She opened her mouth to continue but hesitated, unsure if it was her place to say anything. But a glance at Janie’s swollen cheek—hell, even the throb of her own ribs when she took a deep breath and the lingering headache six Tylenol couldn’t ease—reminded her of that awful man. Of his hate and rage. Of the terror on Janie’s face as he’d attacked her.
Whether it was Freya’s place to say anything or not, she wanted that asshole to pay for what he’d done.
Blowing out a breath, she sent a silent plea out to the universe to forgive her if she was betraying any confidences. “Janie and Claire are at the resort for a girls’ week of sorts, but not the usual mimosas-and-yoga kind.” She dropped her voice. “As you probably already know, the guy who did all this”—she waved her hand at the destroyed salon area—“is Janie’sestranged husband. She left him two and a half weeks ago, got a restraining order against him, split town, and hasn’t had contact with him since.”
“Is she a regular client of yours?” When Freya shook her head, Deputy Chase’s eyebrow arched. “So you know all this because...”
Freya shrugged. “Because I’m a hairstylist. That chair?” She gestured in the direction of her destroyed workstation. “It’s like a therapist’s couch. When she got here, we chatted for a little bit about what kind of style she wanted, and why it was so important to her.”
It had hurt Freya’s heart to see the pain on Janie’s face, to hear what she was sure was a very watered-down version of what the woman had endured. But Freya also saw Janie’s strength and resolve, especially with Claire’s unwavering support.
“She shared her journey with me while I cut her hair,” Freya said and nodded to the woman across the room. “We only got it to chin length before... I’m sorry, I don’t know what her estranged husband’s name is. They only referred to him as POS.”
The corners of Deputy Chase’s lips kicked up. “It fits.”
“No kidding,” she muttered, blowing out a breath. “But we only got that far before he stormed in here.”
They spoke for a few more minutes about how the man had thrown Freya to the ground, and how when she’d tried to assist Janie, he’d headbutted her. She explained how she’d taken cover when he’d started shooting.
“Thank you, Freya. If you think of anything else, please feel free to call me or anyone at the sheriff’s department.” Deputy Chase handed her his card and inclined his head toward the two remaining EMTs who were treating a couple of spa clients for what looked like scratches and cuts. “Make sure you get your head and ribs checked out before you leave.”
The pain along her side had dulled to a throb that matched the one in her head. “I will, thank you.”
He turned away, paused, and faced her again. He lowered his voice, concern evident on his face. “Freya, why did she want that shorter haircut?”
She could see in his eyes that he already knew the answer. But if he wanted her to say it out loud, so be it. “Because she was done getting dragged around by her hair.”
His jaw clenched, and he gave her a brief nod before heading toward Freya’s spa manager, Miriam. Letting out a breath, Freya crossed the room to Janie and Claire and waited as they finished up with Sheriff O’Conner.
“Are you both okay?” she asked when the sheriff stepped away.
Janie nodded, her eyes welling with tears. “Freya, I’m so sorry.”
Freya was shaking her head before the woman finished speaking. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.” She stepped closer and took the other woman’s hands in hers. “Did you need to get checked out by the EMTs?”
Janie shook her head and let out a small chuckle that held no humor. “This”—she waved at the bruise forming along her jaw—“is nothing.”
Emotion squeezed Freya’s chest tightly. “Is it okay if I hug you?”
Janie nodded, tears spilling down her face.
Careful not to squeeze too hard, for both Janie’s sake and her own, Freya wrapped her arms around the other woman. “I’m so thankful you’re okay.”
“I’m so sorry,” Janie repeated, pulling away.
“Nope,” Freya said, retaking Janie’s hands. “There’snothingto be sorry about. You didn’t do this.Hedid. It’s all on him.” She gave the woman a reassuring smile, hoping to inject a little bit ofcalm, a little bit of comfort. “I know this place is a disaster, but what do you say I grab some scissors and finish your cut?”
Janie’s eyes brightened, and she swiped away a few stray tears. “Really?”
“Hell yeah.”
“But what about your hands?”
Freya glanced down at her bandaged hands and stretched her fingers. “The EMTs cleaned them up, and they’re fine. Really.” The pain meds had eased the soreness in her hands, unlike with the low-grade headache that continued to throb. “Besides, not only is that bob horribly uneven, but I think the pixie cut you’re thinking of will be a wonderful fresh start. And that fresh start begins today. You up for it?”
“Thank you,” Janie said, releasing Freya’s hands to wipe away more tears. “Thank you so much.”
“Give me a few minutes to talk to my manager about finding a room for us to use.” She met Claire’s gaze. “Do you want me to check with Hazel about finishing your blowout too?”
