The stakes are high, and the pressure is palpable.
“All right, everyone, time to get back to our breathing exercises.” The instructor’s voice cuts through the murmured chatter of attendees like a hot knife through butter. She’s good at her job, and although I will give her background a more thorough search tonight, her name is nowhere near the top of my list. “Inhale through your nose and hold it for two seconds before exhaling through your mouth.”
As we move through the exercises, I scan the room, my eyes bouncing between couples. We’re looking for someone who fits the profile but also doesn’t stand out. The perps we’re seeking are cunning. They can blend in with a crowd and are often the last person you’d suspect.
“Great. Wonderful. Now let’s try some partner exercises.”
The instructor demonstrates what she means to a couple of students at the front of the class before telling the rest of the class to follow suit. Macy and I position ourselves so her back rests against my chest, and my arms curl around her midsection. The tension in her body melds into mine as she leans in. I could be pompous and brush it off as a side effect of our kiss, but I wasn’t lying when I said Macy is a brilliant agent. Her flushed skin is about more than our ten-minute grind-up.
“What is it?”
As she focuses on the tempo of her breaths, as instructed, she whispers, “Three o’clock. Walmart shoes, holey, stained shirt, and appearing days from popping.” She can’t see my eyes, but she knows the exact moment my gaze lands on a woman I’d guess to be in her late teens or early twenties. “Times are tough, but her partner’s shoes alone could fund a new wardrobe. And don’t get me started on his watch.” She breathes out heavily, hiding my shocked gasp when my eyes zoom in on the collector timepiece circling the stranger’s wrist.
Although I believe Macy is on the money, my many years undercover have made me skeptical. “Selfishness is very much a trait of relationships these days.”
Macy hums in agreement, but before she can say anything, the Lamaze instructor arrives out of nowhere. “How are you two doing?”
“We’re managing.” My reply is steady despite my wish for her to move three inches to her left. She’s blocking half the class with her slim yet concealing frame. “Just trying to stay focused.”
“Would you like some one-on-one assistance?” she asks. “I can guide you through the exercises since it is your first class with us.”
Seeing her offer as an opportunity to interrogate her, Macy jerks up her chin. “Are we the only new couple?”
The instructor makes an agreeing gesture, her expression thoughtful.
Macy and I exchange a glance, and although I can see the uncertainty in her eyes, we both know that accepting the instructor’s help could provide valuable insight into the class and its attendees.
“Sure,” I say. “We’d appreciate your help.”
“Great.” She claps her hands together two times. “You… ah… I’m sorry. I missed your names.”
“That’s my fault. I had to stop at every restroom between here and San Diego.” Macy blows a wayward hair out of her eye before offering her hand to the instructor to shake. “I’m Charlotte, and this is my partner, Ethan.”
The instructor accepts her handshake, albeit hesitantly. “You traveled all the way from San Diego to attend my class. I’m flattered.” She sounds far from it.
“It’s not that far.” Macy brushes off her tone with a breathy laugh as if accustomed to snappy attitudes. “And we heard this was the best class in the state, so it was worth the short commute.”
Her stroking of the instructor’s ego pays dividends. The suspicion in her eyes fades to self-worth, and invisible peacock feathers span behind her. “I’m glad we could accommodate you. We’re usually booked out months in advance, but with Elise going into labor early and Sonya moving, we had two unexpected openings.”
To anyone else, her reply wouldn’t pique any interest, but to two agents with those exact names on victim death certificates, it demands our focus.
“Ethan, you can help Charlotte by breathing with her. Match your breaths to hers and keep your voice calm and reassuring while reminding her of the importance of breathing during labor. This will help her stay focused and relaxed.”
I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale slowly through my mouth, matching Macy’s rhythm, before offering her the praise the instructor is wordlessly suggesting I give. “You’re doing great, freckles.” The instructor sighs at the mention of Macy’s nickname, and then she swoons when I add, “Just keep breathing, nice and steady.”
“Fantastic. Now let’s try a different technique.” She kneels next to us, bringing the rest of the class back into our line of sight. “Charlotte, I want you to try the pant-pant-blow method. Take two quick breaths in through your mouth, followed by a long exhale. Ethan.” She slings her eyes to mine, forcing mine off the other attendees. “This is where you should count her breaths to ensure their rhythm is consistent.”
Macy follows her guidance, her breaths coming out in short, controlled bursts, but I feel her distraction. She is profiling the attendees as readily as I am.
“Pant, pant, blow,” I count. “Pant, pant, blow.”
I peer up at the instructor, faking desperation for her approval. She gives it to me two seconds later with both a big beaming smile and words. “I know it can be a little daunting, but you’re doing amazing. Both of you.”
“A little daunting?” Tugging on my shirt’s collar, I act fretful. “I don’t know how any of them are acting so calm.” I gesture to the attendees that she’s left unattended. “I’m terrified.”
The instructor laughs. “That’s because they’ve all been here before. They were in your exact position only months ago.”
“All of them?” I question, prying for more.
