Lisbon maintained a frosty silence through most of the drive to the studio, but Jane kept sneaking glances at her from the passenger seat, and she was pretty much ready to thaw when she parked the car and he finally muttered, "Sorry I overreacted earlier. About Chris, I mean."
"It's all right," Lisbon said, relieved to have the tension broken. "Nothing happened, anyway. Don't worry about it."
Jane seemed encouraged by this. "Chris always was the best at getting the girls," he said awkwardly. "Daniel and I would be trying to outdo each other with the smoothest lines, and Chris would just slide in behind us and make off with the girl in the end."
"It was probably the glasses," Lisbon murmured absently.
Off Jane's affronted look, she added hastily, "Or the beard." She paused. "I didn't really help myself out with that one, did I?"
"The beard?" Jane said incredulously. "Really?"
Lisbon tried to explain. "Look, it's just- Chris gives off a sweet and honest vibe you and Daniel…lack."
"Sweet and honest?" Jane said in distaste.
Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Yes, Jane. These are qualities women find appealing."
He stared at her. "Do you have a crush on my brother?" he said, revolted.
Lisbon grinned suddenly. The opportunity to mess with him was too good to pass up. "Maybe just a little one," she said airily, and got out of the car.
Xxx
The studio director, Linda Windgate, met them at the front entrance. "Agent Lisbon, Mr. Jane," she said, shaking their hands. "Welcome. I understand you want to speak to the instructor and Michelle's classmates. They're just wrapping up a class now—let me show you the way."
"Thank you," Lisbon said. She and Jane followed Ms. Windgate down a long hallway.
"Do you know Michelle well?" Jane asked.
"Enough to wave hello to her," Ms. Windgate said. "I don't spend a lot of time with individual students, but I keep track of our up and comers. Michelle is definitely on that list. A very talented young lady. We're all very upset about what's happened, of course. Anything we can do to help, you just let us know."
"Is there anything unusual that stood out to you on the day Michelle went missing?" Lisbon asked.
"Not really," Ms. Windgate said doubtfully. "It seemed a fairly ordinary day. No drama amongst any of the students that I can recall, or anything like that. That's what passes for excitement around here, most of the time."
"How often does Michelle attend class here?" Lisbon asked.
"Three times a week," Ms. Windgate answered. "She's in the advanced class. Speaking of which—here we are now."
They stopped at an open door to a studio classroom, where a group of about fifteen students was completing a group of exercises in time to the instructor's calls. The instructor, a tall, athletic man surveyed his students critically as he walked around the room, adjusting an arm here, correcting posture there—all while calling out a series of words thoroughly incomprehensible to Lisbon but which she understood to be the French names of each individual movement. She picked out plié and arabesque, but that was about it. The students, on the other hand, kept perfect time with each instruction, moving in unison to the music.
The instructor's gaze landed on Jane, Lisbon, and Ms. Windgate, then strayed to the clock mounted on the wall. "All right," he called, clapping his hands together. "Time's up. Callie, please lead everyone in the usual cool down routine, and then you're free to go."
A tall, slender girl from the group stepped wordlessly forward, her head bowed, and started going through a series of stretches.
The instructor walked over to the doorway. "You must be the agents searching for Michelle," he said, extending his hand to shake Jane and Lisbon's hands. "Paul Danvers."
Danvers was a strikingly handsome man, tall and lean in a form-fitting black t-shirt that showed his toned muscles to advantage. He had black hair just graying at the templates, and bright blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
Jane and Lisbon introduced themselves and Ms. Windgate excused herself, withdrawing down the hall back to her office. Jane and Lisbon followed Danvers back into the classroom so he could grab a towel to mop the sweat from his face and neck.
"Mr. Danvers," Lisbon said. "Do you remember noticing anything the day Michelle went missing that could shed light on her disappearance?"
"I can't think of anything," Danvers said with a frown, wiping the towel against his forehead, then slinging it around his neck.
"How does Michelle get along with her classmates?" Jane asked, watching Danvers intently.
Danvers shrugged. "There's some rivalry, of course. Michelle is new to the studio, but she's one of the best students in the class. It's bound to make some of the other girls envious."
"Anyone in particular she doesn't get along with?" Jane asked, not troubling to keep his voice down.
Danvers glanced around at the students, who had finished their stretches and were now packing up their things and shooting the occasional curious glance at Jane and Lisbon. "Really, Mr. Jane. Do you suspect one of these young women of masterminding a criminal plot to kidnap their classmate because of a rivalry in an amateur ballet class?"
Jane shrugged. "Stranger things have happened." He kept his gaze fixed on Danvers. "But what about you? What's your story?"
"The oldest one in the book, I'm afraid," Danvers said, flashing a smile. "I danced for the Sacramento Ballet for six years, busted my knee, and now teach."
"And did losing your dream job and being forced to go into teaching because you had no other career prospects cause your massive ego irreparable damage that now manifests itself in acts of petty tyranny?" Jane asked conversationally.
"Jane," Lisbon reproved. "Mr. Danvers, thank you for your time. We'd like to speak to your students now."
"Sure," Danvers said, his eyes narrowing at Jane. "By all means."
He pointed out Sadie and Norah, and Jane and Lisbon crossed the room to speak to them.
They introduced themselves. Sadie, a tall girl with curly red hair said anxiously, "Have you found anything out about Michelle yet?"
"We're really worried about her," said dark-haired Norah, a quieter girl.
"Neither of you heard have heard from her since she went missing?" Lisbon asked.
"Of course not," Sadie said scornfully. "How could we have, if she was kidnapped by some psycho?"
"They probably think she ran away," Norah told her. "Those other cops did."
"We can't rule out the possibility," Lisbon acknowledged. "But we're treating this like any other missing persons case. We're trying to find proof one way or another if someone took her, or if she had an accident, or if she left on her own."
"Well, she didn't leave on her own," Sadie said categorically. "Why would she?"
"To see her old friends in L.A.?" Lisbon suggested. "Maybe meet up with an old boyfriend? You tell me."
Norah shook her head. "She wouldn't have done that. Why would she? If she wanted to go down there that badly, why wouldn't she just ask her mom? Her mom's cool. She would have let her." She hesitated. "Probably."
"What do you think happened to her?" Jane asked them.
"She was kidnapped, obviously," Sadie said in a tone that implied she didn't have a very high opinion of Jane's intelligence.
"You don't think she could have just gotten into an accident?"
Sadie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him with contempt. "If she did, why hasn't anybody found her yet? No. Some creep has her, for sure."
"What creep? Who do you think took her?"
Sadie gestured impatiently. "How am I supposed to know? Isn't that what you guys are supposed to figure out?"
"Statistically speaking, most kidnappings are perpetrated by someone who knows the victim," Lisbon pointed out. "Do you know anyone in Michelle's life who would might want to take her?"
The girls exchanged glances. "No," Norah said slowly. "But—well, she was acting kind of funny the last few days we saw her."
"Funny how?" Jane asked.
"I don't know," Norah said with a frown. "She seemed worried about something. Something big. Not like about a test or something. But she wouldn't tell us about it."
"Hm," Jane said with a frown. "Do you think it was something at school? Or something to do with the dance studio?"
Norah shook her head. "I couldn't say."
"First guess," Jane said. "Don't think about it too hard. If you had a multiple choice test where you had to pick what she was worried about, a) home, b) school, c) boys, d) dance, or e) none of the above—which would you pick? You have five seconds to choose: five, four, three, two…"
"Dance," Norah said immediately, then looked surprised at herself.
"Seriously?" Sadie said, incredulous. "Based on what?"
Norah shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. Just a feeling I had."
"She's probably just more observant than you," Jane told Sadie. "She might have picked up on microexpressions of distress in Michelle's face that you weren't paying attention to."
"Hey, I'm observant," Sadie said indignantly. She paused. "What are microexpressions?"
"I'll tell you about them later," Jane said. He turned to face the rest of the classroom, studying the group of girls variously chatting, checking their phones, stretching, and still packing their bags. "Sadie, you seem a natural born power broker. An alpha attuned to subtle shifts in power dynamics. Give me your read on the power dynamics in this class."
"What the hell?" Sadie said, giving him the side-eye.
Jane gestured expansively at the classroom. "Fifteen girls. How many unique friend groups?"
Sadie eyed the group critically. "Well, Alexis, Genevieve, Lila, and Daisy all hang out a lot. They all go to the same school and they've been dancing together since they were six. Taylor, Maria, and Violet go to different schools, but they hang out. Tasha and Janelle are friends—their moms know each other. And Eva and Sylvie usually pair together when we have small group work."
Jane's eyes landed on a lone girl in a far corner unwrapping medical tape from around an ankle. "What about Callie? You didn't mention her."
"Oh," Sadie said doubtfully. "She's kind of a loner, I guess."
Jane raised an eyebrow. "By choice? Or do other girls in the class bully her?"
"Nothing like that," Norah said, scandalized. "She's just kind of quiet. She'll work with whoever needs a partner. She's perfectly nice."
"You're quiet," Jane pointed out. "But you belong to one of the cliques."
Norah was at a loss. She turned to Sadie. "Maybe we should ask her if she wants to hang out with us sometime," she said doubtfully.
"Fine, whatever," Sadie said impatiently. "What does this have to do with Michelle?"
"Just trying to get the lay of the land," Jane said. "Who are the best five dancers in the class?"
"Alexis, me, Michelle, Callie, and Eva," Sadie responded automatically. She shot a guilty look at her friend. "Sorry, Norah."
Norah shrugged. "No, you're right. Those are the best dancers in the class."
"Hm," Jane said thoughtfully.
Some of the other girls had started to trickle out of the classroom.
Callie looked up as one of the girls passed her on the way out the door. A look of alarm crossed her face as she saw there were only a handful of girls left in the classroom. Her eyes cut over to where Danvers was now talking and laughing with the four girls Sadie had identified as Alexis, Genevieve, Lila, and Daisy. They were all hanging onto his every word and breaking out into periodic fits of giggles. Callie hastily stuffed her remaining belongings into her bag and rummaged through her bag looking for her street shoes with an almost frantic air.
Jane frowned. "Lisbon, if you'll excuse me—"
"Go," she said. She'd seen the look, too.
She watched Danvers with narrowed eyes as Jane crossed the room to talk to Callie. "What do you two think of Mr. Danvers?"
"Paul?" Sadie said. "He's okay. He's kind of preoccupied with his 'glory days'—" this in air quotes—"but pretty much all old people are, aren't they?"
"What about you, Norah?" Lisbon asked, still frowning at Danvers.
Norah shrugged. "He's a good teacher. Knows his stuff. Some of the girls think he's hot, but that's gross. He's old enough to be one of our dads."
"What does Michelle think of him?" Lisbon asked.
"She said he was better than her old teacher," Norah said with a frown. "I thought she liked him pretty well, but last week, well—"
"She was kind of cold towards him," Sadie finished. Her eyes widened and she looked over at Danvers with an expression of dawning horror. "Oh, my God. Do you think he had something to do with Michelle disappearing?"
"We don't know anything right now," Lisbon reminded them. "Please don't speculate about this to your friends. Whoever took Michelle, we'll find out. In the meantime, don't start spreading rumors when we still don't know what happened." Across the room, she saw Callie shaking her head violently at Jane and then leave the room at speed. "Excuse me."
She left Sadie and Norah and crossed the room. "Well?" she said when she reached Jane's side.
"She stonewalled me," Jane said with a frown. "Wouldn't tell me anything. But she's scared of being alone with Danvers, that much is obvious."
"Let's talk to him again," Lisbon said, scowling across the room at Danvers.
When the rest of the girls had left, they cornered Danvers before he, too, could exit the room.
"Mr. Danvers, we have a few more questions for you," Lisbon said grimly.
"Oh?" Danvers said, turning to face them. "Like what?"
"Like, do you ever have sexual intercourse with fifteen-year-old girls?" Jane said, his tone deceptively mild.
Danvers turned an unpleasant brick red color. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Jane said. "Callie, there—you've been sexually harassing her."
Danvers crossed his arms over his chest. "Did she say something to you?"
"She told me the whole story," Jane said, fixing Danvers with a piercing stare.
"You're lying," Danvers said flatly. "There's no story. Nothing to tell."
"You're the liar," Jane said, stepping towards Danvers and invading his personal space. "And I'm going to prove it." He stepped back. "But for now, you're free to go. We'll be back tomorrow to arrest you, once we have proof. In the meantime—where have you hidden Michelle?"
Danvers turned an even darker shade of brick red. "I had nothing to do with Michelle's disappearance," he said coldly. "And you will be hearing from my lawyer about your unprofessional behavior and your harassment of me."
"Probably a good idea for you to get him on speed dial and warn him of what's coming," Jane agreed. "He's going to make a mint off you, that's for sure."
Danvers glared at them. "Good-bye," he seethed. He grabbed his bag and stormed off.
"Don't leave town, Mr. Danvers," Lisbon called after him.
He raised his middle finger to them without turning around, and disappeared out the door.
Lisbon called Van Pelt. "Van Pelt, can you pull background on a Paul Danvers? Former member of the Sacramento Ballet. And tell Rigsby and Cho to get a tail on him. They're on stakeout duty tonight." She explained about Danvers. "Yeah…yeah. We're heading back to the office now. We'll tell you the rest when we get there."
Jane tugged on her sleeve. "Lisbon."
She hung up. "Yeah?"
"Can we stop at a stationary store on the way back to the office?"
She decided she didn't feel like browbeating him into explaining whatever his latest hare-brained plan entailed just at the moment. She was certain it would be risky, unprofessional, and liable to blow up in their faces. On the other hand, she was also reasonably certain that whatever it was would result in Danvers being put behind bars. "Sure, Jane."