likelihood of her shooting me out in the open is slim. She wouldn’t be that foolish. And if she invites me in, I don’t have to go. Anyway, if she knows what I did, she’s probably afraid of me. Never mind the implied threat of the knife, a squirrel in a mailbox is passive.
I’m not afraid, I tell myself. I’m not afraid of her. I try to shake away the chill and pretend it works.
In spite of carpet worn threadbare and walls in need of new paint, the inside of the building is clean and tidy. No random flyers spilled below the neat metal mailboxes on the wall. One is labeled L. THOMAS. I can’t tell if the handwriting is an exact match to the envelopes, but it’s close. I swallow hard. Wipe my palms.
From an open door, there’s the steady tumble of clothes in a dryer and the smell of fabric softener. Somewhere else in the building, a muted conversation, maybe a television.
Lauren’s apartment is on the second floor and I hold tight to the railing, walking on the balls of my feet. Even so, my steps seem like elephant thuds, my knock on the door even louder. I hold my breath. No footsteps. No click of a bullet sliding into a chamber. No answer.
I knock again, same result. Rock back and forth on my heels. My mouth like sandpaper and dust, I turn the doorknob, but it’s locked. The third knock results in a door creaking open behind me. I spin around and there’s a young girl—about ten, I’m guessing—peeking out. Her skin is pale, save for a bit of red around her nose, her hair lank around her shoulders. She’s in pajamas and striped socks.
I put on a professional, calming smile. “Hello, how are you?”
She starts and takes a half step back.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Is your mom home?”
Worry circles her eyes, but she doesn’t move to close the door. “Not yet,” she says with a sniffle.
“Your dad?”
She stands a little straighter. “He … doesn’t live here.”
“Okay. I was just looking for Miss Lauren, who lives across the hall. Do you know her?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m Anna,” I say, the lie rolling easily off my tongue. “I’m sorry if I was knocking too loud, especially since you’re sick.”
“’S okay,” she says.
“And what’s your name?”
There’s a slight hesitation and another sniffle, but she says, “Mikayla.”
I crane my neck, listening. The last thing I need is someone else coming out of their apartment to see what’s happening, but there are no other doors opening. “Mikayla, I’m Miss Lauren’s boss. From the hotel,” I say, silently thanking Alexa for having that information in Lauren’s file. “Have you seen her today?”
A quick shake of the head. She rubs the top of her foot against the back of her ankle.
“I really need to talk to her, but maybe I should just come back later. Do you know if she’s usually home at night?” If Lauren works the late shift, my ruse is toast.
“I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess? Is she in trouble?”
“No, not at all,” I say. “Has she had any visitors here lately?”
Mikayla blinks a few times. “Is this about the fight?”
I don’t have to feign my surprise. “The fight?”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “She had a big fight with someone. My mom even went over to make sure she was okay.”
“And was she?”
“Uh-huh. My mom said it was just a fight with words, not hands.” She does a quick double-blink, arcing her shoulders forward.
I crouch so I can look her straight in the eye. “Mikayla, this is important. Do you know who she was fighting with?”
“Uh-uh.”
I couldn’t get that lucky, could I? “Do you remember when the fight happened?”
“Uh-huh. It was on Sunday, because my mom always makes meatloaf on Sundays and we were eating.”
“That’s very helpful, thank you,” I say. “Is your mom friends with Miss Lauren?”
“I don’t know,” Mikayla says with a shrug. “Mostly she just gives her a ride to work sometimes because she doesn’t have a car.”
“Does your mom work at the hotel, too?”
“Uh-uh. She works in an office.”
She sniffles and wipes her nose on her shoulder.
“Okay,” I say, standing straight. “I think maybe you should go and get some rest. Will you do me one favor, please? Don’t tell anyone I was here, okay? I don’t want Miss Lauren to think she did anything wrong.”
“Okay,” she says.
I lower my voice and say, “And I promise I won’t tell anyone you were home by yourself. We don’t want your mom to