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her of speaking for a moment. “You paid by the hour before?”
    “Yeah, I did.” His mouth twitched. “I’ll be back in five minutes and then we’ll figure everything out, all right?”
    Five minutes would be plenty of time to hightail it out of there. She could run a block or two if she didn’t see a cab right off, then she’d go to her car and retrieve the painting. She’d hide it at her house, or maybe even take it with her to ballet. She’d find a hotel—a much nicer hotel—to stay in for now. Everything would work out.
    She’d be extra careful until her father returned from wherever he was. As long as she stayed one step ahead of the goons, she’d be fine.
    She pasted on a smile. “All right.”

Chapter Four
     
    Makeup went a long way to conceal the ugly bruises on her face and neck. Rebecca added the last pin to the tidy bun on the top of her head and lightly sprayed her hair with holding spray.
    She stuffed her bulky pink tutu into her duffle bag and pulled grey sweatpants on over her tights. The light pink leotard was an old favorite. It was worn and comfortable and always lifted her spirits when they needed lifting. This was one of those times. Between the leotard and her old, reliable ballet shoes, her night seemed to be improving. She put the shoes in her duffle as well and slipped on tennis shoes.
    She felt normal grabbing the keys to her car, normal walking out her front door—giving a wide berth to a spider she saw crawling in the driveway—and sliding into the driver’s seat. She’d started off her day by getting snatched outside the gym, being shot at, and jumping into a speeding boat. Now she was heading to Friday night dance class, she mused, pulling out onto the street. No wonder her head ached.
    The drive to the studio was short and uneventful. Rebecca took an alternative route just in case someone was waiting somewhere along the road for her. She’d had the painting for two months now, and each Friday during that time, she had gone to the same dance class, on the same night, at the same time, and driving the same route. If someone had been watching her, they’d know exactly how to get her.
    In all probability, the goons were still looking for her in Lakewood. They wouldn’t think she would go about her normal schedule with the painting still in her possession—and if they did show up, she wouldn’t be caught by surprise again. It may have been smarter for her to have skipped town, but the upcoming recital was too important to her.
    After sneaking out of the flea-ridden hotel, Rebecca had grabbed a cab and gone straight to her car. To her amazement, it was there, untouched, with the painting still wrapped in the sheet and hidden beneath the false bottom for her spare tire in her trunk. So she had left the painting there.
    Whoever wanted the painting had searched her bedroom. They hadn’t made a mess, but her tidy and organized bedroom had definitely been investigated. The clothes in her closet were pushed aside; some had fallen off their hangers. Shoe boxes were scattered. Whoever had looked under her bed hadn’t let the bed skirt fall back down or smoothed her sheets like she knew Mary had done that morning before Rebecca had dismissed her for the week.
    Seeing all her things intact lifted her spirits. She half-expected to come home to broken windows and ruined possessions. Maybe things were finally looking up.
    She parked in front of the studio and saw her friend Brittany standing on the front steps talking on her cell phone. Rebecca’s mood instantly lightened. She and Brittany weren’t close, but they shared a passion for dancing and Thai food. Brittany’s fair hair was short and curly, the opposite of Rebecca’s long, dark fall of hair. She was taller than Rebecca and carried curves that Rebecca envied.
    Brittany closed her phone and glanced her way, giving her a friendly smile.
    “Hey, girl. I missed you at lunch today. I thought you always hit up Sloan’s on