AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It had been her decision to end the marriage and move to San Francisco. Rumors of a lover up there. Dance knew Anne was a talented photographer and the opportunities in the Bay City were far greater than here. She'd been a functional but unenthusiastic mother, a distant wife. The split hadn't been a surprise. Though it had certainly been inconveniently timed. Dance and O'Neil had always had an undeniable chemistry, which they let roam only professionally. He was married, and after Bill died, her interest in romance vanished like fog in sunshine. Then, over time, Dance decided for her sake and for the sake of the kids to wade into the dating pool. Slowly, feeling her way along, she met Jon Boling.
And, bang, O'Neil announced his divorce. Not long after, he asked her out. By then she and Boling were tight, however, and she'd declined.
It was a classic "Send in the Clowns" moment, the Sondheim song about two potential lovers for whom the timing just wasn't cooperating.
O'Neil, gentleman that he was, accepted the situation. And they fell into "another time, another place" mode. As for Boling--well, he said nothing about Dance's connection to the detective but his body language left no doubt he sensed the dynamic. She did her best to reassure him, without offering too much (she knew very well that the intensity of denial is often in direct proportion to the truth being refuted).
She now noted: O'Neil had his hands comfortably at his sides, not in his pockets, or clutching crossed arms, both of which would be defensive gestures that meant: I just don't want you here, Anne. Nor was he glancing involuntarily to his right or left, which was a manifestation of tension and discomfort and of a subconscious desire to flee from the person creating the stress.
No, they were, in fact, smiling. Something she said made him laugh.
Then Anne backed away, fishing keys from her purse, and O'Neil stepped closer and hugged her. No kiss, no fingers cupping her hair. Just a hug. Chaste as soccer players after scoring a goal.
Then he waved to the children and returned to the office. Anne fired up the SUV. She drove toward the exit.
And Dance suddenly recalled something else. The other night when she'd asked about O'Neil's new babysitter, his body language had changed.
"New sitter?"
"Sort of."
So that's who it was. And would Anne also be the "friend" he'd mentioned in response to the invite to Maggie's recital? Probably.
Dance watched the sleek SUV pull out of the lot.
Then a brief honk from behind the Pathfinder. Dance started. She glanced into the rearview mirror and waved at the driver she'd been blocking, whispering a "Sorry" that he couldn't hear. She headed to the CBI building, parked and climbed out.
Glancing back to where Anne's SUV had just exited, she found herself humming the song Maggie had prepared for the concert.
Let it go...
Inside headquarters she found O'Neil in her office with TJ, poring over what turned out to be DMV records.
"Five thousand, give or take, Honda sedans in the three-county area. Gray, white, beige, anything light colored."
"Five thousand?" Ouch. As she sat down beside O'Neil, she smelled his aftershave again, as last night. But it was slightly different.
Mixed with perfume?
O'Neil added, "No reports of theft."
TJ added, "And none of the other people at the club, the ones I've talked to, remember it. The wheelbase and the track, they'll give us the model. Civic and Accord're different. Might help."
Narrow the number down to 2,500, she thought wryly. If--big if--it was even the unsub's vehicle.
"Want to take a look?" O'Neil asked. "At where it was parked?"
Dance checked the time. It was three twenty. "The kids are at Mom and Dad's."
"Mine're covered too."
I know.
She said, "Let's take a drive."
"For this, it's not Serrano. You going to take a weapon?"
He knew the rules. Wondered why he'd asked. "I'm still Civ-Div."
