Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Relaxer Can Be Murder

Dara ducked under the yellow tape. She couldn’t believe she was about to do it. If something went wrong, she would no doubt be charged with obstruction of some sort. But she had to do it, for Macy’s sake. Besides, an officer of the court had entrusted her with the key. So technically, she had permission, sort of. The bronze key felt cold between her fingers. She looked over her shoulder and was pleased to see that she was the only one there.
She was surprised at how fast her heart thumped. Maybe it was because she knew she was breaking the law, or the impending doom that possibly waited for her on the other side of the door. Deep in her gut, she knew she was about to make a huge mistake, but the key was practically in the lock. It would be cowardice for her to turn back. Twenty questions rattled off in her head, number one being: what are you doing, dummy? Unfortunately, she ignored all of the signs telling her to back away.
The door opened without a sound. The salon was eerily quiet, and Dara instantly regretted being there. Fingerprint dust still covered the individual stations and cabinetry. She had no idea what to do. It was doubtful she would find out something the police hadn’t. Dara moved to Macy’s booth. It was just a few days ago that she sat in that chair and let Macy pamper her. If she had only known that would’ve been the last time she’d see her alive, maybe she would’ve stayed longer; maybe taken her out to dinner.

Chuck pulled in the space next to Dara’s car. He specifically told her to stay put. If they were ever going to have a relationship, she would have to learn to listen.

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