“And you decided you wanted to solve them?” Hazel asked. For a second, it was easy to forget the absurdity of where we were, and I faded into her question. I thought I caught a flicker of genuine interest beneath it, something more than just politeness.
“I was pretty active in some local online forums. I got talking to a few other users regularly. Honestly, we never thought we’d actually find something that could lead to a real-life arrest or anything like that.”
“But you did, right?” Hazel confirmed.
My chest puffed out. Did she seem impressed?
“We did, yeah. We found the camera footage that cracked open a lead suspect’s alibi. We sent it to the police, and they were able to make the arrest from there.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.”
“It felt good,” I admitted, prouder of that accomplishment than anything else I’d done.
“And you stay in touch with those people? The ones you solved it with.”
I nodded. “They’re my friends. We actually…we have a blog together.”
Hazel’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? That’s so cool. What’s it called? I want to read it.” She was already pulling out her phone, poised to search. I was so used to cringing away when I shared that fact, but she wasn’t making fun of me at all. Shewas a sweet girl. Maybe a bit of a hot mess, but warm and friendly, and unafraid to be herself. I decided I liked her. Maybe we could even be friends.
That theory was about to be tested.
A car pulled into the lot and Hazel sat straight up. “That’s him. That’s Clinton.”
The car came to a stop in an empty space in front of the white building and a middle-aged man with long blond hair got out and slammed the door shut. He was a small guy and very…well-groomed looking. Nothing about his all-white, perfectly pressed outfit read as seedy catnapper to me.
“You should send a text to that number,” I said. “We can see if he checks his phone…”
Before I could even finish my sentence, Hazel threw her shoulder into her door and pushed it open.
“What are you doing?!” I whisper-yelled, my heart already pounding in my throat.
But it was too late. Hazel was already outside the car and barreling toward Clinton with a fire in her eyes.
SIX
Hazel
“Clinton!”I shouted. His stupid smug face came into focus as I stalked toward him. It was like the sight of him had possessed me. Some alien entity had taken over my body, recklessly propelling me straight toward this man.
In the back of my brain, my processors vaguely alerted me that Reid was calling my name urgently from the car, but I couldn’t be stopped. Every emotion that had been brewing within me—frustration, grief, anger, despair, you name it—had finally erupted to the surface. I needed to let it out on someone.
Now.
Clinton jerked his gaze toward me and squinted for a moment, as if trying to place me. Recognition flared in his eyes seconds before his mouth twisted into a scowl.
“I told you to stay the hell away from my salon,” he yelled, in that semi-composed, throaty way people did when they didn’t want to cause a scene.
“What are you doing?” Reid hissed. He had crossed the distance quickly and was now directly at my back.
“I had every right to post that video and you know it,” I said, stopping only when I was a foot in front of my formerboss. “You’re a shit boss and you’ve built your empire on the backs of stylists you’ve taken advantage of.”
Clinton barked out a bitter laugh and tossed his head back. “You are so fucking dramatic. Jesus, Hazel. Grow up. It’s called business for a reason. Everything I did was above board, and part of a very clear contract thatyousigned.”
My hands shook and tears of frustration pooled in the corners of my eyes. “Did you take him?” I asked.
“Hazel! Let’s get out of here.” Reid tugged on my arm, but my feet stayed planted, refusing to budge.
A puzzled look twisted across Clinton’s face. “What? Take who?”
