The Dog Who Came for Christmas Page 10

  Savannah pretended to think about it.

  “No, that’s all right. I’m not really sure what-all I need. I’ll just call her in the morning.”

  She paused, then sighed reluctantly and assumed the pained expression of someone with a regrettable, if necessary, duty to perform.

  “Actually,” she said, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was talking to Marissa Daniels today. You know Marissa, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Of course you do. Her father’s one of the richest men in this town, and her husband’s the mayor.

  “She told me that Renee and Travis Diehl were seen having coffee together during working hours. Did you know about that?”

  Winona set the last of the magazines in a neat row.

  “I don’t get involved with my girls’ personal lives. If you have a question about that, you’ll have to ask Renee.”

  Savannah pursed her lips.

  “I must say, I’m surprised,” she said. “I mean, if you don’t care that your employees may be fraternizing—”

  Winona held up her hand.

  “Stop right there,” she said. “I told you, I do not get involved with such things.”

  “But your reputation—”

  “No. If I’d seen something unprofessional going on—here, in my salon—I’d have put a stop to it, but when my girls walk out that door, what they do is no business of mine. If the gossips in this town want to judge me by something I’ve got no control over, then there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Of course,” Savannah said. “I just thought you should know, seeing as it was all Marissa could talk about.”

  Winona picked up a pillow and gave it a slap.

  “If Marissa Daniels is that upset, I’m sure she’ll tell me herself. I do see her here pretty much every week.”

  Savannah felt her lips tighten. She’d been counting on Winona to take her side and tell Renee she’d been out of line, but the stupid old woman didn’t even seem to care. She took a shaky step backward.

  “I’ve had a long day, and I truly am very tired,” she said. “Would you mind if I set a spell before I get back on the road?”

  “Of course,” Winona said. “The girls should be here awhile longer. Can I get you a glass of water before I go?”

  Savannah simpered.

  “That would be lovely. Thank you, ma’am.”

  While Winona fetched the water, Savannah took a seat on the couch. The woman’s stubbornness was infuriating, but if she wanted to bury her head in the sand, there was nothing Savannah could do about it. It did not mean, however, that she was giving up.

  Who else could she enlist?

  If it had been anyone else making moves on Travis, she’d have known plenty of people who would pressure that person to back off. But she and Renee didn’t run in the same circles; the only common ground the two of them had was right where she was sitting. In order to get that little Jezebel out of the way, Savannah would have to find someone at the salon to help her.

  Winona brought her a glass of water, then told the other two to lock up when they were finished and headed out the door. Savannah thought the woman’s good-bye seemed a bit cool, but it hardly mattered. And, she thought, it might just have been her imagination. As the door closed on a gust of frosty air, she narrowed her eyes at the remaining two hairdressers, trying to decide which one would be more useful.

  When Tammy’s client was done, she settled her bill and walked out with Tammy hot on her heels, leaving no time for the two of them to have a word. That left only Winona’s niece, Sissy.

  Savannah thought about that. Sissy was like a big, friendly puppy, always sniffing around and sticking her nose into other people’s business. If anyone knew what was going on between Renee and Travis, it was probably her. Unfortunately, Sissy was closer to Renee than any of the other hairdressers, most of whom had little patience for Winona’s awkward, meddling niece. If Savannah was going to get any information out of Sissy, she’d need to find a way to persuade her to talk and keep her from blabbing about it to Renee. The question was: How?

  Minutes later, Sissy’s customer left, and the girl started cleaning up her station. Savannah watched as she wiped down the counter and put her combs in the Barbicide, shook out the drape, and put it in the hamper along with the towel she’d wrapped around her client’s neck. Then Sissy grabbed the broom from a hook on the wall and started sweeping up the floor around her chair.

  Savannah leaned forward and frowned. Sissy had taken a small plastic bag from her pocket and was bending down. As she watched, the girl picked up a handful of hair, stuffed it into the bag, sealed it, and stuffed it back into her pocket before sweeping up the rest of the hair and throwing it away.

  What on earth was she doing?

  Whatever it was, Savannah thought, it didn’t appear to be something the girl wanted anyone else to know about. On a hunch, she got up from the couch and followed Sissy as she walked into the back room.

  “What were you doing out there?”

  Sissy nearly jumped out of her skin—a sure sign, Savannah thought, of a guilty conscience.

  “Just cleaning up my station,” she said with exaggerated indifference. “Why?”

  “Because it looked to me like you were stealing your client’s hair. Does your Aunt Winona know about that?”

  It was a flawed argument, but Savannah was counting on Sissy’s credulity to make it work.

  The girl tried to laugh, but it caught in her throat like a hiccup.

  “Who says I was stealing hair?”

  “I am. I saw you, just now. You grabbed a handful of hair and stuck it in your pocket. Now, either you tell me what you were doing or I tell Winona that you’re a thief.”

  For a few awkward moments, it looked as if Sissy would hold her ground. If she did, Savannah knew she’d have no choice but to back down. Taking hair might be a bit creepy, but there was probably nothing illegal about it, and Winona would certainly be disinclined to report her own kin. As the seconds ticked by, though, Savannah stayed firm. Finally, Sissy’s brave front faltered. Her lower lip began to tremble.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Seeing her fold so quickly made Savannah smile. This had been almost too easy.

  “Because what you’re doing is wrong—it might even be dangerous. You could be using that hair to make voodoo dolls.”

  Sissy gasped. “That’s not true! I only took it because Renee asked me to.”

  “Renee asked you? Why would she do that?”

  Now that the spotlight had been turned away from her, Sissy was eager to tell all.

  “It’s for her little boy,” she said. “He collects hair. It’s his hobby, like.”

  “His hobby is collecting hair?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “He’s sort of different, if you know what I mean, but he doesn’t do anything bad with it.”

  Savannah felt her mouth open. What was it Marissa had said when she heard Renee’s last name was Richardson?

  “There’s a strange little boy with that name who’s always making trouble for Cody.”

  She licked her lips, smiling as a whole new world of possibilities opened up. Not only had she found a way to get Sissy to do her bidding, but she might have found a weapon against Renee, as well.

  Sissy was beginning to look less cowed.

  “You know, Renee says once you cut it off, hair’s just trash, and nobody cares if you take their trash.”

  She might have a point, of course, but Savannah had no intention of giving in. If she was going to use the girl to send a message to Renee, she’d have to keep her in doubt as to the consequences of her actions.

  “She’s wrong. Haven’t you ever seen one of those police shows? Hair’s got DNA in it; Renee could be using it for all kinds of reasons. If anyone found out that you were helping her, you’d be in a whole mess of trouble.”

  Sissy flinched, too unsure of hersel
f to question what she was hearing. It was exactly the sort of reaction Savannah had been hoping for. All she had to do now was offer the girl a way out of her predicament.

  “Of course, you only took the hair because Renee told you to . . .”

  “That’s right,” Sissy said hopefully. “I was just trying to help.”

  Savannah grimaced, as though pondering a perplexing moral situation.

  “Yes, and it hardly seems fair to punish you for that . . .”

  She sighed dramatically.

  “I think the best thing to do would be to tell Winona and let her decide—”

  Sissy mewled in agony.

  “—but I’d hate to see you get in trouble for something that wasn’t your fault.” She shrugged. “Maybe we should just forget about it.”

  Sissy practically melted with relief.

  “Thank you so much. Honestly, I mean it. I really, really appreciate it.”

  “Of course. I mean, you and I are friends, Sissy, and friends help each other out.”

  Sissy nodded earnestly. Having finally found a way out of her predicament, it was clear she was willing to do almost anything to pay her back.

  “And now that I’ve helped you out,” Savannah said, “I’m going to need you to return the favor.”

  CHAPTER 15

  It was the last day of school before Christmas vacation, and Kieran was taking in his hair collection for show and tell. The students would be doing their science project in the spring, and he was hoping Mrs. Dalton would be impressed enough to let him do his on hair. He’d put new labels on all the bags and used cut out pictures from hair magazines to decoupage the box the night before. As he checked to make sure that everything was in order, he rubbed the dog’s fur between his fingers for luck.

  “Hurry up, Kieran! We’re going to be late!”

  At the sound of Dylan’s voice, he felt an involuntary tic wrinkle his nose.

  “I’m coming!”

  Kieran put the dog fur back into its bag, closed the lid, and slid the box into his backpack. Then he hurried down the hall, counting his steps as he went.

  Dylan and McKenna were waiting for him by the front door.

  “Put your coat on,” Dylan said.

  “And stop counting,” McKenna snapped. “It’s embarrassing.”

  Kieran set the backpack on the floor and took his winter coat from the hook, briefly checking the patch job under the left arm. If anyone had noticed, they hadn’t mentioned it.

  Grandpa came out of the kitchen and handed each of them a sack lunch.

  “I put a toothbrush in yours,” he told McKenna. “You don’t want to go to the dentist with crap stuck between your teeth.”

  McKenna snatched the bag out of his hand and stuffed it into her backpack.

  “Got your hair collection?”

  Kieran scowled. “It’s a science project.”

  “Oh, right,” Grandpa said. “I forgot.”

  Dylan opened the door, letting in a blast of frigid air.

  “Let’s get going,” he said, urging the younger siblings outside.

  “Shotgun!” McKenna cried as the two of them ran for the car.

  “No fair,” Kieran said, scurrying after her.

  The two of them piled into the ancient Toyota as Dylan got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Kieran put on his seat belt, took out his hair collection, and set it gently down beside him. McKenna craned her neck around the passenger’s seat and glared at the box.

  “Do you just want to be bullied?”

  “No,” he said. “Of course not.”

  “Leave him alone,” Dylan said, checking his mirrors.

  She crossed her arms. “I’m just saying.”

  “I know what you’re saying”—he put the car in gear and started backing out of the driveway—“just stop saying it.”

  “Fine,” she huffed, and turned to look out the window.

  Kieran swung his feet on the way to school, slipping in one or two “accidental” kicks to the back of his sister’s seat along the way. Why was she always asking him stupid questions like that? She made it sound like he was doing stuff just to make her look bad.

  He opened the lid of the box and looked at the bag with the dog fur inside. The dog didn’t care about any of that, he thought. It hadn’t even cared that first time, when Kieran cried; it just licked his face and put its paw on his arm to show him it was okay. If the dog was his, he thought, he’d always know that there was someone at home who didn’t care about being embarrassed or think that everything bad that happened was his fault.

  Middle school started earlier than elementary school, so they dropped McKenna off first. As they approached the drop-off zone, she checked her face in the mirror and did a quick touch-up of her hair. Since starting middle school, Kieran thought, his sister spent way too much time in the bathroom trying to look like all the popular girls in her grade. He made a face, hoping she’d see him behind her, but she ignored him.

  As Dylan pulled over to the curb, McKenna snapped the visor back up and hoisted her backpack.

  “Remember,” he said. “You’ve got a dental appointment today.”

  “Like I could forget? Give me a break.”

  “You forgot last time, and Mom still had to pay.”

  “Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever.”

  She got out and slammed the door, then ran toward a group of girls who were standing out in front. Dylan shook his head.

  “She’ll forget.”

  “Yup,” Kieran said.

  Dylan turned and looked back at him.

  “You want to sit up here?”

  “No. I don’t want to move the box around too much. It gets everything all messed up and then I have to fix it.”

  As they pulled back into traffic, Kieran daydreamed in silence.

  What should he name the dog? he wondered. As disappointing as it was that the twine leash hadn’t worked, he wasn’t giving up on the idea of taking the dog home with him, and in the meantime he was getting tired of calling it just “dog.” He liked the name Rex, but he’d had a friend back in Camden with a dog named Rex, and he didn’t want people to think that he’d copied.

  Whatever name he picked would have to be a boy’s name, though, because that’s the kind of dog it was. He was glad, too, because if it had been a girl dog McKenna might have insisted on buying it a pink collar and dressing it in clothes like she used to do with her dolls. At least a boy dog would be spared that indignity. With luck, in fact, his sister wouldn’t want to have anything to do with it.

  When they got to the elementary school, Kieran gathered his things, carefully returning the box with his hair collection to his backpack. As he kicked the car door shut behind him, Dylan rolled down the passenger side window.

  “You sure you don’t want to come to the dentist with us?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You should take the bus, then. It’s too cold to walk.”

  Kieran jutted his jaw stubbornly.

  “Mom said I could walk home if I wanted to.”

  Dylan shrugged.

  “You got the note for the office lady?”

  Kieran patted his breast pocket.

  “Yes.”

  “Her name’s Debbie. Don’t forget to tell her the note’s from Renee Richardson.”

  Kieran let out a pained sigh.

  “I know. Can I go now?”

  Dylan pressed his lips together and gave him a hard look.

  “Okay, get out of here,” he said, then added: “Good luck.”

  Kieran hurried through the front door and turned right, heading for the principal’s office—the same place he’d met with Dr. Joan. Principal Fielding wasn’t in yet, but his secretary, Debbie, was at her desk, talking to a woman he’d never seen before. The woman had her hip on Debbie’s desk and was leaning over as she spoke. Her blouse hadn’t been buttoned all the way, and Kieran could see the top of her breasts. Before he could look away, the woman turned and gave him a smile
that made his cheeks burn.

  “Good morning, young man,” Debbie said. “What can I do for you?”

  Kieran shook his head, fighting the urge to wince, and reached into his pocket.

  “This is for you,” he said. “It’s from Renee Richardson.”

  He took out the slightly crumpled envelope and set it on her desk.

  She smiled. “Why, thank you.”

  The other woman was staring at him.

  “You must be Kieran,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He glanced at Debbie, hoping for an explanation.

  “This is Miz Hays,” she said. “She’s a client of your mama’s, just like I am.”

  Miz Hays laid a finger on his backpack.

  “That’s a lot of books you’ve got in there. They must be heavy.”

  “No, ma’am. It’s my hair collection.”

  “Well, bless your heart. Your mama’s a hairdresser and you collect hair.” She looked back at Debbie. “Isn’t that just the cutest thing?”

  Kieran smiled uncertainly. Was Miz Hays being nice, or was she just teasing him?

  Debbie glanced up at the clock.

  “The bell’s about to ring, Kieran. You’d best be going,” she said. “You don’t want to be late.”

  CHAPTER 16

  It was five days until Christmas, and the parking lot at the mall was packed. As Renee drove up and down the aisles, searching for an empty space, she could feel her frustration growing. Other than a few things to put in their stockings, she hadn’t bought a single present for the kids. Who knew if there’d be anything left on the shelves by the time she got in there? She almost wished she’d done her shopping on Wednesday instead of having coffee with Travis Diehl.

  Almost.

  A woman up ahead was walking out to her car, keys in hand. Renee put on her signal and waited for the parking spot to open up. Doing her shopping now might be frustrating, she thought, but she wasn’t really sorry she’d put it off. Having coffee at Mimesis was the first time in years that she’d done something just to please herself, and it had given her a more optimistic attitude toward the future. Whether or not she took her portfolio to show Pat, that alone had been worth it.

  Her phone rang—a number she didn’t recognize. Renee reached down and pushed the button.