From the author: Has Myrtle uncovered Raiden's lair?
How many seconds did she have before the cops came downstairs? How many seconds was she wasting doing this calculation?
Myrtle grasped the padlock and tugged. The metal plate bent but didn't give. She wished she could just bash the door in, but that would defeat the 'hiding' purpose. She tried again, pulling slow and steady. Her hand slipped off the lock and it clunked against the door.
She froze. Silence.
Overhead, she heard the squeak of the gym doors. “Anyone in here?"
Please, have them...