Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series) by Tracie Ingersoll Loy Page A

lip to keep from laughing. Not much had changed from last night. Maybe what she should have asked her was, “What was the date you met Jack Wyatt?”
    Montana turned into her driveway and slowed her car to a crawl. The old two-story farmhouse sat back from the road. “This is where I live.”
    “I don’t remember this.” Cassie peered out of the windows.
    “But why would you, unless you were pedaling around on your bike. It’s in the middle of the island.” Montana parked next to the back door. “Everything we need is up in the attic. I’ll need your help hauling the boxes down.”
    She didn’t wait for a reply because she knew none was forthcoming. Montana hopped out of her old Saab, unlocked the door, and waited for Cassie to join her.

    Cassie wondered what to expect when she walked into Montana’s home. From her comments, she seemed similar to Madame Sofia in Los Angeles, which might not be a bad thing since she’d saved her from the FBI raid.
    “Welcome to my home.” Montana smiled and gestured her in.
    Cassie couldn’t have been more wrong in her expectations. Bright bold colors were everywhere, with a ton of windows and French doors leading out onto a courtyard that was filled with rhododendrons, bird baths, and wind chimes. A large butcher block table sat near the window, surrounded by chairs.
    “Wow, this is lovely.” She smiled, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. “I smell?”
    “Lavender. I’m drying it in the front room. I’ll give you a quick tour.” When Montana finished, they were on the second floor standing by a door that led up to the attic. “We can either haul the boxes down or go through them up there.”
    Cassie stared up the steep, narrow stairs. “Let’s sort through them up there. I’m feeling cautious.”
    Montana laughed. “Good idea.”
    The attic was high enough you didn’t need to worry about hitting your head. Montana pulled out two boxes and handed one to Cassie.
    “You have the wigs, and I have the costume wear.”
    They sat down and started sorting through them.
    “What exactly do you do?” Cassie asked, holding up a platinum blond wig. She pulled it on and tucked her hair under it. “You mentioned something about role playing and stuff.”
    “In addition to my botanical farm, I mend broken souls.”
    “Oh.” That was not the answer she expected.
    Cassie waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. An odd feeling settled in her stomach. Montana stared at her, smiling. Not wanting to be put on the spot, she swished the blond wig to let it fly.
    “So what do you think?” Cassie found a mirror in her box and studied her reflection. A couple of times she’d thought about taking the plunge and going blond.
    “I find when people play around with the wigs, it allows them to be someone else that is hidden away. Maybe someone more enticing and less inhibited, like with flirting and sex. Try this strawberry blond one and see if you feel a difference.”
    Cassie adjusted the hair and studied her image. It was different, and she didn’t expect it. She’d always been her original color, sable to almost pitch black, but maybe she shouldn’t have.
    “Sassy. Definitely flirty. Sexual.”
    She replaced it with the blond one to compare. Montana handed her black framed glasses, which she put on. Cassie laughed when she saw her image.
    “Stripper. I could see a strip act going on.” She played around with the glasses and expressions. “What’s weird is I should have known all this.”
    “Why?”
    Cassie shrugged. “I just should have, that’s all.” Tugging off the wig, she put it aside and continued to sort through the box.
    “What do you want to be?” Montana asked. Cassie looked at her sharply. “You know, walking on the beach. What color?”
    “Oh. I see. Do you have any gray wigs? I could be an old woman.”
    “No, but we can stop off at the variety store and get gray hair spray. Halloween is coming, and they should have supplies in. Pull out some