As dusk began to settle over Salt Lake City, I left the senatorial office, my mind racing with what my informant had just revealed. Armand's sudden plans to leave the country gnawed at me, but I pushed the thoughts aside as I drove towards Brenda James' dance studio. I needed this distraction, something to take my mind off the chaos.
The sky was painted in hues of pink and purple by the time I arrived. The studio sat quietly at the corner of the street, its windows dim with only a faint glow from the inside. I parked the car, took a deep breath, and stepped out, walking towards the entrance.
It looked closed off, with no signs of activity. But as I reached the door, the guard recognized me immediately, nodding as he opened it without a word. I thanked him softly and stepped inside. The quiet atmosphere only heightened the sense that Brenda knew I was here—probably watching me approach.