“What’s wrong?” A door shut somewhere behind her, far from the phone.

“Everything is wrong.” I told her to give it to me one thing at a time, and she did, in pieces that came too fast.

Chad had been detained — that morning, by people who wouldn’t tell her anything, and she didn’t know where he was now.

The account was frozen.

There’s a review, they told her.

Her cards were being declined, all of them.

The hotel wanted payment tomorrow and she had almost no cash, because Chad had been handling all of it.