Page 16 of Shadow Dance

She shrugs. “Could be better. I needed to get out of the house.”

“Gotcha.” Can’t say I blame her. “Where exactly am I bringing you?”

“A Piloga class.”

“A what?” I glance at her outfit again.

“Piloga. It’s Pilates mixed with yoga,” she explains.

“Interesting,” I say. “Is that what you do in the room with the bar?”

“You noticed that, huh,” she says with a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I do yoga in there. And Pilates. I dance, if I can. But I miss being in a classroom.”

“You been dancing a long time?”

“My whole life.”

“Do you think you’ll go back to it?”

“That’s my goal,” she says. “As soon as my ankle’s fully healed.”

“You miss it,” I say.

“Every day,” she says, and the tremble in her voice tells me that’s the truth. “I’ve never gone this long without dancing.”

It’s just like I thought. She’s been miserable, not just because of her dysfunctional relationship with Cal, but because she can’t do the one thing she wants to.

We fall silent, our default mode. After a moment, Maeve reaches for the a/c vent, turning it toward her. Her cheeks are pink.

“Are you hot?” I ask, turning up the a/c. September is the Bay’s warmest month, although I still find it pretty mild.

“No, I …” She shakes her head, turning her attention to the window. “I’m okay.”

The fog is thick this morning. Pretty to look at it, formidable to drive in. Switching on the fog lights, I slow for a hairpin turn. It’s like driving through a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.

The Pilates/yoga studio is between a smoke shop and a bakery, not too far from UC Berkeley. The cloying scent of incense twines with the pleasantly yeasty smell of fresh bread, filling my car when Maeve opens the door. “I’ll be done in about an hour,” she says, swinging her backpack on.

“I’ll come in with you.” Turning the car off, I step out onto the street.

“That’s really not necessary,” she says, turning to go.

But it is. I follow her inside, briefly scoping out the place as Maeve talks to the woman at the front desk. Then I follow them down the hallway, leaving only once I’m satisfied that everything seems legit. Maeve’s ignoring me by this point, but that’s okay. I’m not here for her to like me, no matter how pretty she is.

Returning to my car, I pull away from the curb and park across the street so I can check in with Leo Oliveras on my burner. I don’t contact him very often, but he and Cedro know I’ve been traveling with Cal and will want details.

After a quick debriefing, I hit up a specialty electronics store further down the block. Cal’s security system was remarkably basic for someone in his position, so I played into his paranoia and suggested he upgrade it. He went for it right away, asking if I knew anyone who could hook him up, and lucky for him, I did—me. I’ve been keeping an eye on things since then, but the patio camera recently went down so I’m grabbing a new one.

I find what I need at the electronics shop and return to the car,keeping an eye on the studio across the street. People begin pouring out around the time she said her class would be over, but when five minutes turns to ten and Maeve doesn’t appear, I lock my car and venture inside. The woman at the crystal-encrusted desk gives me a bright smile, bracelets jingling as she pushes her hair back. “Welcome to Lotus & Light,” she says. “How can I help you?”

I hide a smirk at the thought of taking one of those classes, folded like a pretzel. “I’m here to pick someone up. Is class over?”

“Our Piloga class did just let out,” she says. “But sometimes people stay for extra instruction. You’re welcome to have a seat and wait. Would you like some tea?”

“No thanks.” I look past her, at the glass hallway beyond the reception area. Maeve wouldn’t have come out on her own and left, would she? Suddenly I’m kicking myself for lingering in that electronics store. “Maybe you saw her? She was wearing a pink sweater. About this tall.”

“I’m not sure. It can get a little crazy around here.” The woman stands, cocking her head. “Would you like to take a peek inside? See if you can spot her?”

“Sure, why not,” I say, tamping down my irritation. Not at this woman, but at Maeve. Lateness is a pet peeve of mine. I’m annoyed at myself, though, too. I should’ve kept an eye on that door.

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