“Oh, do I give off a Melanie Griffith sensibility?”

“More like Joan Cusack,” she observed.

“Close enough,” he said, pretending to be miffed. “While chatting old movies with you is delightful, we’re low on time so I’ll have to cut it short. I’ll bet your marshal friend outside is getting a little nervous and debating how long is too long before busting into the ladies’ room.”

“Impertinent, he is,” Jessie agreed, trying to keep the gabby vibe going so he didn’t suddenly decide to get stabby.

“I hope we see each other again, Miss Jessie,” he said, his voice turning serious. “But for that to happen, you have to survive the night. And in order to wake up tomorrow, you’ll need to follow my advice. Don’t go home tonight. Sometimes a safe house isn’t as safe as it seems.”

Jessie’s eyes widened despite herself.

“Wait, are you saying my father is—”

“I hate to do this, Miss Jessie,” he said, cutting her off. “But for us to reunite, I have to take my leave now. And to do that without interference, I need you…indisposed.”

Before she could ask what that meant, Crutchfield’s palm was on the back of her skull, slamming her forehead toward the mirror. The last thing she saw was her own face coming at her way too fast. Then there was a flash of agony, followed by blackness.

*

When she came to, she found herself slumped on the bathroom floor. Murph was standing over her, his gun drawn. She could hear his voice but couldn’t quite make out the words. After a few seconds they unjumbled and she understood him.

“…me, Hunt. Are you all right? Can you hear me?”

“Uh-huh,” she managed to groan.

A second later Dolan was in the bathroom too. He took one look at the situation and pulled out his sidearm as well. Murph glanced back at him briefly.

“Check on her,” he ordered. “I need to secure the room.”

If he hadn’t yet secured the room, then that meant that he’d only just come in. She wondered how long she’d been out. Dolan knelt down beside her and studied her head. She knew she was bleeding because she could feel the liquid dribbling down her check, narrowly missing her right eye.

She kept her focus on Murph, who kicked in both stalls, then turned his attention to the small, open window along the far wall. He approached it from the side and carefully peeked out before quickly retreating and speaking into his comm.

“Day team—be advised. An assailant is in the area and was inside the location. Likely escaped through a restroom window. Suspect might still be in the alley or adjacent street. Toomey and Collica, circle the location from opposite directions and meet in back. Emerson—continue to drive around the block and await further instructions. High alert.”

“Woman…” Jessie muttered.

“What?” Dolan asked, leaning in close.

“Crutchfield…dressed as a woman.”

Dolan looked up at Murph.

“Hunt says it was Crutchfield and that he’s dressed as a woman, or at least he was.”