The Bad Daughter(75)
“Anything in particular?”
“No. You pick.”
“Okay. I’ll do my best. We’ll see you soon.” Robin hung up the phone as Blake closed his laptop. “Melanie’s not going to be happy.”
“Is she ever?”
“She hates surprises.”
“She hates everything. You going to call her?”
“No,” Robin said. “The day is young. Why spoil it so early?”
“You’re learning,” said Blake, with a smile.
Melanie had been in a bad mood when she woke up, and it had only worsened as the morning progressed. It reached its peak when Alec decided to tag along with her and Landon to Donny Warren’s ranch. “What?” he’d said. “I like horses. And your lover invited me.” Melanie’s only response had been steely silence. They’d left about an hour ago, and Robin wasn’t sure what time they would be back.
Melanie had refused to comment further about her relationship with Donny, saying only that he’d told Landon he could call him whenever he was agitated and felt like going for a ride, either on horseback or on the back of his motorcycle. Apparently Donny suffered from insomnia as a result of his time in Afghanistan, so he had said that Landon was free to call him anytime, day or night. “How do you know he suffers from insomnia unless you’ve been spending the night?” Alec had asked. The daggers that shot from Melanie’s eyes gave new meaning to the phrase “if looks could kill.”
“You don’t have to come to the hospital with me,” Robin told Blake now.
“You don’t want me to come?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
Robin took a deep breath. “I want you to come.”
* * *
—
Trendsetters was a small, upscale boutique located on Main Street between an old-fashioned hardware store and a modern hairdressing salon, directly across the street from the gold-domed clock tower. The shop was relatively new, having opened sometime in the last five years. “I don’t know,” Robin said, surveying the off-the-shoulder tops and short skirts on the mannequins in the window. “All these clothes seem a little too old for Cassidy.”
“Let’s have a look.” Blake held the door open for her.
A young woman approached even before the door was fully closed. She was in her early twenties, tall and slender, with waist-length brown hair and makeup that was several shades too orange for her complexion. Her eyelashes were so laden with mascara that Robin wondered how she managed to keep her eyes open. “Hi. I’m Miranda,” she said in greeting. “Can I help you?”
Robin took a quick glance around the brightly lit store. It was nicely laid out, with clothes hanging along both sides of the wide room, and three tables containing a variety of folded items running up the center. At the rear of the shop, a salesgirl was sharing a joke with a customer whose headband-secured bouffant blond hairdo was reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. “I’m not sure,” Robin said. “We’re looking for something for a young girl. Your stuff seems a little, I don’t know, maybe too mature.” She noted that Miranda was wearing a loose-fitting lime-green top and a pair of yellow-and-green-patterned shorts that were for sale on the first table.
“Oh, no,” Miranda said quickly. “We get lots of teenagers in here.”
“She’s twelve.”
Miranda looked unconcerned. “What size is she?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Is she tall, thin, heavyset…?”
“She’s shorter than me, around five feet three or four, I guess. Kind of delicate-looking, weighs maybe ninety-five pounds soaking wet. She’s twelve,” Robin repeated, as if this said it all.
“Sounds like a size zero. What sort of style does she like?”
“I have no idea. She just said that she likes your stuff.”
“Really? Who is she? If she shops here, I probably know her.”
Robin hesitated. “Her name is Cassidy.”
Miranda’s eyes widened, despite their many coats of mascara. “Are you talking about Cassidy Davis?”
For a second, Robin considered lying. But how many Cassidys could there be in a city the size of Red Bluff? “Yes.”
“Of course I know Cassidy. She’s in here all the time. Loves our clothes. How’s she doing?”
“Much better. She’s actually being released…”
“That’s so great,” Miranda said without waiting for Robin to finish the sentence. She pivoted toward the back of the store. “Tiffany, did you hear that? Cassidy Davis is getting out of the hospital.”
“Are you kidding?” Tiffany squealed in response.
“The little girl who was shot?” her customer asked, turning around so that Robin could see her face.
Not Alice in Wonderland.
Shit.
“Terri Glover,” she said, her heart sinking as the woman approached. Terri Glover was the most notorious busybody in Red Bluff. “Nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has. And I traded in a Glover for a Norris two years ago, so it’s Terri Norris now. How are you?”
“I’m okay.”