"Then why do they want her?"

"They want to hurt her."

"So call the cops," I said. "How about putting that gun down before someone gets hurt?"

"The police can't help us," she said, some desperation creeping into her voice. The gun stayed where it was, hanging loosely at her side. "You're the only one who can."

"I'm flattered," I said. "I also don't believe it."

"It's the truth," she insisted. "Why else would I have waited for you this way?"

"Free rent?" I suggested.

Her cheeks reddened a little. "It was the only place I felt safe."

"Especially since most New York hotels don't stock guns for their guests?"

She lifted the Glock as if she'd only just remembered she was holding it. "They're after me, too," she said in a low voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "Feel free to call the cops on your way out."

"If they catch me out there, they'll kill me," she said.

"Oh, come on, Ms. Beach," I growled. "Really. You think I haven't heard that one before? It's the last card everyone tries when they want to con someone into doing something."

"I'm not trying to con you into anything," she insisted.

"Could have fooled me," I said. "There's an emergency women's shelter right down the block. Feel free to go there and tell them your troubles. Maybe they'll put you up for the night. Maybe they'll even talk to the cops for you."

"The shelter can't help me," she said. "Neither can the police."

"You won't know until you try, will you?"

She took a deep breath. "She should still be in the Zumurrud District of Imani City," she said. "She'll wait for you to contact her. Her name's—"

"Ms. Beach, I already told you I'm not interested," I interrupted, standing up again. "Furthermore, it's been a long day and I'm very tired."

"Her name's Rebekah," she went on, the words coming out in a rush like a countdown sprinter trying to beat the clock. "She's ten years old, blonde—"