Page 20 of Done Dirty

“Because I’m stewing in my own soup pot.”

“I just want to make sure you’re not going to pass out again. That scared ten years off my life.”

“Totally normal at this stage of pregnancy,” I said as we passed in front of the market Wade had shopped at the night before. “I’m growing a human. The body takes time to adjust. And you caught me before I hit the ground. You’re a hero.” I stopped in my tracks and Jack had to turn around to see why. “Those peaches look good. We should get some.”

“We can stop on the way back,” he said. “We probably need more than peaches. I think Doug is coming back from visiting his mom. He wants to show Oscar the fireworks.”

Oscar was the newest member of our family. He was a dog with a lot of personality, zero pedigree, and no income. He’d shown up in our yard one day and never left, so we adopted him. Kind of like we had with Doug.

Jack pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call in a warrant for the studio while we walk. Might as well take a look around while we’re there.”

“And I’m going to window-shop,” I said. “Newcastle has really come a long way from when we were kids.”

He made the call while I looked at a window display of mannequins wearing trench coats and wide-brimmed red fedoras. I wondered if Carmen Sandiego was about to make a comeback. I could hear him talking to Martinez as we made our way down the sidewalk. By the time we reached the corner he was finished with the call.

“How long?” I asked.

“A few minutes,” he said. “Martinez was already on top of things.”

Form and Flow Pilates was on the opposite corner next to a Salata. A lash salon, a blowout bar, and Vitalia Spa completed the block.

“That’s the medical spa Paige works at,” I said, pointing a couple of doors down.

“Convenient,” Jack said. “He picked a perfect spot for business.”

“No kidding. It’s like a rich girl’s paradise. Leave Pilates in your cute leotard and just make your way down the line of shops until you become a whole new person.”

The studio’s front windows were floor-to-ceiling glass, but the lobby was the only thing visible from the street. A bamboo wall protected the workout area from prying eyes, along with a chest-high reception desk and an area where workout clothes and rows of socks were displayed. Greenery balanced the space so it looked minimalist, but cozy.

Jack opened the door and I walked in ahead of him. The studio smelled like bergamot and rubber and the faint ghost of exertion that no amount of ventilation could quite eliminate. A class was already in session beyond the bamboo partition. I could hear the soft whir of reformers and a woman’s voice counting through a sequence, while Bruno Mars blasted through the speakers.

The woman behind the reception desk looked up when we came in. She was late forties, dark hair pulled back in a sleek knot, wearing black yoga pants and a fitted studio T-shirt with the Form and Flow Pilates logo on the chest. She was a pretty woman, with flawless, unlined skin, full lips, and the kind of face that didn’t match her age by a good decade.

I found myself wondering what kind of work she’d had done, though whatever it was it had been well done.

Her eyes were dark and steady, and there was a slight tension around her mouth.

“Sheriff Lawson,” Jack said, holding up his badge. “This is Dr. Graves. You have a few minutes?”

“Is this about Wade?” She came around the desk and shook our hands. “I’m the studio manager. Dana Ashworth. He’s never not come into work before without letting me know ahead of time. I’ve been really worried.”

“I’m sorry to tell you that Wade Rivers is dead,” Jack said softly, so no one behind the bamboo wall could hear him.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re kidding,” she said. “There’s just no way Wade could be dead. I saw him yesterday when he left the studio. He was fine.”

“What time was that?” Jack asked.

“A little after six. That’s when the last class ended. I shut things down and we both left at the same time.”

“He say anything about meeting anyone?”

“No,” she said. “He headed toward his condo like usual, and I went to my car.”

“What’d you do when he didn’t show up this morning?” Jack asked.

“I usually get here around ten till seven,” she said. “He’s always here before me. When I arrived the door was still locked and a couple of the women were waiting to get inside. I unlocked the door and went about turning the lights and music on. The closer it got to seven the more worried I started to get. I sent a couple of texts to Wade, but he didn’t answer.”

Her voice caught and she looked down at her hands, wringing them together.