by Kym Roberts
“I really need to sign up for one of your classes,” Sugar said as she pulled out the clocks we’d made and laid them across the last bit of open space on the counter in the tearoom. “I love these!”
Sugar and I had started off on a bad note when I’d first come back to Hazel Rock, but now I considered her a friend. At the bar, she dressed sexy. At The Barn, her natural beauty shined with little to no make-up and her winning smile with one crooked tooth that made her real, captured the hearts of everyone. As long as no one brought up her wayward boyfriend, Dean MacAlister. He brought out Sugar’s inner Annie Oakley and everything became a target for whatever she had in her hands at the time.
“Have you heard anything at the bar about Dalton Hibbs’s disappearance?” I asked as I filled out the bid sheet for my Nancy Drew clock.
Sugar’s ponytail bobbed as she spoke and for the first time, I noticed a scar on the back of her neck. It wasn’t large, just about the size of a dime, but it puckered like it’d been from a burn and I wondered how she could have possibly burned herself there. “There’s a wide range of speculation. Some of the cowboys are saying he buckled under the pressure. Others are saying that he’s off with a few of the local women.” Sugar rolled her eyes. “I had a mind to let them wear their beers when they suggested that, but I kept my itchy fingers on my serving tray.”
A smile crossed my dad’s face. He liked Sugar’s spirit. I think she reminded him of my mom.
“What about the locals—what do they think?” I asked.
“They think he’s off grieving over his brother.”
“What’s the story with his brother?”
“Wyatt disappeared seven years ago. But unlike Dalton, Wyatt was always in the thick of things, so when he went missing everyone suspected wrongdoing. Dalton was the first one to start hollering foul play.”
“Did they ever find any evidence of anything?”
My dad hopped into the conversation. “Nope. One day he was here, and the next he was gone. There’s still a reward out for his whereabouts, but no one has seen hide nor hair of the man since.”
“Why was Scarlet brought in for questioning?”
Sugar looked at my dad for the answer. At the time she would have been too young to care much about anything but her own hormones and dating life.
“Scarlet had it bad for Wyatt. And when he disappeared, everyone expected her to know where to find him. But she didn’t. No one did.”
“Was Dalton in town when Wyatt disappeared?” I asked.
Both my father and Sugar nodded, then Sugar added, “Some said he was jealous of his brother’s success, and that if there was any foul play, he was behind it.”
A case of domestic violence sadly wouldn’t be a rare thing, but despite my negative feelings toward Dalton, I suspected he was innocent of anything nefarious that may have happened to Wyatt. I may not like the way the man treated Scarlet, but I certainly didn’t see him as the type to harm his brother just to rise above him in the rankings.
“You should know,” Sugar added, “that several of the reporters were asking where Scarlet was when Dalton disappeared.”
We didn’t have any more time to discuss Dalton or Scarlet after that, as we were too busy opening the doors and starting the bidding for the various sections in the store. The media arrived, including Peter and his sidekick, Aiden, and Aubrey. She was tagging along absorbing everything Liza Twaine told her like a sponge in the middle of a Texas thunderstorm. Not a drop of media mentoring escaped her notice.
About noon Scarlet came in looking a little green around the edges to me. To everyone else she looked like a million bucks with her auburn curls pulled to one side by a jeweled comb at the nape of her neck and her hair hanging down over her shoulder. She had on a conservative navy suit that made her look like she belonged in a courthouse, not a barn. Liza spotted her immediately and sent an uncomfortable-looking Aubrey over to see if Scarlet would give an interview.
Scarlet politely declined and made her way over toward me. “You should have woken me up this morning.”
“I didn’t think you’d be in any shape to make it.”
If it was possible, I think Scarlet turned a darker shade of green. “So it’s true? Mateo had to help me down from the top of the water tower?” There was a hint of hope shining in her eyes.
I dashed it with a slow nod.
“Was I yelling for Dalton?” Again, I could see that silent prayer flashing behind her eyes.
It went unanswered with my second nod.
“Please don’t tell me I held up my mini speaker and let Lonely Girl blare across the rooftops?”
I grimaced, knowing she didn’t want the answer but gave it to her anyway with a nod.
For a moment, her shoulders slouched; then she held her head up high and took on all the speculative looks being thrown in her direction. “I’m really worried about Dalton. Has anyone heard from him yet?” she asked.
I thought that question deserved more than a shake of my head, but I certainly didn’t want to tell her that Dalton had branded my front door and tried to apply permanent makeup on my face. Nor did I want to tell her that Mateo was looking for him right now. Instead, I went with a vague, noncommittal response. “I’m sorry. No one’s seen or heard a peep from him.” Technically I didn’t see his face so I wasn’t lying. I nodded toward my favorite cameraman standing with Peter, who was getting a close-up of the brand on my front door. I suspected the angle was purposely done to also get Scarlet and me in the background. “The media is looking at every angle.”
“Every angle?”
I nodded again. I tried to let her know how sorry I was for everything I said, everything she’d already gone through, and everything she was about to face, with a squeeze of her hand.
Scarlet squeezed mine in return and then looked at the reporters and customers throughout The Barn. “They’re asking about me, aren’t they?”
Again, I nodded. The whole thing didn’t make any sense, but it seemed the media had a burr on its butt with Scarlet’s name on it, and they had a hankering to dispose of that burr anyway they could.
Chapter Nine
I woke up the next day to my phone ringing on the counter in the other room. I rolled out of bed and nearly killed myself on a hungry armadillo loitering around her food bowl in the kitchen as I made a mad dash to answer my phone.
Princess squeaked her irritation as her toenails clicked across the wood floors toward her food bowl.
“Hello?” I tried to hide my sleepy voice, but failed miserably.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your hair?” Based on her tone, I could picture Scarlet with one hand on her hip and one finger in the air.
“You were having a rough day.”
“And someone attacking you with a branding iron isn’t ‘a rough day?’”
“That was a rough night,” I explained, rather calmly. My dad still didn’t know about the close call with the iron. The vandalism to the door was enough to add more wrinkles on his forehead—I didn’t want to be the cause of him needing a facelift.
“And yet you still came and put me to bed and let the whole town see your hair looking like that.”
“It wasn’t the whole town, more like a handful of the town.”
“Hazel Rock has a population of 2,093 people. How many do you think live in that neighborhood?”
“Are you volunteering to take care of my hair?” I said a silent prayer that she was. Anything else would just be cruel.
“Be at Beaus and Beauties in five minutes.”
We hung up and I was across the street and knocking on the front door of her business in three.
Scarlet took one look at my hair that I hadn’t even bothered to touch, and tsk’d her way to the sink with me in tow.
“Can you do something with it?”
“You do know who you’re talking to, right?”
“But this is a little challenging.” I pulled at th
e singed hairs.
“Stop pulling before I get it trimmed and treated.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I closed my eyes and let Scarlet weave her magic while the local country music station played on the radio. It had never been my first choice of music, but it was ingrained in my soul just as much as Hazel Rock.
“Do you know who did this?” Scarlet asked.
Technically, the answer was no. I couldn’t positively identify my attacker because he was in the dark and his hat shadowed his face. But if I was a betting woman, I’d put down a buck on Dalton being guilty. That’s a dollar bill, not a hundred dollars. I don’t have that kind of money to gamble. I went with the safe bet.
“I didn’t see his face.”
“But you have your suspicions,” she persisted.
“Everyone has their own opinions; it doesn’t make them right.” That was as noncommittal a response as I could come up with, because I did have some serious suspicions.
“Why would Dalton attack you?”
I opened my eyes as she finished the rinse. I met her gaze as she wrapped the towel around my head. “I don’t know. Why would anyone attack me?”
“It wasn’t Dalton,” she insisted.
I let it go. Scarlet was my best friend and even though we didn’t know each other that well, she’d been there for my dad when I was gone and she’d been there for me when I came home. It was time I returned the favor.
We moved to her chair in the front of the salon and she began trimming off the damaged section of my hair.
“How do you want to approach this? I can put in an extension, braid that side or all of it, or I can give you a new style with the left side a little shorter—almost like you were pulling it back with a comb.”
I didn’t want an extension, but the current style wasn’t going to cut it either. Braids were nice every now and then, but it wasn’t something I wanted to wear every day. “Let’s go with the new style. But what about the lack of curl. Will it come back?”
“A little conditioning with the trim and it will grow back as good as new.”
“Let’s do it.”
An hour later and I wanted to cry, this time out of joy. Scarlet had worked a miracle on my hair. It was stylish and fun and everything you’d never expect a bi-racial woman to get in small town, Texas.
“Scarlet, how can I thank you?” I got up and hugged her tight, wishing some of my happiness would rub off on her. It didn’t. “If there’s anything I can do, please just ask, you know I’ll do it.”
Hope glistened in her eyes. “Anything?”
Fuzz buckets. Nothing was ever free, including friendship, and I was the perfect example of how much that bond could cost a woman. It was my turn to fish or cut bait.
“Anything,” I said it with the confidence of a friend willing to go through the swamp and back.
“I’ve got something I want to show you in my trailer.”
We made our way back to her Airstream trailer she had parked behind the salon. It was her home away from home—home being the salon. Scarlet’s trailer was done in retro 70s style in shades of orange and yellow and was absolutely adorable. It was too small for my taste, but Scarlet loved it.
Scarlet turned down the air conditioning as we entered, and the motor kicked up and left a quiet, dull buzz for background noise. We sat down at the table and Scarlet pulled out an iPad.
“You bought an iPad! How awesome! Do you like it?” I asked.
Scarlet shook her head.
“You didn’t buy it?”
She shook her head again and I was beginning to think Bobblehead-itis was a real disease.
“You stole it?” That at least earned me an eye-roll.
“It’s Dalton’s.”
“Dalton Hibbs? What are you doing with Dalton’s iPad?” I asked.
“He left it the night we went to The Shed. We were planning on coming back here.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Help me get it open.”
“Don’t you think you should give it to his manager, or the promoter, or Mateo?”
Scarlet shook her head again. I was beginning to hate Bobbleheads.
“Why not?”
“Because then they might find him before I do.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Charli, you think he attacked you the other night. Everyone in this town believes he’s done something wrong.” Her back straightened with conviction. “He hasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“The same way I knew you didn’t commit murder when Mateo put you in jail for Marlene’s murder.”
There was no arguing from that point on. Even though Scarlet hadn’t known me very well when I’d returned to Hazel Rock, she’d believed in my innocence when I was the prime suspect in our real estate woman’s murder. And since then, I’d come to realize that she could read people and their motives better than most. I just hoped she didn’t become illiterate when her heart was involved.
Chapter Ten
As it turned out, Scarlet had more than just Dalton’s iPad. She also had his backpack full of toiletries, a change of clothes, and a well-worn reference book, The Dangerous Eight, that was all about bull riding. She also had his hotel room key that she’d used twice a day for the past couple days. She’d even gone there before she woke me up that morning. But his bed hadn’t been touched, nor had his clothes been moved from the drawers in the dresser. She was worried, and if I looked at it from her angle, I’d be worried as well.
“If I get past his password, then I can use the locator app and find his cell phone.”
“Are you sure he has an iPhone?” I asked.
“Yup. We took a couple selfies with it.”
“What passwords have you tried?”
“What makes you think I’ve tried any?”
“Really? You want to go there?”
“Okay, okay. I’ve tried his birthday. His brother’s birthday. Combinations of the two. I tried his mom’s and dad’s birthdays—
“You know his parents’ birthdays?”
“I even tried his dog’s birthday. But nothing. I’ve only got three more guesses before it permanently erases.”
I was beginning to think there was more to their relationship than I, or anyone else in the town knew. Just as I was about to ask her how serious their relationship had become, I thought of the numbers burned into my barn door.
“Have you tried 611?”
“It takes four digits.”
“Try a zero in front of it.”
Scarlet tapped in the numbers. The screen paused and we both held our breaths. The display darkened momentarily and I thought we’d been locked out for good, that maybe in her desperation, Scarlet had miscounted the number of passwords she’d tried. Then the image of a bull and his rider in the middle of the arena popped up on the screen. The rider’s right hand held high in the air as the black beast he was riding twisted in a completely unnatural position. The bull’s back feet were kicked so high off the ground, I suspected a grown man could walk underneath and still have clearance. But the cowboy was in complete control with a wicked grin on his face and a time clock reading 8.03 in the background.
“That’s Wyatt. He was the best I’ve ever seen.” Soft and reverent, Scarlet’s voice seemed as lost in the memory as she was.
And I saw my opportunity to get more information from her. My daddy always told me, “When a door is open, you don’t hesitate. You walk in and seize the opportunity in front of you.” I did just that. I asked the question the whole town believed they knew the answer to, yet I wasn’t so sure they did.
“Did you care for him?”
“I did. But I didn’t love him. I loved to photograph him. He was pure magic when he was in his element.” She sighed and said, “I took this picture.”
“You took that?” I pointed at the picture I would have sworn was taken by a professional.
“Yup. And I gave it to Dalton when Wyatt disappeared. That’s how we met.”
Still stunned, I stated the obvious. “But you were questioned in Wyatt’s disappearance.”
“And you were arrested for a murder you didn’t commit.”
It was true of course, but if I was willing to confess to anything, it was being able to see why Mateo arrested me in the first place. Dad was selling The Barn because of debt and was marrying our Realtor. I was against the sale, and would have been opposed to his engagement to the realtor if I’d known about it, which I hadn’t. And then there were the facts that she’d been killed with my belt and it appeared as if her scarf fell out of my purse, thanks to Princess depositing it on top of my purse without any of us noticing. Plus, I was the one who found her body. So yes, I’d looked guilty as sin, despite my innocence.
Scarlet scrolled through the different icons and finally found the locator app. I reached across her and touched the symbol that allowed us to go to another screen…with another password.
We tried names and places and combinations but couldn’t figure it out. Scarlet was growing more and more frustrated by the minute, and it was beginning to look like a lost cause when we got locked out of the app for the second time in a row. I grabbed a couple bottles of water from her fridge while we waited.
“Did you keep in touch with Dalton after you gave him the photograph?”
Scarlet looked up from the screen she’d been staring at. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering if he’d ever told you what his relationship was like with his brother.”
“They were best friends. Why?”
“They weren’t rivals?”
Scarlet shook her head as if she couldn’t believe I was headed in the direction I was going. “No more than Cade and Mateo.”
“Cade and Mateo aren’t brothers.”
“No, but they were like brothers…at least before you came back.”
I didn’t like the way that sounded. At all.
“I think they’re still like brothers,” I insisted.
“Maybe. But there’s a gap between them as big as the Rio Grande.”