Stealing Taffy (Bigler, North Carolina #3) - Susan Donovan Page 0,65

thin line. “I see. So it won’t surprise you that everyone knows about your relationship with the Newberry woman, then? A woman who happens to be on felony probation, I might add.”

Dante nearly choked. “We’re not even dating. You make it sound like I’m going to marry her.”

“I said nothing of the sort—but you just did.”

Suddenly Dante saw what O’Connor was doing—she was making it easy for him to leave North Carolina before his connection to Tanyalee could become a potential problem for him. Strangely, his first instinct was to come to Tanyalee’s defense.

Dante stood up behind his desk. “Tanyalee Marie Newberry received a suspended sentence for forging her grandfather’s signature on a loan application. It isn’t like she’s a DEA informant, boss. There’s no conflict of interest here.”

“Hmm.” O’Connor crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure the administration would see it that way, Dante. Keeping company with a known criminal is against policy, and eventually you might find yourself facing consequences.”

He remained silent as a rush of anger coursed through him. “Is that a friendly heads-up or an official warning from my supervisor?”

“Ah hell, Dante.” O’Connor slumped in front of her computer and ran a hand through her straight, black hair. “I’m looking out for you. You are one hell of an agent and it’s a privilege to have you on my team, but you need to be smart.”

“I always am.”

“Great.” O’Connor grinned. “’Cause only the smart survive.”

* * *

Tanyalee crossed her legs and tried to get comfortable, but the hard plastic chairs against the front window of the Hair Apparent were not designed for comfort. Fortunately, when she’d put Fern’s name on the sign-in sheet she learned there was only a five-minute wait, which seemed quite reasonable. Fern, however, was groaning, squirming, and rolling her eyes like she was being tortured.

“Calm down, Fern.”

“I hate this place.”

Tanyalee laughed. “We just got here. How can you hate it?”

“It smells like day-old ass in here. I hate that chemical smell!”

“Fern!” Tanyalee blinked several times, not quite believing what she’d just heard. “Those are very unladylike words. Besides, it’s just the perm solution.” She grabbed one of the hairstyle magazines from a basket and handed it to her. “Thumb through this and see how you might like to get your hair styled.”

“What?” Fern’s mouth hung open. “I am not getting a perm, I don’t care what you say. I don’t want a style, either. The style I have is fine.”

“You don’t have a style.”

“I do so.”

Tanyalee cocked her head and smiled as patiently as she could. “Well, maybe it’s time for a fresh look. Why don’t you just glance at a few options?”

“Gawd!” Fern snatched the magazine and flipped through the pages so fast that the photos raced by in a blur.

Tanyalee decided not to say anything. The conversation she’d had with Bitsy Stockslager that afternoon had been shocking. She’d had no idea of the trauma this little girl had been through, and hearing the details from Bitsy made her feel sick. A mother who just disappeared without a good-bye when Fern had been a toddler. A no-good father who couldn’t keep a job but was real good at getting himself thrown in jail. There were even short stints in foster care. But then her worthless father had dragged Fern to the meth lab up in Preston Valley, ignored her, and then got himself killed in jail. What had that man been thinking? How could he have cared so little about his own child? Fern was smart. She was pretty. She was funny. And Tanyalee knew that there was a lot of pain at the bottom of all the sarcasm. Bitsy had mentioned that Fern was seeing a therapist twice a week, though she didn’t go happily.

Tanyalee had asked Bitsy for guidance. “What does she need from me?”

“She needs a true friend,” Bitsy had said. “She needs someone she can trust, someone who can show her how to set healthy boundaries for herself. But most of all, she needs someone who won’t give up on her when she pushes back. And she will push back—hard.”

“Yo! I think I’ve found just the ticket!”

The comment yanked Tanyalee back to the present. Fern held up the magazine, displaying a photo of a girl with a purple spiked Mohawk, a dragon tattoo running down her cheek, and a silver ring in her nose.

Tanyalee laughed. “If I took you home looking like that, Gladys would shake me stupid.”

“Yep, she surely would!” Fern giggled, too, delight