34
SIMONE
After Simone wiped down her leather chair and dropped her combs into the blue barbicide on the countertop, the bell above the door at the entrance dinged. She had just finished with her last client, and the next called ten minutes ago to let her know she would be twenty minutes late. Twenty extra minutes Simone really didn’t want to spend at work two days before Christmas. Not after the news she’d gotten last night.
But service with a smile. Prepared to politely explain that her salon didn’t accept walk-ins, she opened her mouth to speak, but the words vanished.
His was the last face she expected to see in here.
Rather than his uniform, Edwards wore a pair of excellently fitted jeans. The white V-neck paired with a couple silver chains exposed the beautiful hard lines of his chest. His biceps swelled the fabric around his arms.
Simone’s belly flipped.
Silly. Pathetic. How could her mind even drift in that direction with everything else going on right now?
Still, she said, “Hey, you. Do you need an appointment?”
His tone was just as friendly, despite the pinch of grief in his eyes. “I’m sure you would do an excellent job on my head, but it would cause all kinds of family drama with my barber if I switched up on him.”
“Well, we don’t want that.” Simone leaned against the checkout counter, grabbing her broom from behind it. She felt her hip pop out at the side in something of a pose. “Not here to snuff out the competition, are you?”
“I was just telling him, ‘Uncle, you hog all the male clients in this town. Don’t you think you should refer a few to poor Simone down the street?’” Simone laughed, and he smiled. Only for half a second. Then it fell. “I’m actually here about your friend. Delilah?”
Any playfulness in Simone’s expression vanished as well. She found herself leaning on the broom for support instead. “Oh. Right.”
“Yeah, I tried to talk to Gwen yesterday, and I shot her a text this morning, but she seems to be taking it really hard.”
“She didn’t want to talk to me either. I’m pretty sure she was with Sebastian last night if you really need her, though.” Frowning, Simone went back to sweeping up the hair trimmings on the black-and-white checkered tile. “But if there’s anything I can do to help, I’m all ears.”
“I’m not sure yet. Really, I just…” He smacked his lips together, lifting and lowering his shoulders. “I don’t think Gwen is wrong. From what I saw of Delilah, she seemed really happy. Were you guys close?”
“We’re friends.” Simone realized she used the present tense a moment too late. So did Edwards, but he didn’t correct her. “But kind of casual friends, if that makes sense? We sat together at group, we ate in the dining hall together sometimes, but never just me and her. It was always with Gwen. Gwen and Delilah were way closer.”
“That was what it looked like to me too.” Edwards leaned over the reception desk, brown eyes somewhere in the distance. “You didn’t happen to see Delilah two nights ago, did you?”
“I did, actually.” Simone returned to the reception counter, standing on the opposite side to face him. “Me, Junie, Gwen, and Delilah had a dinner get-together. Why do you ask?”
He nibbled on his lower lip for a heartbeat or two. His eyes scanned her, as if surveying for something. “What she was wearing… when she was found… it seemed odd to me. I’m curious if it’s what she wore the last time you saw her. I do have some photos on my phone, but I’m not sure if that’s too sensitive.”
Simone’s stomach clenched. “I mean, is it just her clothes? Or is it… you know. Her?”
“Yeah, it’s her, but her face isn’t in it. But if it’s too hard, I can show Rhiannon, and?—”
“No, it’s okay.” It wasn’t. Not really. After David, Simone didn’t do well with death. But Rhiannon loved all her girls more than the clouds loved the sky. It was better that she see this than Rhiannon. “I can handle it.”
Nodding slowly, Edwards dug around in his pocket. He came out with the phone and swiped around on it. He offered it to Simone. “Those pants, and those shoes. Is that the sort of thing Delilah would’ve worn?”
At first, they looked like only that. With the flash of the photography, the navy-blue sweatpants and black-and-white sneakers were all that was visible. It was only when she zoomed in closer to look at the shoes that she realized?—
They weren’t flat on the ground. They weren’t laying at an angle on a tabletop.
They were floating midair.
She was hanging. Delilah was hanging.
Simone had to swallow the vomit that burned her esophagus. She zoomed in on the photo, studying the emblem on the shoes. “I mean, yeah, she wore tennis shoes all the time. But these don’t look familiar to me. Are they brand-name?”
“Nike Air Force Ones.” Holding out his hand for the phone, Edwards clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Expensive. They also seem a little big on her. I know that everybody gets donations at the ranch from the community closet, but Delilah didn’t seem to be the type to care about quality sneakers. I doubt she would’ve taken them just because they were there, especially if they weren’t her size.”
