herself with grace and aplomb, things might work out in her favor. Samantha had already proved her value to Isla, more than she could ever know. So if Isla attended, and played her part well, it could certainly help bring in new clients.
She was under no illusion about why Samantha had invited her. Since she would be one of few locals in attendance, her appearance might go a long way in convincing other locals to vote against the property tax hike. In effect, she’d be the token townie. More importantly, she had a bully pulpit at the salon, and Samantha knew she could convince others to oppose the tax increase.
Reluctant to admit the truth, Isla knew that self-interest drove her motives. More like self-reliance. There was no doubt the schools needed upgrades. But she couldn’t afford to lose her salon because of some vendetta against all these wealthy people moving into town. These people helped her pay her bills and put food on her table. Without them, she might not be able to afford insulin for Raisin. Or pay the mortgage and property taxes. On the face of it, she knew that more tax revenue was needed to rebuild the schools’ crumbling infrastructure. She believed it was the responsibility of everyone in town to pitch in. This new tax seemed like retribution for a supposedly changing way of life, a way of life that had gone by the wayside years ago. Was she rationalizing her opposition to this tax hike? Possibly, but for good reason.
As she contemplated the invitation, she found herself falling into the same trap as had the people she’d accused of being insensitive. Willow Briggs was still missing, and all Isla could think about was expanding her business and caring for her family. Was that wrong? It wasn’t like she was out searching for Willow Briggs along with the rest of the volunteers. Then again, she couldn’t afford to live like the McCallisters, who had nothing but time and money on hand.
She blow-dried Samantha’s hair. Then she brushed it out until it looked lustrous under the salon’s fluorescent lights. Happy with the job she’d done, Isla swiveled Samantha around so that she faced the mirror. She stood behind her with the handheld and showed her the back.
“You are an artiste, Isla. It looks fabulous.”
Isla smiled and removed the cape, grateful that she’d succeeded in pleasing her most important client. Her eye caught something familiar outside as Samantha continued talking. The words coming out of her client’s mouth sounded like a foreign language to Isla’s ears. The gleaming truck cruised slowly along the downtown street. Behind the steering wheel sat Ray. Had that jerk bought a new pickup?
Samantha grabbed Isla’s palm and placed two things in it. Isla glanced up at the clock and noticed that an hour and a half had passed. The woman gave her a quick hug before scurrying out the front door. Isla stared down at the items in her palm. On top sat an ornate card inviting her to Laura Milton’s political event tomorrow night. Underneath it lay a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill—a fifty-dollar tip!
KARL
HELICOPTERS ZIPPED OVERHEAD. EVERY DAY THAT PASSED MEANT less enthusiasm, less energy, lower odds that the missing girl would still be found alive. Typically, the number of volunteers fell off gradually from one day to the next in these kinds of searches. He’d seen it happen firsthand while looking for the James kid. That search had taken place in March, when the landscape was still covered in ice and snow, making travel over the terrain more difficult. Still, he’d donned his snowshoes and done the best he could until the snow cleared and the ground thawed.
And then the spring had come and the snow had melted and the search for Dakota James had intensified. At that point, it had been over a month since the James kid had gone missing, and everyone’s enthusiasm had waned. Now tragedy had struck again. Two missing kids from the same part of town pointed to something more sinister.
Fowler Woods sat across from a sheltered cove located about a quarter mile from where the newer, pricier homes were being built. A month ago he and fellow officer Olivia Dunn had gone out there to search for Dakota James and had found nothing. Trails meandered throughout the dense woods. Many people strolled through Fowler Woods with their dogs running ahead of them or nipping at their heels. Someone surely would have seen something in all the