The officer pulled a clear evidence bag from his belt, revealing a heavy pair of professional, antique salon shears stamped with a prominent silver crest.
“Yesterday afternoon, a high-end wig boutique down on 5th Street reported a burglary,” the officer said, his voice grave. “Someone bypassed their security system, stole four thousand dollars’ worth of unprocessed natural hair extensions, and took these custom shears off the master desk.”
My head spun as I looked over at Ava, who was staring down at her sneakers, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
“The salon’s surveillance cameras caught a teenager in a grey hoodie,” the officer continued. “And the hair used in that wig you’re holding didn’t just come from your daughter’s head—it matches the inventory stolen from the shop.”
“No… that’s impossible,” I stammered, holding onto the edge of the principal’s desk to steady my trembling knees. “She told me she went to a hairstylist!”
“Ava,” I choked out, tears swelling in my eyes. “Tell them it’s a mistake. Where did you really get the wig?”
What secret had Ava been keeping? Continue reading Part 3 below to uncover the truth.
