Chapter 28
Hog
“The woman is a fucking psychopath.”
I’m keeping half an eye on Anika, but her mother is close by her side, making sure she doesn’t overdo it.
She’s been shaking hands and making small talk since we left the graveside. We’re still at the cemetery in a small hall used specifically for funeral receptions. Anika hadn’t expected many people, and seemed pleasantly surprised at the number of hair salon customers who showed up.
“Not telling me anything new,” I comment to Evans.
He joined me in the quiet corner of the room I’d retreated to a few minutes ago, and I’m guessing he’s talking about Monique and not Anika. He never made it over to the house yesterday afternoon—he called and said he got caught up in another case—but he’d connect with us today.
So we didn’t get an update from him, but I had heard the crap Monique had spewed at Anika, and we learned even more when Landon dropped by yesterday.
It turns out Monique had shown some of her true colors with the rest of the Chop Shop employees. She would criticize Anika behind her back for all kinds of big and little things. She tried to undermine her, telling the other employees Anika had been critical of their work and had mentioned firing them but retaining their clients.
Landon said he had always brushed it off as high school level jealousy he didn’t want to get in the middle of. He mentioned it had gotten more mean and vicious recently, to the point Monique suggested not only to Kim, but Landon and Molly as well, Anika was having an affair with Chris Cooper. Not that anybody bought into that.
But according to Landon, by then Anika had already been under a lot of stress, and he didn’t want to add to it by pointing fingers at Monique. He’d been almost in tears telling us, he felt guilty, thinking maybe if he’d said something sooner, Anika might not have gotten almost killed.
“No,” Evans insists. “I literally mean she’s textbook certifiable. She hits every marker of a psychopath. She gets off on manipulating and deceiving. She was trying to convince me Anika had brought the gun and was shooting at her. That she’d managed to get it away from her, and that’s when Anika fell in the water.” Evans shakes his head. “I mean, she talks with a conviction that would be very easy to buy into.”
“She fucking had me fooled,” I admit.
Trust me, if I had any doubts about her sanity, I’d never have let her use sharp scissors on me.
“I think, at first, she well may have liked Anika, perhaps even admired her, but she definitely became obsessed and envious with time,” Evans elaborates. “I didn’t mention this at the hospital, because Ramirez was still going through them, but the woman had a plastic bin filled with notebooks under her bed. They go back years, and are filled with strange plots that read like scenes out of thriller movies. What they have in common is that Anika features in every single one of them.”
“It blows my mind,” I admit, rubbing a hand over my head. “What triggered her?”
“Who knows? Frankly, it doesn’t have to be anything. Hell, there are people who lead perfectly normal lives who one day decide to kill their parents, their neighbor, or a random stranger, just for the hell of it. You can’t try to understand a psychopath because they work with a different set of rules and generally know no empathy or remorse or shame. The only thing that drives them is their own gratification.”
We stay quiet when Molly comes around, carrying a tray of sandwiches. Evans takes one and shoves half of it in his mouth. I take one as well, but more for Molly’s sake than anything else, because I’m not really that hungry.
“Thanks, Molly,” I tell the girl.
She had been devastated to find out she’d been used to lure Anika. Landon seems to have taken her under his wing, but the girl is obviously still shaken.
“I’m curious, did she ever tell you what her end plan was?” I ask after taking one bite of my sandwich and tossing the rest in a trash can underneath the small side table.
“I know she got the idea to actually kill Anika when Cooper came by the salon in a state, looking for his wife. She got his number and started texting him, figuring she could rile him up enough to actually get violent with Anika—which obviously worked—and then suspicion would automatically fall on him when she turned up dead.”
“Guess that plan didn’t work for her,” I grumble bitterly.
“No. But that didn’t stop her, she decided she could still pull it off if she made it look like suicide. Arrogance was her downfall. She was too high on her own superiority, thought she was in control, and it tripped her up.”
“Thank fucking God for that.”
I force a smile on my face when I see Anika moving toward us.
“Is everything all right?” she asks as I put my arm around her waist.
She’s wearing a sling on the left side, but I notice she also seems to be holding that arm with her right one.
“Everything is fine. How are you holding up?” I ask her.
She sends me a tense little smile.
“Hanging in. I’m not gonna lie, I’ll be glad when this is done.”
“How much longer?”
She sighs. “We have this place until three.”
“Another forty-five minutes,” Evans contributes, checking his watch.
I catch Landon’s eye—he’s chatting with Fergie, Trin, and Mel—and motion him over.
“What’s up?”
“Anika is beat, would you mind getting everyone’s attention and thanking them for coming on behalf of the team at the Chop Shop? I’ll make sure people start moving.”
Evans chuckles as he starts walking away. Anika doesn’t think it’s funny though, and uses her good arm to elbow me in the ribs.
“Hog,”she admonishes me under her breath.
“Three days ago you were shot, almost drowned, and ended up in the hospital with serious hypothermia. You only got home yesterday, and yet you’ve been on your feet since ten this morning.”
I’ve no sooner pointed that out, when Evans is back with a chair. He places it behind Anika and urges her to sit. Then I bend down to eye level.
“I have not interfered, because it was important for you to do this for Kim, and you’ve done it, but I’m not about to let you kill yourself, so I’m stepping in.”
A high-pitched electronic noise suddenly assaults my ears, followed by a few dull thuds. I scan the room and find Landon standing on a chair near the dessert table, waving a microphone around.
“Hello, beautiful people!” he starts, a big smile on his face.
The volume is twice as loud as would be comfortable to the ear, but that doesn’t appear to bother Landon.
Anika yanks at my sleeve and I bend down to hear her speak.
“Just so you know, I blame you. One-hundred-percent.”
Anika
It feels like a lifetime has passed since the last time I was here.
It’s only been days, but in that time my little world has shifted on its axis. Assess, adapt, and move forward. Again.
Maybe that’s simply the way life is; a constant adjusting to keep your balance. It has certainly kept me on my toes in my resolve to carve my own path.
But what makes this infinitely more manageable is knowing I have a solid presence at my back.
That’s what Hog has become in a short period of time, an unwavering force helping to keep me grounded.
Today, that’s in the form of a steadying hand in the small of my back as I walk into the salon. My eyes are immediately drawn to Monique’s station which, to my surprise, has already been cleared of her personal items. I suspect that may have been Landon’s doing.
Yesterday was Kim’s funeral, today I’ve asked Molly, Landon, and Fergie to meet me here. The salon is their future too, and if we’re to overcome this last hit, we’ll need everyone on board.
“I’ll be right back,” Hog says behind me, ducking out the back door.
I sit down in one of the chairs by the sinks at the back. From here I can see the entire salon, and I’m trying to take it in with an objective eye. When you work in a space every day, you stop seeing little details. Like the framed posters on the wall we haven’t updated in years, or the chipped and scuffed paint here and there on the walls. The chairs are still in good condition, but there are a few burned out pot lights in the ceiling, and the small waiting area by the front desk could use a little lift.
“Morning!”
I glance over my shoulder to see Landon walking in, carrying the tray of coffees Hog and I picked up at the Durango Coffee Company across the street. Hog follows right behind Landon with the box of pastries from the same place.
When Molly and Fergie arrive a few moments later, Hog leans in for a sweet kiss.
“I’m gonna leave you to it,” he announces, surprising me. “I’m gonna run a few errands while you guys talk. I shouldn’t be too long, otherwise, give me a call.”
A call on the new cell phones he picked up for us on the weekend.
I watch him walk out the back, before I turn back to the others, catching all three of them gawking and wearing grins.
“Wouldn’t mind me some of that,” Landon shares.
“Ditto,” Molly mumbles, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.
“Where do I sign up?” Fergie wants to know.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn them before launching into the reason I asked everyone to come.
“We have a choice to make. We can open the day after tomorrow and hobble along with two licensed hairdressers and one assistant, until I’m fully recovered and we can get a few more bodies in here. Or alternately, we use this break to figure out what each of us individually and collectively are looking for, and what, if any, adjustments would need to be made in terms of the Chop Shop.”
“Wow, that’s a mouthful of a different kind,” Landon comments.
But I have my eyes on Molly, who looks like she’s about to bounce out of her chair.
“Molly?”
“I want to get my license,” she blurts out.
I smile at her. “Yeah? We can definitely help with that.” I look at the other two for confirmation. Both of them nod. “Anyone else have any personal ambitions?”
“Oh, honey, I have many, but none of them really career related,” Landon jokes. “Other than perhaps winning the North American Hairstyling Award one day.”
“Lofty dreams,” Fergie comments, before listing their own goals. “I just want to set down roots, both personally and professionally. It looks like I have working at a great salon with a fun team of people covered, now all I need is finding a place that’s affordable but a little closer than the dump I’m renting now.”
I glance at Landon, who looks back and seems to read my mind as he shrugs his shoulders. If I could rent out the apartment upstairs, it would definitely help make up for some of the income I may be losing before we get the salon back on track.
“Actually,” I tell Fergie. “I don’t know if a rental right above your place of work is a little too close for your comfort, but I have an empty apartment right upstairs.”
Their face lights up.
“Seriously? That’s empty?”
“I can help you move,” Landon offers enthusiastically.
“It’s empty,” I confirm. “I can show you around after we’re done here.”
“I’d like that.”
By the time Hog comes back, I have a better sense of direction and am once again hopeful for the future of the salon.
When I prompted them for ideas for improvements for the salon itself, Molly pointed out a few of the mirrors were chipped, and there was a crack in one of the basins at the washing station. Landon brought up paint as well, suggesting it could use freshening up, to which Fergie mentioned they’d done some work as a handyman and would be happy to put in a bit of elbow grease. Of course, Landon immediately offered Fergie his assistance.
So, the collective decision was made to keep the salon closed for the next two weeks. It’ll give the crew time to do some work, and me an opportunity to find a few additional hairdressers.
“Feeling better?” Hog asks, after I outline the plans for him on our way home.
“Much. Especially with Fergie renting the upstairs apartment.”
Fergie loved the apartment when I showed them, and easily agreed on the monthly rental amount I quoted them.
When we walk into the house, the boys greet us enthusiastically, putting a smile on my face.
“I did something impulsive today,” Hog starts, following me into the kitchen.
I immediately stop in my tracks and swing around. Impulsive is not really the man’s style, so I’m more than a little curious. He worries me a little when he holds up both hands defensively.
The, “Hear me out,” that follows isn’t that promising either.
“I’m listening.”
“I booked us a trip.”
I shake my head, I’m not sure I heard him right.
“What?”
“Grand Cayman, seven days, all inclusive, leaving Saturday.”
“What? Are you nuts?”
I tamp down that little ripple of excitement, and focus on the logistical nightmare that would create, with the dogs and the salon. It would be irresponsible, especially at this time.
“When’s the last time you’ve been on vacation?”
My spinning thoughts grind to a halt as I try to remember. Definitely not since I opened the Chop Shop. Every penny went either into the salon, or toward the down payment on a house I was saving up for.
“It’s been a while,” I admit.
“Right. And I’ve never taken more than a few days of vacation to go on a short hunting or fishing trip with one of the guys. Definitely never been on a beach vacation somewhere warm.”
“But, Hog, I have a business to run. I can’t just up and leave.”
Something must have shown on my face to encourage him, because he suddenly closes the distance and puts his hands on my hips, a bright smile on his face.
“You don’t have to. Technology can be a wonderful thing. The resort has Wi-Fi everywhere on the grounds. Which means all you need is a laptop, and you could do just about anything you’d be doing from home, if you wanted to. Even check in on progress at the salon every day.”
I open my mouth to protest, but then snap it shut again.
He’s right, I was going to rest and heal, maybe keep tabs on the goings-on at the salon. The only other thing is to find more staff, but I still have three days to get working on that, and even that doesn’t really require me being here.
“What about your work? You were just given a clean bill of health.”
“I have so much vacation time accumulated over the years; the chief encouraged me to use some of it up before I move to the captain’s slot in the fall.”
He gives me a little shake. “You running out of arguments yet?”
I am, other than to say I’m not really comfortable doing spontaneous things. I’m more of a planner, but damn…
“You’re crazy,” I repeat, for lack of anything better to say.
“Maybe,” he concedes. “But after the crazy start we have had, I’d love to get away for a bit where it’s just you and me. I think we both deserve that.”
I drop my forehead to his chest.
Grand Cayman, in four days. I don’t even know if I have a bathing suit that fits. I’m going to need a pedicure, definitely some waxing.
“The dogs!” I grab on to the last excuse I have.
“We drop them with your mother and she’ll be happier than a pig in shit. You know she will.”
I blow out a sharp breath.
“Better let me go then. I only have three days to plan.”