JJ
Mrs. Taylor looked smaller through the security camera than she did in person. Maybe it was the way she stood with both hands wrapped around the strap of her purse, shoulders drawn inward while she stared up at the shop sign. Maybe it was because every time I saw her now, she seemed to be carrying another piece of Kinsley’s disappearance with her.
I unlocked the front door before opening time and waved her inside. Her eyes moved over the shop slowly, taking in the charcoal wall, the waiting chairs, the station lights, and the reception counter before settling on Stitch’s empty station.
For half a second, I wondered whether she was thinking the same thing I was.
Kinsley would have had an opinion about everything. She would have told me one light was too warm, complained that Stitch’s
