“Millie?” Hobbs encouraged.
She pursed her lips. “I don’t remember her with a man at all. I’ve told you everything I know. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Without another word, she swept off to do said work.
Solange crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m super sorry she’s so rude. She’s not so bad once you get to know her, but she can come off as kinda snotty at first.”
I smiled. But all I could think was, no kidding. “It’s fine, Solange. Listen, if you think of anything else, will you give me a call or a text?” I handed her my phone so she could add her number
She bobbed her head, typing in her number. “You bet I will. And hey, if you see Kerry, tell her I said I hope she’s okay. And your uncle, too. I hope he’s okay, too.”
Hobbs nodded at her, putting his hand at my waist. “Thanks, Solange. We’ll pass it on.”
We didn’t have a lot, but we had more than we came in with. The University of Virginia. That was something. Not a lot of something, but something.
As we headed out the door and down the steps, I turned to Hobbs, who had his face buried in his phone as he walked.
“The University of Virginia.” Hobbs held up his phone. “Did his hoodie look like this in your vision?” He showed me the emblem for the University of Virginia and I stopped dead in my tracks.
“That’s exactly it!” But my excitement quickly faded. “But now what?”
And so what? Now we’d added to our pile of clues with no connections.
“Miss Valentine? Wait! Miss Valentine!”
I turned to find Solange running after us with no coat, her pink hair tipped with the falling snow. “Yes?”
She shivered as the frosty wind blew. “I thought of something else about that guy.”
My ears perked up. “What’s that?”
“This is gonna sound stupid, but he talked funny. I can’t explain it, but it was like he had an accent or something.”
How curious. “An accent? British? French?”
“Southern like mine?” Hobbs asked.
But she shrugged as she rubbed her bare arms, now turning red from the cold. “I don’t know. I’m not good with stuff like that. I only volunteer here because my dad says it’ll look good on my college resume. I’m not much of a reader or anything, and Millie’s awful as you already saw, but I put up with it because of my dad. Anyway, I just know he had a weird way of turning a phrase.”
I peered at her through the lightly falling snowflakes, my head starting to throb. “Do you remember what he said?”
She wrinkled her freckled nose. “Shoot. I wish I could, but I just remember thinking it was really strange and a little dorky.”
Hobbs ran a hand over his jaw. “Did you ever see him come in with anyone else, or just Kerry?”
“Just Kerry. But if I remember what he said or think of anything else, I’ll text you, okay? I’d better get back in there or Millie’s head’s gonna pop right off.”
“Go,” I ordered with a grateful smile. “It’s freezing out here. And thanks, Solange. You’ve been a big help.”
As she turned and ran back into the library, Hobbs beeped his Jeep. “Talked funny…” he murmured. “That could mean a lot of things.”
I squeezed my throbbing temples before blowing my nose. “Yep. It sure could. I only wish I knew what those things were.”
He glanced over at me as he positioned his tall frame in the driver’s seat. “You’re not feeling well, Hal. Let me take you home.”
“Not on your life, Cowboy. How do you feel about driving to Jasmine Franks’s house in Chowder River and asking her mother some questions she probably won’t want to answer?”
He backed out of the parking space and headed out of the library parking lot. “I feel fine about it. It’s you who doesn’t feel fine. And how’d you find an address on her anyway?”
“I didn’t.” I held up my phone and showed off her Facebook page. “I found the hair salon where she works. She posted on Facebook today and made the mistake of adding her location. So we’ll be busting in on her place of work, but it’s worth a shot if she gives us something that can help.”
He fluffed his hair in comical fashion and batted his eyelashes. “My ends are pretty split, don’t you think? I think my ends are split. I think I should get my hair did.”
Laughing out loud made me sneeze and groan. “I’ll happily buy if you take the hit.”
He held out his fist for me to bump. “I still think you should be at home in bed, but go Team Hah.”
My brow furrowed and I tucked my jacket around with the sudden onset of the chills. “Hah? What is that?”
“Our names shipped together, silly filly. Hal and Hobbs equals Hah.”
That made me laugh so hard I had a coughing fit.
But when I was with Hobbs, I laughed a lot.
So far, no regrets over telling him about my visions.
None at all.
By the time we entered the tiny beauty salon, You Are Hair, in Chowder River, I was feeling right crummy. My head felt like 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?”