A deep groan, followed by a scuffle of some sort, had Freya opening her eyes.
The man was on his stomach while the sheriff cuffed him and read him his Miranda rights. A growing puddle of blood pooled beneath the man’s right shoulder. Two deputies stood sentry, while Janie and Claire were huddled together a few feet away.
After a few moments, a pair of EMTs rushed in.
Freya didn’t move. Not a single muscle twitched while she watched from her hiding place as the man was moved onto a stretcher and recuffed. The EMTs worked on his injuries despite the guy cursing everyone around him. He carried on about “suing you motherfuckers” the entire time.
Eventually—she’d lost all concept of time—the EMTs hauled him away. The sheriff followed closely behind, but the two deputies remained.
“Everyone can come out now,” the older of the two deputies said, but she remained tucked under her workstation, her heart still beating wildly.
“Is anyone hurt?” the younger deputy asked. “More EMTs are on the way, so if you’re injured, please gather over here.” He gestured to the sofa in their waiting area.
“We’ll also need to get everyone’s statements, so please don’t leave.” The older deputy crouched beside Janie and Claire and lowered his voice. “Ladies, are you both okay?”
Soft murmurs overtook the room as Freya’s salon and spa colleagues, along with their clients, rose from where they’d taken cover. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and willed her body to stop trembling.
As fast as the madness had started, it was thankfully over.
“Miss Hansen?”
Freya startled, and her attention swung to the deputy in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. With her shaking, now-bandaged hands, she raked her long dark hair away from her face and recrossed her arms over her chest. Leaning against the waiting area’s sofa, she cleared her throat. “What was your question again?”
Deputy Chase, the younger of the two deputies, gave her an understanding smile. “Can you tell me what happened before the suspect arrived? What your day looked like leading up to the incident?”
She nodded and took a deep breath, hoping it would steady her nerves.
It didn’t.
Surveying the destruction around her, she frowned. The salon area of the Pacific View Resort’s world-renowned spa was in utter disarray. Two of the four stylist chairs were toppled over, and the mirrors at all four stations were shattered.
Deputy Chase cleared his throat, and her gaze swung back to him.
Theincident. Right.
Exhaling another shaky breath, she willed herself to focus. “It was just like any other day, really. I arrived at eight thirty, and my first client was scheduled for nine. I had three back-to-back haircuts and styles that went until eleven thirty. I took a half-hour lunch break and had a color scheduled for noon that finished up just after two. Then I had another break until four o’clock. That was Janie’s appointment...”
Freya’s gaze caught on her stylist chair across the room. It was still lying on its side with a single bullet hole splitting the seatback’s dark-brown leather.
“And once she arrived, Miss Hansen?” Deputy Chase prodded.
She tore her eyes from her workstation and looked to where Janie and Claire were speaking with the sheriff at the opposite end of the room.
“You don’t need to call me Miss Hansen. Freya is fine,” she murmured and brought her attention back to Deputy Chase, her mind scrambling to keep up with the conversation. Her concentration was absolute shit, and it took a moment for her to recall her prior train of thought. “Um, Janie showed up with her sister, Claire. Janie wanted to get a dramatic cut, and Claire was scheduled for a blowout with my colleague, Hazel.” She gestured to the spa’s check-in desk where her friend was giving her statement to Deputy Garwood. “Basically, Claire was here as Janie’s moral support.”
Deputy Chase’s brow furrowed. “Moral support?”
Despite the chaos and terror of the past hour, a small smile tugged at the corner of Freya’s lips. “Janie had hair down to her waist, and she wanted me to give her a pixie cut. Even though it was something she really wanted, she was still nervous to have that much taken off.” At the deputy’s blank stare, she asked, “Do you know what a pixie cut is?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”
She gestured to the mid-fade textured crop of his bright-red hair. “In essence, it’s a feminine version of your haircut, but a bit longer on the sides.” She glanced over at Janie again. She’d only been able to cut the woman’s hair chin length before her estranged husband had charged into the salon.
Deputy Chase’s eyebrows rose in obvious surprise. “That’s quite the change. I can understand what you mean by her being nervous.”
Freya nodded as sadness swarmed over her. Knowing what she did now, knowingwhyJanie wanted the shorter cut, her stomach turned.
