Page 15 of Her Magic Light

“What’s going on?” She clutched the front of her shirt briefly. I’d never seen her look afraid, but fear was etched into the lines of her face. “I’ve paid all of my taxes.”

I stared at her. “Taxes? You think this is because of small-town taxes?”

Bess shrugged. “Could be.”

“What kind of establishment do you run here, Bess? How much money are you raking in?”

She gave me a long look.

Finally, I said, “I wouldn’t worry about those. They’re most likely here about the body in the basement.”

Her mouth fell open, and she gaped at me.

“I’m kidding.”

Bess didn’t look like she believed me.

I glanced around the salon and at the open front door. “Where did Helen go anyway?”

“She made a run for it on the street, I think,” Bess replied. “She definitely wasn’t hanging around.” Her eyes widened as she looked at the doorway. “Oh. Wait. No, there she is.” When she raised a finger to point, her hand shook.

I followed the direction of her finger, and I froze. Yep, there was Helen, only now she was barking instructions at men crouched behind open car doors, and she held a gun. She seemed to call out some instructions, but it was hard to hear her words over the helicopter. Her lips moved, though, and her face was tense, the muscles tight.

Two of the men charged forward, their guns held out in front of them, their heads swiveling from side-to-side as they kept their knees bent to walk into the salon. They stopped in the middle of the waiting room, and their expressions could have been etched in stone.

“Are we being raided?” Bess’s eyes were as wide as they could be, and she looked like she still couldn’t believe this was happening. “Is this a raid?”

“No, ma’am.” The first man through the door removed his sunglasses and stood straighter. “Now, everyone, stay where you are and no one needs to get hurt.”

Bess inhaled a quick breath and exhaled a long, shaky one. “Shit.” Her hands formed fists at her sides. “Everyone hold still.”

“Ms. Meira White.” I met the man’s gaze, the piercing blue eyes familiar as he spoke my name. He looked grumpy, like time had worn his frown lines into his face, but he wasn’t old. Maybe only a few years older than me. No more than ten, I amended. No more than ten years between us.

“Yes?” My voice held strong and steady.

“Come with us.” He gestured to the other man alongside him as he saidus.

The other man had already removed his dark glasses, and he smiled, managing to look completely approachable, even though he still had a gun pointed at me. He was older than the first man, but I guessed not by much.

Helen entered the salon behind them.

I looked directly at her. “What the hell is going on? Why are you in here pointing guns at us?”

She didn’t reply, but her eyes were colder than they’d been the whole time she’d pretended to be a customer. “Apprehend her.” She barked the order at the two men. “I’ve been observing her and her work, and she’s definitely our target.”

“Her hair’s different,” the older man observed, but his posture didn’t relax, and neither did his grip on his gun.

Helen tutted. “She’s a colorist in a hair salon, Locke. Have you ever seen color like it? We’re taking her in.”

Bess’s most recent customer was still in the chair facing the mirror, perm solution working on her hair, a cooling coffee on the narrow shelf in front of her. I didn’t recognize the woman, but she’d long since dropped her magazine to the floor at her side.

“What has Meira done?” she asked, but her voice was filled only with curiosity and the need for gossip. “Did she kill a man?”

I rolled my eyes. Of course she wasn’t outraged on my behalf. No, she wanted the best story from her front row view. A sigh escaped me. It would be all over Sweetwater within a few minutes of my being led away.

Bess edged closer and gripped my forearm like she could prevent me from leaving or being taken, and I took a small, protective sidestep in front of her. These men had guns, and it was me they wanted.

“Bess,” I said. “Let me go.” She squeezed my arm tighter.

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