Before she fully agreed to undertake the undercover job, Police Commissioner Kelly had repeatedly assured her every single bit of Faye Simpson’s background would come back clean. Her only job was to commit to playing the role—and she had. When she wasn’t working as a stickman, she attended Gamblers Anonymous meetings, where she shared Faye Simpson’s tragic but all too familiar story. Jon Carlo attended most of the meetings, approached her, and became her sponsor, and twice a week they got together to discuss how Faye Simpson was handling her gambling addiction out in the big world. Ellie played the part 24/7, because when it came to undercover work it was critical to assume you were being watched at all times.

Ellie didn’t carry a purse when she wasn’t working, so when she slid into the swivel chair she placed her smartphone on top of the counter, gave Jon Carlo a quick hug, and then, for the next forty minutes, over coffee and huevos rancheros, Ellie talked all about Faye Simpson’s week. Ellie made up a story about how this one time Faye got herself locked into a fantasy of driving to one of the local casinos and hitting the blackjack tables, taking the meager sum of money she had saved and using it to double her proceeds so she could pay off her creditors back in Las Vegas. It was good practice, making up these stories about Faye. Keeping the lies straight was another matter entirely.

She found she was getting good at it, though. Found how much she liked being someone other than Ellie Batista.

The bill came, and of course Jon Carlo immediately snatched it. Like her, he had to commit to the role, so he asked her—Faye—about how her part-time job was going. Faye had never specified where she worked. She had told him and the other people she bumped into at the meetings how she wanted to keep her private life private. In case Anton or anyone else had been listening or watching, she and Jon Carlo had given a good performance.

When he went to hug her goodbye, awkwardly, with one arm, he deftly slipped something into her front jeans pocket. Then he kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “Make sure you use the bathroom before you go.”

The diner had one bathroom and, hanging on the door, a humorous sign that always made her grin: four stick silhouette people—a man, a woman, a man/woman, and an alien—and written underneath them, in bold black letters, the word Whatever and underneath that, the phrase Just wash your damn hands. Ellie found the door unlocked. She locked it immediately once she got inside, and as she fished out the piece of paper from her pocket she caught her reflection in the mirror. It still came as a shock when she saw herself, her long and practical shoulder-length hair gone, replaced by a trendy long, angled bob that brushed against her shoulders. She was a blonde now, too, and she used makeup on a daily basis. Would Cody even recognize her?