Chapter 4 Reid
FOUR
Reid
The meeting the prior morning with Hazel ran on a loop in my mind. The minute she’d rushed out of that diner, I’d told myself it was for the best. The likelihood that I could help her was slim. It was better we part ways early on than to get her hopes up only to fail her.
But then my brain repainted the memory of her crumpled face over and over again, and guilt seeped in. If she was so willing to meet with her coworker’s brother, how likely was it that she had anyone else to turn to right now?
I didn’t even know her, but I hated the thought of her dealing with this all by herself. Ruby wasn’t the only empath in the family.
An alert pinged from the group chat with my sleuthing crew.
Then another.
This was my usual routine: wake up early, knock out work, then spend the afternoon chatting with them, digging through clues, watching crime docs—whatever.
WhiteKnight31 was actually Scott, a single guy in his mid-forties with an anime obsession who lived out in Seattle.
Armchair_Detective was Eddie, around my age and living just over the state border in Ohio, with a wife and a baby on the way.
We’d actually met up once, given our reasonably close proximity.
I’d kind of fallen into the group after my divorce.
I’d always been into cold cases and mysteries, and suddenly I had a lot more free time, so I started spending that time on cold case forums. Eventually, I got into regular conversations with two guys who had been deep into a semi-local case—a woman who had gone missing walking to her car from the gym.
Middle of the day. Broad daylight. It was absurd that, in this day and age, no one had figured out what happened.
After weeks of obsessing over details, even visiting the scene myself, we actually dug up something that led the police to the guy: her ex-husband. The one who should’ve been suspect number one, but had somehow slipped by with a garbage alibi.
Still, solving one case didn’t make us pros. It was more dumb luck than the start of some groundbreaking internet detective squad. Which was why I kept telling myself that there was no way I’d be any help to Hazel.
WhiteKnight31: And you just told her no!?
ReidingRainbow: I didn’t tell her no. I just offered her a solution that might be easier.
Armchair_Detective: “Oh, your situation sounds hopeless, better just pay up and cross your fingers you get your cat back.”
ReidingRainbow: It didn’t go exactly like that…
WhiteKnight31: Help the poor girl save her cat, you monster.
ReidingRainbow: Alright, no name calling.
Armchair_Detective: We can help you. I’m insulted you didn’t even ask for our help.
WhiteKnight31: Yeah, wtf Reid.
Armchair_Detective: This could be a blog post if we solve it! Changed names and facts obviously.
WhiteKnight31: You’re right, people love a pet redemption story.
Armchair_Detective: Just think of John Wick.
WhiteKnight31: I prefer not to.
ReidingRainbow: Potential blog content isn’t a good reason to do something.
WhiteKnight31: No, saving the cat is reason enough you dingbat. What is wrong with you?
ReidingRainbow: I never said no! She walked out.
WhiteKnight31: After you were being unhelpful.
Armchair_Detective: Doesn’t she work with your sister? Doesn’t seem like she’d be hard to track down if you really wanted to.
A random weekday afternoon was a good a day as any to get a haircut.
At least that’s what I told myself as I pulled into the parking lot of my sister’s salon. I certainly didn’t have an ulterior motive for being there—like, let’s say, talking to a certain coworker of hers.
After thinking on it for a full twenty-four hours, I officially couldn’t get Hazel out of my mind. Maybe it was the part of me who always wanted to be helpful, but I couldn’t leave it alone.
The salon had seen better days. The paint had peeled off the cement facade, leaving it weathered and tired.
The lines in the parking lot had completely vanished, with no traces left to even suggest where a space might’ve been.
The owners of the building didn’t do much to keep up the appearance, but I knew Ruby loved this place.
I slammed the car door and bent down to adjust my glasses in the side mirror before straightening up.
Shoulders squared, I walked straight into the salon.
A bell rang above me to signal my entry.
The white-haired owner—a woman who always scared me a little—sat at the front desk.
“Appointment?” she asked.
“Um, I’m here to see—”
“Hey bro,” Ruby interrupted with a bright smile, spinning in her salon chair at the front.
The owner immediately looked away from me and back to the computer.
“Hey,” I said, nodding in her direction, my eyes scanning the entirety of the small space.
I must have been in at some point when Hazel was working, but haircuts for me were almost clinical. Get in, get out. It wasn’t like I took the time to take in the space, let alone notice who was there and what they looked like.
Now I found her impossible not to notice, and not because she was the only stylist in the small space aside from Ruby.
Her round face had this perpetually friendly look about it.
Her long brown hair was pulled back into the messiest of buns.
She talked animatedly with her hands, multitasking between grand gestures and brushing bleach over a woman’s blonde hair.
I willed her to look up at me, but she was too engrossed in her conversation.
“Were you here to get a haircut, or are you here to ogle Hazel?” Ruby teased.
I jerked my gaze away and walked over to her chair. “I wanted to ask her how it’s going. With her cat and all.”
She shrugged. “Oh, y’know. About exactly zero progress. She’s stopped crying at work, which is a plus.”
Guilt ensnared my chest and pulled tightly.
Ruby tapped her chin, squinting at me. Before I could take a seat in her chair, she spun it away from me. “Actually, if you want to talk to her, maybe you could let her take this appointment? I’ve got a client coming in fifteen, and her client is about to sit under a dryer for thirty minutes.”
“What?” I must have looked horrified. “No way. Fifteen minutes is plenty for my hair and I’ll just talk to her when you’re done—”
“Hazel!” she called while I shot figurative daggers at her with my eyes.
Hazel and her client both looked toward the front of the room. “Yeah?” she called back, giving me a small wave when she noticed me, her eyes wide like saucers.
“Mind cutting Reid’s hair for me? I’m kind of swamped today.”
“That’s really alright,” I tried to say, but Hazel was already nodding.
Shit. How had I not predicted Ruby would pull something like this?
“That’s fine. Let me just put her under the dryer,” Hazel said.
Five minutes later, I was in the back of the salon, sitting in Hazel’s chair.
My foot bounced restlessly against the floor. It had been years since anyone besides Ruby had touched my hair. My haircut had been the same for twenty years, and I liked it just the way it was. I wasn’t big on change. I tensed as Hazel gently lifted the hair at the crown of my head, inspecting it.
“Just a little off the top and clean up the neck, please.”
“You sure?” she asked. I couldn’t help but notice the two Band-Aids on her left hand. Was she in the practice of nicking herself during haircuts?
“I’m sure.”
“If you kept the length on top and faded it into the back it would look really nice.”
“I like it short,” I said.
She frowned in response, still examining my hair. “It’s fun to experiment,” she tried again.
“Not for me.” I blew out a breath and tried to remain calm as she plugged in her clippers and they came buzzing to life.
When she touched the back of my neck, she asked, “Any Halloween plans?” at the same time I said, “So about the other day.”
We made eye contact in the mirror and she let out a nervous chuckle.
“I’m not a big Halloween guy,” I said, answering her question.
“I’ll probably just stay home. If I’m feeling really festive, maybe I’ll put on a scary movie.
” That was an understatement. I hated dressing up.
West would most likely try to convince me to go out, but I was confident I could dodge his efforts.
“I’m not big on Halloween either,” Hazel said. She continued to work on my hair in silence for a few moments before speaking again. “I’m sorry I ran out on you the other day.”
I let out a breath. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
She shook her head. “Look, it was silly of me to think you could help. I’ve pretty much accepted my fate.”
“Actually—”
“As soon as I get my winnings, I’ll send them off and hope for the best.”
“I was thinking—”
“It’ll be a blow, but worth it if I can get Vermont back. I still don’t trust this sicko, obviously, but what other choice do I have—”
“Hazel,” I said, this time with more force. She paused mid-sentence, her lips slightly parted. She shut off the buzzer and I resisted the urge to touch the back of my neck to ensure she’d taken off the proper length.
“What?” she asked.
“I’ve been thinking about your…predicament some more, and I want to help.”
“Y-you do?”
The fact that she was prepared to part with her entire winnings to save her cat made me even more sure I was making the right decision. She deserved to have someone on her side. Someone who would at least make an attempt to help her.
“I do. And I’m sorry for saying you should negotiate. You’re right, I didn’t even try to help you at first. I acted exactly like all the detectives in all of the cold cases that keep me up at night by just brushing you off and looking for the simplest solution.”
“You’re serious?” I could see hope blooming in her eyes. Damn, she was expressive.
“I am. Again, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help, but at the end of the day, what we’re dealing with is an amateur, not some criminal mastermind. I think we at least have a shot.”
Hazel squealed so loudly I jumped back in my chair.
“Oh my God, I could cry. Thank you, Reid.”
“Hazel.” Miranda gave her a warning glare from the front of the salon.
“Sorry,” Hazel called.
A guy with sharp eyebrows and spiky hair emerged from the back room. “What’s going on?” he asked, hovering near Hazel.
“Reid is going to help me find Vermont.”
The guy held his hand over his heart and looked to the ceiling before gazing directly into my eyes. “Good. Hazel could use a break.”
“Um, no problem.” I shifted in my seat, the weight of their attention pressing down on me. “Maybe we could meet at the diner again to get started.”
“Let’s just get started right now,” Hazel said turning the clippers back on. “Even though I’d basically given up hope, I thought a lot about what you told me. Think of the suspects. And I really think there’s only one obvious choice—”
“Maybe you want to concentrate,” I offered, pointing at my hair where she’d started buzzing again.
“Oh, I’m fine. I could do this in my sleep,” she said.
I white-knuckled the arms of the chair and forced myself to trust the process. This was her job, after all. She wasn’t about to shave an accidental bald spot into the back of my head.
Right?
“Alright then, who’s the obvious choice?” I asked.
“My old boss,” she said with a wince. “We didn’t…well we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”
I furrowed my brows at her vague explanation, but I decided not to push it. “And you really think he has it out for you?” As someone who had worked remotely for years and had never had more than a cordial relationship with a manager, I found the idea hard to fathom.
She nodded, looking sheepish. “Well, ‘have it out for’ is such a strong phrase. Let’s just say we didn’t have the greatest of relationships.”
“I think it’s Clinton for sure,” the other stylist said. He was now sitting in the chair next to the one I was in, spinning toward us. “I’m Jackson, by the way.”
“Reid,” I said, with a small wave. “And why do you think it’s your old boss?” I asked.
Hazel frowned, picking up her scissors and pulling my hair up. “It’s silly—”
“He thinks you owe him money,” Jackson said.
“Why would you owe your old boss money?”
Hazel huffed. “It’s not like I stole from him, or something. Jackson is making it seem more dramatic than it was. He had unfair pricing tactics, and I organized a protest with some of the other stylists.”
“It was a full-on strike. Went viral and everything,” Jackson said.
I gave Hazel a look in the mirror.
“Well, that’s certainly a good place to start,” I said.
She averted her eyes. “And he stopped by the salon about a month ago, demanding I take down a few negative reviews I left.”
“What?” I sat up straight. “Hazel, that’s serious.”
“He’s harmless…I mean, I thought he was harmless.”
“Showing up at your place of work is threatening,” I said.
She chewed her lip. “He is kind of a dick.”
“Like I said, suspect number one,” Jackson said as if he was now in on this with the two of us. “What’s the plan?”
I cringed when Hazel brought the clippers near my ear. Forcing my shoulders to relax, I let out a breath. “To start, I’d try to cyberstalk him and—”
“I know where he works,” Hazel interrupted. “It’s still the same salon.”
Unease flickered in my chest. “But we can’t just go there.”
“A stakeout!” Jackson exclaimed.
“That’s where investigations end, not start,” I said.
“But if there’s any evidence it’s him, we could be done so quickly,” Hazel pointed out.
“Or get caught so quickly,” I argued, already regretting stepping into this salon today. What the hell had I gotten myself into? At this point, my inability to say no—or let people down—was seriously starting to annoy me.
“It has to be him. He definitely hates my guts. I can’t think of anyone else.” She chewed on her lip.
She looked chaotically adorable like that, bottom lip snagged under her teeth, eyes staring into the mirror at mine, but also staring right through. She was clearly already thinking ten steps ahead.
“Then we’ll look into it,” I said, attempting to reel her in. “There are other things we can do before just showing up at the guy’s place of work.”
“We can be discreet,” she argued.
I let out a frustrated breath. “I’m absolutely not doing a stakeout.”