Laurel smiled over the edge of her mug. “I’m not sure hiding you from Mom in my toy chest really counts.”

“It counts more than you think.” Ash scraped her foot through the dust on the floor.

There was a loud crash from down the hall. Ash’s face paled. She leapt into the hallway.

Laurel grabbed her stiff new boots and pulled them on, feeling the hard leather squeeze at the spots still sore from yesterday.

“I must not have tied something right. I’m still working out how best to get all these down.” Ash led Laurel through the long corridors to the hall outside the elevator shaft.

“In one piece, preferably,” Laurel said.

“I’ll see what I can do. Go down to the lobby and help. You can guide the cases and unhook them when they’re down.”

Downstairs, Laurel stared at the open mouth of the elevator shaft. She reached in and pulled a tall, swinging oak bookshelf out onto the floor. It had vines carved along the top and sides in ornate scrolls. Even through the dust, Laurel could tell that the grain was beautiful. It had crashed into the side of the elevator shaft, one side scraped and split. More work. I’ll never be out of work again in this place.

“How many of them are there?” she called up the shaft.

“A lot.”

Laurel grinned. “And what have you done with the books?”

“Left them for you—in huge piles you can swim through if you like.”

Laurel’s smile grew.

“You’re starting to get it, aren’t you?” Ash asked.

“I don’t give a shit about your crappy hotel. But I’m going to have an awesome antique store.”

Ash laughed. “Okay, next!”

Laurel adjusted the boards Ash had laid across the shaft, creating a platform level with the floor. “Lower away!”

A loud crack sounded as something landed at Laurel’s feet in a cloud of dust. Wood splintered. Ashley screamed.

“Ash?” Her head spun. Panic clouded her thoughts. She raced up the stairs to the fourth-floor hallway, kicking up a cloud of debris behind her. Ashley writhed on the floor, her foot pinned under one of the massive shelves.

Laurel shouldered the shelf off Ash’s foot, knelt beside her shrieking sister, and pulled the knot from the laces, yanked the laces from the eyelets, carefully slid the boot off Ash’s foot. Ashley twisted in pain, leaving marks like snow angels in the dust. Dust devils.

Ashley’s two smallest toes were already turning black.

Laurel had only seen a broken bone once before: her forearm. She rubbed at the scar that wound down her arm. Somehow, this was worse. This was Ashley.

Laurel pulled off her scarf to wrap around the twisted toes. Blood had begun to bubble up from where the toenails had torn from their beds.

“Not your dirty rag! Go get the first aid kit from my room.”