“If.”
Lauren took a breath.
“I understand your position.”
“You should.”
“But I need until tomorrow afternoon.”
He stared at her.
Then at the apartment again.
His gaze lingered on the medicine bottles lined up near the sink.
On Denise’s blanket.
On the fact that desperation had a smell and he probably recognized it by now.
He clicked his tongue.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Five o’clock.”
Relief hit so hard it almost bent her knees.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“I still mean it.”
He muttered something under his breath, wrote a note on the clipboard, and turned away.
When he got halfway down the stairs, he looked back once.
“Five.”
Lauren nodded.
“I heard you.”
Then he was gone.
She shut the door and leaned against it.
One more day.
That was all she had bought.
One more day.
It felt like both a miracle and a threat.
