“Like what? Time travel?” The inspector looked perplexed.

“No, no, just think about where you want to be in the future. Picture it, plan it, think it. So you’ll reach your goals. The title is Tomorrow Is the New Today.”

Dunn frowned and nodded. “I’ll check those detectors now. You better measure for that chain.”

Chapter 30

Well, okay. Interesting.

Dance braked her SUV to a stop in one of the driveways that led to the Bureau of Investigation parking lot. She was between an unruly boxwood and a portion of a building occupied by a computer start-up.

Near the front door of the CBI headquarters Michael O’Neil stood in the lot talking to his ex-wife, Anne. Their two children—Amanda and Tyler, nine and ten—were in the backseat of Anne’s SUV, visible through an open door. A pearl white Lexus, California tags.

The woman was dressed in clothes that were very, very different from what Dance recalled when Anne lived on the Peninsula with Michael. Then, it was gossamer, close-fitting gypsy outfits. Lace and tulle, New Age jewelry. Boots with heels to propel her to a bit more height. Today, though: running shoes, jeans and a gray jacket of bulky wool. And, my God, a baseball cap. Exotic had become, well, cute and perky.

Who could have imagined?

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.