Page 37 of Lorenzo

Cold air cuts into the room as I step outside and look over the railing.

The hotel’s decorative ledges run between floors, wide enough to provide footing if I am careful and narrow enough to be a very precarious task if I’m not.

I close the balcony door behind me without locking it.

Then I grip the railing and begin climbing down.

The stone ledge catches the toe of my impractical shoe.

I shift my weight slowly, keeping both hands locked around the railing above me. The street is a long way down, all moving cars and people too small to make out clearly.

I do not look again.

My right foot searches until it finds the narrow edge beneath the balcony. I lower myself another few inches, my arms taking most of my weight.

The wind pulls at my blouse and sends a loose strand of hair across my face.

My foot finds the top of the balcony railing below.

I test it before transferring my weight.

Solid.

I lower myself until both feet are balanced on it, then crouch and grip the upper edge of the divider between the balconies.

I climb over the railing and drop onto the balcony of room 1419 with more force than I intended. Pain travels through my ankles, but I stay upright.

One floor down.

One room over.

The balcony for 1418 is separated from me by a stone partition that extends almost to the railing. There is enough space at the outer edge to get around it, provided I am willing to lean over fourteen floors of open air.

I am beginning to question every decision that led me here.

I put one hand on the partition and glance through the glass doors behind me.

The curtains are open. There's an open suitcase on the floor, but luckily, there's no one in the room.

I step onto the lower horizontal rail and brace my shoulder against the stone. My fingers reach around the outside edge of the partition until they catch the railing on the other balcony.

The distance is less than three feet.

It feels much farther.

I tighten my grip and move one foot across.

For a few seconds, my body hangs between the balconies, one shoe balanced on each railing and nothing beneath me but air.

“The money. Think about the money,” I mutter.

My left foot slides.

My stomach drops with it.

I catch myself against the partition, my nails scraping over stone as I force my weight toward 1418.

Then both feet land on the other side.