Okay then.
When the car (finally!) pulled up at the hotel, Lauren was relieved to discover that keys to their adjoining rooms were ready and waiting. “The puck drops at seven thirty, so we have a couple of hours,” Lauren said in the elevator. “We’ll leave at seven? We can either walk through the convention center or ride the shuttle.”
“Fine.”
Sigh.
Lauren opened Elsa’s room door first. It was a nice double. Inside, she opened the lock to the adjacent door. “I’ll just be through here if you need anything,” she told the girl.
Elsa didn’t say anything. She just climbed onto the bed and pulled out her iPad.
Lauren went back into the hallway and keyed into her room, which contained a king-sized bed and Mike’s luggage. He’d left a note on the bed.
Lo—
Thank you so much for everything. Hope she hasn’t been too hard on you. (But I’m willing to bet she has.)
Can’t wait to see you tonight.
Love you,
M.
Aw. A few hours with a grumpy teenager weren’t so bad. She tucked the note into her purse and hung her garment bag in the closet.
She unlocked the door which adjoined Elsa’s room, but when she opened the door, she found that Elsa had already closed hers. TV sounds came through the door.
Leaving Elsa in peace, Lauren took out her eReader and climbed onto the bed. A nap sounded good, which was odd. She hadn’t napped in years. But this week she’d felt oddly tired. So tired, in fact, that she didn’t even make it through five pages of her book before falling asleep.
When Lauren opened her eyes again, she was disoriented. The room had deepened into shadows, and for a moment she wasn’t sure where she was. When she woke completely, her eyes flew to the clock. It was six thirty. She’d slept more than an hour.
Jumping up, Lauren went into the bathroom to splash water on her face and brush her teeth. Feeling almost human, she went to knock on the door adjoining Elsa’s room. “Honey? Will you be ready to go in thirty minutes?”
Silence. Even the TV noises were gone.
Lauren tapped again, but the girl didn’t answer, and she didn’t hear any movement. Grasping the knob, she tried to open it.
Locked.
A chill snaked up Lauren’s spine. Her mind offered up an ugly scenario. What if Elsa got even with her by disappearing? She could only imagine the phone call she’d have to make to Mike. I’ve lost your child.
Don’t panic, she coached herself. While a rogue thirteen-year-old on the loose in Detroit was not ideal, there was no reason to think that any harm had come to Elsa.
Luckily, Lauren had held onto one of the key cards to Elsa’s room. If the kid was just playing possum in there, Lauren would know in a moment. She grabbed Elsa’s key and went out into the hall. She knocked briskly on the door. “Elsa, please open the door. I’m going to come in either way, okay?”
Nothing.
Having no other choice, she waved the card in front of the scanner, pushing the door open when the light turned green. Elsa’s room was beginning to darken, too, though nobody was napping on the bed. Her heart dove toward her shoes, until she saw the strip of light under the bathroom door.
Thank you, baby Jesus.
Lauren tapped on the door. “Elsa? Couldn’t you hear my knocking? It’s almost time to go.”
She waited, expecting to hear the teen say she’d been in the shower. But Elsa didn’t say a word. Though . . . Lauren listened harder. She heard a sniffle.
“Elsa? Are you okay? Can you open the door?”
“N . . . no.”
The tingle at the base of her skull was back. “Are you ill?”
“I . . .”
Lauren heard a sob. “Honey? You’re scaring me. Open the door, please.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t? Why?” Her mind began offering up explanations, each more frightening than the last. Elsa had slipped and hit her head. Elsa had slit her wrist with a razor blade. Elsa was experimenting with heroin.
Okay, the kid’s carry-on would never have passed inspection if those last two were true. But still.
She tapped again. “Open this door.” She tried the knob. It was locked, of course.
“God! Just go the fuck away!”
Lauren took the kind of deep, cleansing breath that Ari tried to get her yoga classes to take. Then she took two more. Yelling at a locked door was not going to win the girl’s trust.
She backed away, then opened the adjoining door to slip back into her own room. She dug out her Katt Phone and tried to think.
After a few more yoga breaths, she called Mike’s number. “Hi, honey. Hope your pregame routine is going well. I don’t want you to worry, but Elsa won’t come out of her bathroom. As a precaution I’d love to know if she’s been feeling ill. But I suspect that she’s fine and just pushing my buttons a little bit. If you have any intel, shoot me a text. Otherwise I’ll talk her out of there in a bit and we’ll both be cheering for you. Love you.”
She hung up, wondering if calling him had been the right thing to do. Mike probably wouldn’t see that message before the game, anyway. He was probably stretching with his teammates and chatting with the goaltending coach.
Lauren went back into Elsa’s room and stared at the door. She’s only a sad teenager, not a lion, Lauren reminded herself. “Honey,” she said to the door. “If you won’t tell me the problem, or come out of there, I’m going to have to call maintenance and get them to open it for me.”
“No!” Elsa invested so much fear into this short word that Lauren’s pulse kicked up a notch again.
“Why?” Lauren demanded. The bathroom doorknob had a little hole in the center of it. The ones in her apartment were the same. If she could thread a straightened coat-hanger into that hole, the lock would release with a pop . . .
The doorknob turned suddenly and Elsa’s face appeared in the crack, looking both angry and scared. “I have a p-problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Lauren whispered.
“There’s . . . blood everywhere.”
“What?” Lauren nudged the door, moving Elsa out of the way. When it swung open she saw bright red blood on the bath mat. She grabbed Elsa’s wrists in her hands, but they were perfect.
And shaking.
A fraction of a second later, more pieces of the puzzle began to align themselves together. The pair of jeans cast onto the floor. The wastebasket full of wadded-up tissue. The red smear on the toilet. “You just got your period?” Elsa nodded tearfully, and Lauren felt a great flood of relief. Then one more lightbulb illuminated. “For the first time?”
The child dropped her chin, and her shoulders sagged.
“Oh,” Lauren said slowly. “Oh, honey. That must be scary.”
Elsa let out a sob.
“Hey!” Lauren said quickly, pulling herself together. “You’re okay! You’re fine.” Instinct kicked in and she pulled Elsa against her body, one hand on the back of her head. “Breathe, okay?”
“It’s . . . everywhere,” Elsa cried.