A few weeks after Albert Cross was arrested for suspicions of her murder, a second victim was found on a folding chair at an apartment pool. He’d obviously had an alibi for the second victim, and the police soon discovered that Cross was in New York during the time Sherry was killed. So they released him.
Over a few months’ time, three more victims popped up with no leads as to who may have killed them.
Aidan followed Shaun into the yoga studio, hoping they would catch a break. Maybe the killer messed up and kidnapped her while someone watched.
Aidan doubted it, but it was always a possibility.
The studio was large on the inside, containing two rooms and a reception desk. People doing various yoga moves occupied both rooms.
The receptionist typed furiously at the computer, her eyes narrowed in deep concentration as Aidan and Shaun made their approach.
Aidan set his credentials on the countertop.
“Good afternoon, miss. I’m Agent Aidan O’Reilly, this is Agent Shaun Henderson.”
“Hi, um, can I help you?” She blinked, taken aback by the interruption.
“I hope so,” Aidan told her, noting her name tag read Brianna. He handed her a photo of Maya Gibson. It was a recent picture her husband had given them earlier in the day. “Do you recognize this woman? She used to come here.”
Brianna took a long look at the photo before she nodded. “Yes. She attended classes every Tuesday and Thursday night like clockwork. I heard about her when I came in to work. It’s so sad. She was always so nice.”
“Have you noticed whether she may have seemed bothered by anyone?” Shaun asked. “Maybe he was trying to pull advances and she didn’t like it?”
Brianna shook her head. “No. Not really. Some of the guys would look at her. I mean, she was perfect. I'd kill to have that body, you know? But I think they all knew she was happily married, so they didn't try to come on to her or anything.”
“Did she ever go out with anybody from her classes?”
“Yeah. Every Tuesday night, they’d go for drinks. Mostly it was the women, but sometimes the men would join in. Mrs. Gibson was the type you can’t help but love and want to know, you know?” She shook her head. “She made friends with everybody. She invited me a few times.”
“Has anybody new begun coming to the studio? Particularly on the days she’s usually in attendance?”
“We get a few new people just about every day. We do keep a list, but I’ll need to check with my boss and make sure it’s okay to give it to you. He’s in the back.”
“We’d appreciate it,” Aidan told her.
The receptionist replied she’d be back, then went past the two yoga classes and entered through a door on the opposite side of the building.
Aidan watched as the class nearest to them did a pose. Cheyenne liked doing yoga from time to time, and she’d mentioned a few pose names, but Aidan couldn’t remember what this one was called. They were in a squat position, arms wrapped around the back of their bodies, hands linked together. Most of the group seemed to perform the pose exceedingly well, with the exception of one or two. The yoga instructor weaved around the room, fixing bodies the way they needed to be.
“Pasasana,” Shaun said from behind Aidan.
Aidan turned to see Shaun leaning against the reception desk, his dark arm blending with the black counter.
“What?”
He motioned toward the yoga room. “That pose. Called Pasasana. Or Noose Pose.”
Aidan realized he must have been muttering to himself, as he’d been known to do when in deep concentration trying to figure something out.
“Looks painful,” Aidan commented.
Shaun set the brochure he was skimming through on the counter and flashed Aidan a smile, his teeth white, almost reflecting off his skin. “Takes practice.”
“You do yoga?”
“Shocked?”
“Actually, I am,” Aidan admitted.
Shaun shrugged. “It’s one way for me to release stress. But as you can see, I’m a big guy, so it’s a bit hard for me to do some of the poses. They are, as you said, painful.” He grinned again.
“What’s your other stress-reducer?” Aidan asked.
“Punching things,” he said simply.
Before Aidan could ask him what things, he spotted the receptionist returning, a man trailing after her. He allowed the conversation to fall into silence.
“Agents,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Craig Jones, the manager.”
Shaun and Aidan accepted his hand.
“I understand you’re looking into Maya Gibson’s murder?”
“Yes sir,” Aidan told him. “We were hoping to get a list of your newest customers—dating back to...the beginning of last month should be good enough.”
Jones nodded and looked over at his receptionist. “Go ahead and give it to the agents.” He looked back at them. “When I heard Maya was dead, I couldn’t believe it. I’ve known her for a few years. It’s horrible what happened to her.”
“How long have you known her, exactly?” Shaun asked.
“Two or three years,” the manager replied.
The printer whirred as it spit the documents onto the tray.
“Do you have any suspects yet?”
“We’re prohibited from discussing the investigation at this time,” Aidan told him. “As soon as we can, we’ll release the information.”
“I hope you catch this guy soon,” Jones said.
“Did you see her leave with anyone last Tuesday night?”
Jones shook his head, exchanging glances with the receptionist,
