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“You’ve come to the right place,” she said. “Go ahead and pick your color, then have a seat and I’ll be with you shortly.”
I sat down next to one of the teenagers and pulled out my phone, checking social media as I listened to them chatter.
“She’s like, so crazy to do it at our age. We’re not even done with high school yet,” the girl farthest away was saying.
“Totally. I mean, I want to get out of here, go to college. I can’t believe she’s giving up and staying here.”
“I don’t know,” the girl closest to me said softly, probably not wanting to get the other two all stirred up by disagreeing with them. “I think it’s kind of romantic.”
“Romantic, ugh. I don’t know about you, but I want to play the field, see what’s out there, not tie myself down to one guy. Even if he is hot.”
Taking a stab in the dark, I asked, “You guys talking about Misty?”
Three shocked faces turned to me, before the loudest one narrowed her eyes and said, “Who are you?”
“Just someone concerned over a missing girl.”
Loud girl rolled her eyes.
“She’s not missing, she just left her mother’s house. Not that I blame her, that woman is a hot mess.”
“She ran away?” I pressed.
“She’s eighteen and an adult. She moved out.”
“Do you happen to know where I can find her?” I asked.
Loud girl rolled her eyes again, and I began to worry for the effect it would have on her face.
“She’s with Adrian. She’s always with Adrian. We barely even see her anymore, since he came along.”
“Do you know Adrian’s last name?” I asked.
The girl next to me gave me his name, and I looked to Clarice and said, “I’ll be back later for that mani.”
Clarice nodded, but shot me a look of disapproval.
I felt mildly guilty about coming in her place of business again, to get information for a client again, but it couldn’t be helped. Clarice’s was one of the hot spots in Greenswood. I couldn’t help it if criminals, perps, and suspects liked to get their nails done.
I made a mental note to actually come back this time and get my nails done. I didn’t want Clarice to think I was just using her and her salon for my own selfish purposes. Besides, I thought as I looked down at my ring finger, my engagement ring would pop if I had a French manicure.
I KNOCKED THREE times on the wood door, then stepped back and waited, my eyes surveying the street.
“Hello?”
I looked forward to see a pretty woman about my age standing in the doorway with a kitchen towel in her hands.
“Hi, I’m Delilah Horton, PI, and I’m looking for Misty.”
The woman nodded once, then stepped aside and said, “Come on in. We were expecting the cops, but I guess you’re close enough.”
“The cops?” I asked, walking past the woman and into her tidy living room.
“Yeah, Misty’s mom has made it no secret that she does not agree with her daughter dating our son, we figured it was only a matter of time before she did something crazy. God forbid she stand by her daughter and support her decisions.”
Why did it feel like everyone knew what was going on but me? And, why did it seem like being on the mother’s side was the wrong side of whatever this situation was?
“I was under the impression that Misty was missing. That perhaps she’d run away, or been taken against her will. Her mother hired me to find her, make sure she’s okay, and bring her home.”
