock is broken.”
“It’s the middle of the day. How is that even possible? Why would they try to break in midday?” We lived in a safe area. I’d never heard of any break-ins on our block, let alone in our building.
“I guess they assumed no one was home. I have no idea. Can you just get home please?” His voice was trembling as he spoke, and I could hear Gray crying in the background.
His cries brought me crashing into reality, suddenly terrified for his safety. What if they came back? What if I didn’t make it in time? “Yes, of course. I’m on my way, okay? Oh my God. I just…I can’t believe this. Call the police, Ben. Call the police, okay?”
“I will…just get home, okay? Please,” he begged.
“I will. I’m on my way now.” I ended the call and tossed my phone into the passenger’s seat, trying and failing to get the key into the ignition thanks to my trembling fingers.
For the moment, Kat was forgotten. Nothing in the world mattered as much as getting home to protect my child. I’d do anything to protect him—no matter the enemy.
Chapter Eleven
Thirty minutes later, I arrived at the apartment. The door appeared to be in perfect shape, no damage, no dents. I pushed open the door, surprised to see it wasn’t locked, and walked into my apartment. Gray was asleep in a bassinet in the middle of the room, and Ben was on the phone, leaning against the kitchen island.
I hurried to the bassinet, patting Gray’s tummy gently. He cooed up at me, kicking his feet in the air, blissfully unaware that anything was wrong. Oh, to be that innocent again.
“Yeah, okay. Okay, thanks,” Ben said, keeping his voice soft and low. “Sure thing. Okay. Bye.” He hung up the phone, and I stared at him, unsure of what to say.
“Was that the police?”
“The super,” he said, giving his head a sharp jerk.
“What did he say?”
“He’s ordering a new piece of trim to go around the door.” He pulled open the door and showed me the place where the tan trim had been torn back, splintering in several different directions. It was a small, rather unnoticeable amount of damage, but it was there. “But the deadbolt is still in place. There aren’t any cameras or anything in the hallway, so there’s not really anything he can do. He said we should make sure we have renters insurance and contact a security company.”
“Well, that’s helpful.” I sighed.
“Most likely it was someone planning to break in while we were away, but when they heard me, they ran.”
“Did they get any of the neighbors? What did the police say? Have there been any break-ins in this neighborhood recently? These things aren’t usually random, right?”
He sighed. “Dimitri said calling the police wouldn’t get us far. We wouldn’t even be a priority with just a piece of trim broken. What do you think? Should I call? It doesn’t look like any of the other apartments were bothered.”
My jaw dropped open. “Of course you should call, Ben. They’ll have to do a report. Why haven’t you already called? You should’ve done that first.”
“I called Dimitri first to see about getting a copy of the security tape in case the police needed it, and to let him know it happened. He just said it’s up to us, but that in his experience, it’s best not to bother with the police for something like this.”
“There’s a security camera at the front entrance, right?” I asked, thinking back. This was supposed to be a safe neighborhood. We’d never had any issues before. It was why I’d chosen to live here alone before Ben. I’d always felt safe.
“Yeah, it doesn’t work, apparently. I’ll do whatever you think’s best. I just don’t want the police to think we’re wasting their time when nothing even happened. You know what they say, even filing a report when something was stolen, you’re not likely to get it back. So filing one when nothing was stolen seems silly to me.”
“But they broke our trim, so they obviously wanted in for some reason. What happens next time when no one’s home?”
“I’ll call if you want me to. If it’ll make you feel more comfortable. Do you want me to?”
I chewed my bottom lip. I wanted him to call, yes. I wanted justice. I wanted answers. But, at the same time, I knew he was right. There was likely very little that would be done or even could be done. “Dimitri really wasn’t worried about it?”
He glanced at his phone. “He said he can get some trim, so there’s no reason to file an insurance claim, and with nothing else damaged or missing, the cops won’t take us seriously.”
“Okay.” I paused, unable to deny the worry in my belly. I needed to do the right thing, to keep my child safe. “No, I’m sorry. I hear what you’re saying, but I want you to call. Even if they don’t take us seriously, I want them to have it on record that this happened.”
“Okay,” Ben said, nodding slowly. He picked up his phone. “I’ll call.”
The police made it a top priority and arrived to take our report just over three hours later. Right from the start, I could tell Ben had been right. It was a mistake to call.
The officers who came, Officers Hendricks and Malone, made a big show of examining the door and the torn trim before they entered our apartment, listening to Ben as he went over the day’s events.
“This is an old building, lots of scuffs on the walls. Are you sure the trim was damaged because of this? Sometimes you just don’t notice damage until you really examine it.”
Ben was tight-lipped, already irritated that I’d pushed the call. “It wasn’t damaged before. We would’ve noticed.”
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br /> “Okay, so,” he flipped open a notepad, though he didn't produce a pen, “do you have any reason to be worried that someone might break in? Did you recently make any large purchases, sit boxes on the curb? Do you have any enemies?”
“We haven’t made any large purchases, and our trash goes in the bin around back. It’s a shared dumpster for the whole complex. And, no, to my knowledge, we have no enemies.” He glanced at me for a half-second, irritation emanating from him.
“What about you?” Hendricks asked. “Any enemies? Anything suspicious?”
I shook my head. “This has always been a quiet neighborhood. We’ve never had issues, even with packages being left at our doors. They’ve always been left alone.”
“Are there any new neighbors?” he asked, finally pulling a pen from his pocket. “Anyone who could’ve brought trouble?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” I said. “Ben’s home during the day, though.” I looked at him.
“I haven’t seen anyone new, no. We were lucky to get this place. The building is sought after. Palmer had been on the waiting list for a year before she moved in. Once people get here, they tend to stay.”
He jotted something down in a notebook. “Does your property manager live on site? We’ll want to check with them. I didn’t notice any cameras in the hall… Do they have them?”
He was asking questions as fast as we could answer them, obviously not too concerned about what we were saying. The other officer stood silently around him, his eyes traveling around the room. “Dimitri’s our super. I can give you his number. He lives downstairs. Next to the office. And, no, there aren’t any cameras. The ones outside don’t work.”
“Well, that’s useful.” Hendricks smirked.
“We had no idea until today,” I said.
At the same time Ben said, “We didn’t exactly install them ourselves.”
“Right,” Hendricks said, and I winced as he closed his notebook. He already wasn’t taking us seriously, and my husband’s attitude wasn’t helping. “Well, we can dust for prints, but I have to be honest with you. In a building this size, prints are going to be all over the place, and if the perp just knocked and never touched the door, aside from whatever he may have used to try to pry the door open, he most likely didn’t touch anything. There’s a good chance his prints aren’t here at all.” He nodded to Malone, who immediately got to work. “Do you have a security system installed?”
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