Chapter 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

The hum of hairdryers filled the air, blending with the soft chatter of clients. It was all perfectly normal, yet Brynlee couldn’t shake the sense of unease that settled over her.

Her mind kept drifting back to the night at the bar. She could see the woman’s face so clearly in her mind—the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the way her lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was all so vivid, yet Brynlee couldn’t place where she’d seen her before.

Mind drifting, she began her nightly routine of cleaning up while the stylists wrapped up their appointments and the clients filtered out one at a time, until only Jane remained at her station.

Brynlee straightened the stack of appointment cards, then glanced down at the appointment book. As she flipped through the pages, checking upcoming appointments, a sudden flash of memory struck her. A woman’s face, so clear in her mind, seemed to overlay the name from last week—Elisa Turner.

Her breath caught in her throat. Jane’s client, the one with the auburn hair and the bubbly smile—it had to be her. But her hair had been different that night at the bar, darker, and styled in loose waves. Still, the face was so similar it was uncanny.

Brynlee’s heart pounded as she tried to remember every detail. She had thought nothing of the client at the time, just another appointment in a busy week. But now, with the memory of the bar superimposed on her thoughts, she felt a chill crawl up her spine.

Could it really be the same woman?

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the appointment book as she flipped back to the previous week and stared at the name. It wasn’t unusual for clients to change their look, to experiment with different hair colors and styles. But the thought that this woman, Elisa Turner, might be connected to what happened that night sent goosebumps sprouting over her skin.

Why had Elisa come to the salon? Had she known who Brynlee was, or was it just a coincidence? And if it wasn’t, what did that mean?

She looked around the salon, her gaze landing on Jane, who was laughing with her client as she worked. Everything seemed so ordinary, but Brynlee couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

She needed to tell someone—Sawyer, maybe. But even as she thought of him, she felt a pang of uncertainty. He had been so protective lately, so worried about her. She didn’t want to add to his stress, not when he was already so consumed with his cases.

But if Elisa Turner was the woman from the bar, then Brynlee had to find out why she had been targeted. And if she was wrong, then at least she would know.

She reached for the phone and dialed the number listed. It rang twice before a robotic voice informed her that the number was disconnected. A chill swept down Brynlee’s spine, and she felt the blood drain from her face. She lowered the phone slowly, her mind racing. It was as if the woman had vanished into thin air.

The moment Jane finished with her client, Brynlee waved her over. "Jane, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Jane locked the front door, then made her way to the front desk. "Sure, what’s up?"

“Do you remember a client we had last week? Her name was Elisa—or at least that’s what she went by. She had auburn hair, shoulder-length, came in for a trim and color."

Jane tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "Elisa… Yeah, I remember her. Really sweet. Why do you ask?"

Brynlee’s heart pounded as she recounted the events of that night at the bar, how she’d been drugged, and how she now suspected that Elisa, or Elisa Turner, might be the same woman who had slipped something into her drink. “She used the bathroom right before she left that night—the same weekend it flooded.”

As she spoke, Jane’s expression shifted from confusion to concern. “You think she’s responsible?”

Brynlee lifted her hands in supplication. "I can’t be sure, but their faces… they’re just so similar. The hair was different, but everything else matches."

Jane crossed her arms, her brow furrowing with worry. "That’s creepy, Bryn. Did she say anything weird when she was here? Act suspicious?"

Brynlee shook her head, frustration gnawing at her. "No, nothing. That’s what’s so unsettling. She was just… normal. But now I can’t shake this feeling that something’s off."

“You should talk to the police,” Jane suggested.

Brynlee nodded. “I will. Let’s head out.”

Together, they finished their tasks, locking up the salon for the night. Brynlee’s hands shook as she went through the motions, her mind focused on one thing—getting out of there and telling Sawyer everything. Just as she was about to lock the door, she realized she had forgotten something.

"Damn it," she muttered, turning to Jane. "I forgot to check the laundry. You go on ahead, I’ll just be a minute."

Jane hesitated, glancing back at the salon. "Are you sure? I can wait."

Brynlee shook her head, forcing a smile. "I’m fine. It’s just towels. I’ll be quick."

Reluctantly, Jane nodded and headed to her car. Brynlee watched her leave before turning back to the salon. The familiar space felt different now, shadows stretching longer, corners darker. She hurried inside, moving quickly to gather the towels from the laundry room. Her fingers fumbled as she stacked them, her senses on high alert.

With the towels in hand, she made her way back outside, the silence of the salon pressing down on her. She locked up, double-checking the door before turning to leave.

A sudden prickle of unease crawled up her neck. She needed to get home, to talk to Sawyer. Distracted, she didn’t immediately hear the soft crunch of gravel behind her.

She turned to glance over her shoulder but a huge hand fisted in her hair, then yanked her backward. A soft cry ripped from her throat, but it was quickly extinguished when a brawny arm wrapped around her neck, constricting her air supply.

She fought against her assailant’s hold, kicking at his legs and scratching at his arms and face. Her vision began to dim and her lungs burned from the exertion. The man uttered a muffled curse behind her, and something hard pressed into the nerve that ran along my neck. Her muscles spasmed and her legs gave out as everything around her disappeared into a fog of nothingness.