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Ryan nodded and headed back inside. Jessie jogged along the corridor next to the theater, following the signs for the backstage entrance until she found the door. She pushed it open and stepped inside. There were about twenty people there, all of whom looked deeply engaged in what was going on onstage.
Jessie moved quickly in and out of them, searching faces, hoping to find Charlotte Stevenson’s, but came up empty. She was just about to peek out from behind the side of the curtain to study the audience when she saw one older woman near the edge of the stage who appeared to be enjoying the show but was clearly not part of the production crew.
If she was a patron of the theater, maybe she'd know the habits of another one. Jessie approached her and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman looked annoyed to be yanked out of her reverie.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Jessie whispered, “but have you seen Charlotte Stevenson around?”
“Of course,” the woman said, irritated. “But not back here. She always sits in her reserved seat in the third row.”
She pointed to a particular seat, which appeared to be empty.
“I don’t see her,” Jessie said.
"Well, clearly not," the woman replied. "That's because she's not there. Now, may I please return to enjoying the show? My granddaughter is out there."
Jessie stepped away, perplexed. Had Rhett Kirby already gotten to Charlotte? He couldn’t very well have dragged her out of theater. Her seat was far too prominent to go unnoticed. Had he secretly pulled a gun on her and ordered her to leave?
“Ma’am,” someone said quietly behind her.
Jessie turned around to find a woman in her early twenties with glasses and brown hair tied in a ponytail. She was holding a clipboard and looked extremely nervous.
“Yes?” Jessie said.
“My name is Breanna,” she said. “I’m the assistant stage manager for the theater. I couldn’t help but overhear you. I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but I recognize you from the news. You’re Jessie Hunt, right?”
"Yes, but I don't really have time—" Jessie began.
“I figured that if you’re here,” Breanna said, plowing ahead, “there must be something major going on. So I just thought you should know, Mrs. Stevenson always comes up on stage after the show to congratulate the performers. So she makes it a habit to leave the audience a few minutes before a show ends to run to the restroom, then come back around through the backstage entrance. That’s why she’s not in her seat.”
“Thank you, Breanna,” Jessie said, feeling a renewed sense of hope. “Do you know which restroom she typically goes to?”
“I think she uses the one just down the hall, outside the backstage entrance,” Breanna said. “It’s usually less crowded. You probably passed it on your way here. Just go right back out the doors you came in and turn left.”
Jessie headed back in that direction, calling Ryan as she went. In the background, she could hear the kids finish up and the crowd begin to cheer and applaud. She winced, aware that the noise might make it hard for him to hear the call. Sure enough, it went to voicemail.
“Ryan,” she said. “Meet me at the women’s restroom near the backstage doors. I just got info that Stevenson might be in there.”
As she opened the backstage doors, she started to text him too. Looking up, she saw the restroom Breanna had mentioned halfway down the hall to the left. Someone was just pushing open the doors to enter.
Jessie stopped texting. The person who just disappeared inside the women’s restroom was wearing slacks and black shawl covering their face. While that wasn’t inherently suspicious, the fact that the person looked to be about six foot one with broad shoulders was. Jessie broke into a run.
She paused outside the restroom and looked down the hallway, hoping to see Ryan sprinting around the corner. She had promised him that she wouldn’t take any chances or engage Rhett Kirby directly.
But if Kirby had just entered the bathroom and Charlotte Stevenson was inside, there was no time to waste. Charlotte could be dead before Ryan got there. Waiting wasn’t an option. Jessie unholstered her gun and pulled the restroom door open.
It took her a moment to process what she saw. Standing near the far wall, facing the last restroom stall, was the person she’d seen with the shawl over their head. They were holding what looked like a large steak knife and appeared to be on the verge of kicking in the stall door.
Jessie raised her weapon and opened her mouth to shout, but before she could get a word out, the person’s leg slammed into the door, which flew open. The violent movement made the shawl slip off their head to reveal the face of Rhett Kirby. His lips were twisted into a ferocious grimace.
A woman inside the stall screamed. Kirby took a step toward her when Jessie barked at him.
“Don’t do it, Kirby!” she shouted.
Hearing his name made the man pause. He looked over at Jessie, his confused eyes open wide. Before he could regroup, she continued.
“Drop the knife,” she ordered. “There’s no point in using it anymore. We know everything. Nina is under arrest. Killing Charlotte serves no purpose.”
Kirby turned to face Jessie directly. He was processing her words in real time, but still gripping the knife.
