The scent of hair dye and fresh cosmetics filled the salon as Luna sat in the chair, watching her reflection change bit by bit. The woman staring back at her wasn’t Luna Bancroft anymore. She was someone new—someone who could get close to the killer without being recognized.
The stylist curled her now-dyed auburn hair, brushing it away from her face. “Almost done,” she said, applying a final touch of contour to sharpen Luna’s features.
Luna nodded absently, distracted as her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down. Lucas.
Her heart clenched. She hesitated, but she knew he wouldn’t stop calling until she picked up. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the answer button.
“Where have you been?” Lucas’s voice was sharp, his tone edged with something she couldn’t quite place.
Luna swallow
