The condo was very nice. Maybe a little too self-consciously Southwestern, with its walls painted a soft terra-cotta color and the furniture echoing those shades, along with turquoise accents, but everything was clean and new and well thought out, from the compact galley-style kitchen with its automatic coffeemaker to the stacking washer and dryer in the little utility area off the back patio. Would she even be here long enough to do laundry? Hard to say — she honestly couldn’t get her mind around surviving the next few hours, let alone days and days.
Okay. One thing at a time. Elena forced herself to open her overnight bag and hang up her blouses in the closet and put away the rest of her clothes in the highboy that occupied one corner of the master bedroom. Toiletries in the bathroom, a
