someone had shoved an entire pillow between my ears and my nose dripped like a faucet.
But I was determined to get Jasmine Franks’s mother, Sienna—a single parent living paycheck to paycheck, according to the GoFundMe set up for a search for Jasmine—to talk to me.
The salon was small but adorable, with mirrors lining each wall and posters of the latest hair fashions, the smell penetrating even my stuffy nose.
I saw her immediately. A tall, graceful woman with long limbs and shoulder-length hair so dark and shiny, I’d bet I could see my reflection in it. She looked a great deal like Jasmine, who’s picture was proudly displayed at her station. They stood side by side, their cheeks pressed together, smiling at what I guessed was her high school graduation.
She smiled at us and waved us back as she finished up with an older woman who headed toward the small receptionist desk, grabbing a broom to sweep the pile of hair on the floor. “Can I help you two?”
“My name is Halliday Valentine, and this is Hobbs Dainty. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
Instantly, she stiffened, and I can’t say as I blame her. I’d bet plenty of people had approached her since Westcott Morgan’s article came out.
“About?” she asked, her tone defensive.
“About your daughter and Kerry Carver,” Hobbs said.
She blinked, her beautifully made-up eyes instantly suspicious as she leaned against the broom handle. “Are you reporters? Because if you have anything to do with that article, where that chump all but called me Little Orphan Annie, I have nothing to say to you. Nothing at all. I work hard. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. It might not be much, but I’ve worked for every cent, and I didn’t cotton to being called economically disadvantaged. I’m not onboard the pity train.”
“No, ma’am,” Hobbs said, his accent exceptionally pronounced. “It’s nothing like that. Nothing at all. I’m sure you’ve heard about the shooting at Feeney’s and about Kerry Carver, who turned up last night in Marshmallow Hollow?”
She stopped moving at all then and looked at Hobbs with less of a glare. “You mean about how they found her lipstick at the convenience store?”
“Yes, ma’am. Hal’s uncle was involved in that shooting, which is why we’re here.”
Thankfully, Hobbs took the reins on this one and explained why we were interrupting her day. When he was done, her entire attitude changed. “I’m so sorry, Miss Valentine. And believe me, I wish I could help, but I don’t have much more than I told the police, who, as you know, were about as much help as a poke in the eye.”
My heart hurt for her. “And I’m sick to death over that, Miss Franks. I’m sorry you were treated so horribly. I’d like to try and find out as much as I can to help find your daughter and Lisa Simons.”
She clucked her tongue at me, jamming her hands in the pockets of her hairdresser’s jacket. “To think because she’s an adult, she’s not worthy of a search party? I couldn’t believe my ears, and everything we’ve done since they basically told me my girl wasn’t worth their time has been done by me…by her friends.”
“I agree a hundred percent with you,” I assured her. “Some of the rules for a missing person are ridiculous, but with Kerry Carver found, maybe she can help.”
Her posture relaxed, and her next question told me that she wasn’t holding grudges about how the police had handled her daughter’s disappearance. “How is she, the poor thing? They said she was pretty beat up.”
Hobbs drove his hands into his jacket and shook his head. “We don’t know much yet, Miss Franks. She’s still unconscious. But we did learn a thing or two at a library Kerry went to, and we thought maybe if we told you what we learned, it might trigger a memory—something—anything that can help?”
“C’mon to the back where we can sit. You, young lady, look positively green. I’ve got a cup of hot tea with your name on it.”
I felt positively green, but I followed her to the back where there was a small table, a refrigerator, and shelves of hair dye and shampoo.
We each took a seat as Hobbs told her about our conversation with Solange while she made me some tea, but Sienna shook her head. “I don’t know anything about a boyfriend, or anything like that at all. The police kept making it sound like Jasmine ran off with some boy, but