MIA POV
She gets into the cart on a Tuesday.
Not because Tuesday is special. Because Tuesday is the day Elena wheels the linen cart down the east corridor at 10 15 a.m., and the east corridor guard takes his bathroom break at 10 22, and Mia has spent eleven days confirming both of these facts with the patience of someone who has nothing but time and everything to lose.
She is already inside the cart, underneath the folded sheets, when Elena pushes it through the laundry room door.
She counted the sheets carefully. Enough layers to hide her shape from above. Not so many that the cart rides too heavy. Elena is strong but she is not young, and a suddenly heavy cart would be noticed by the woman pushing it before anyone else.
Mia has thought about all of this.
She breathes through her mouth. Slow. Quiet.
The cart rolls.
She has four minutes.
