N. Walters: Quinn's Quest

It was small and overcrowded, but that helped her avoid too many unwanted questions. They’d fed her, tended her injured hands and given her clean clothing. She’d intended to rest for a few minutes to regain her strength before trying to find someone to help her. Instead, she’d fallen into bed and slept far longer than she’d planned, if the darkness outside was any indication.

“How could you?” she muttered, angry with herself for her weakness. Chrissten was still being held captive. She needed help and hours and hours had gone by without Bethany looking for any. The shock, exhaustion and hunger had obviously muddled her. If she’d been thinking properly the first thing she would have done the moment she’d arrived was use the phone at the shelter to contact Chrissten’s brother. Instead she’d allowed them to feed her and tend to her injuries.

She had a vague memory of asking to use the phone and being told she couldn’t use it. Security reasons. They would gladly call the police if she wanted but she’d quickly declined their offer. They also restricted the use of cell phones and had an unlisted, blocked number. They didn’t want some woman calling her abusive ex during a weak moment and telling him where the shelter was. That was dangerous for all of them. She’d get supervised phone privileges once she’d been here twenty-four hours.

Still, she should have insisted. Pleaded. Done whatever she’d needed to do.

There was no turning back the clock but it was past time to act. She’d call Chrissten’s brother. If that didn’t work, she’d have to swallow her doubts and fears and contact the police. She had to do something.

It was no good to castigate herself about her lack of effort. Her body and mind had been at the end of their endurance. She’d been physically unable to keep going. Hunger and exhaustion had taken their toll, forcing her to rest.

But it was time to start paying her debt to her friend.

Bethany reached for the pair of jeans that were folded neatly on the chair next to her cot. They were faded and used, but comfortable and much warmer than the thin cotton pants she’d been wearing. Since she was already wearing her new underwear and a long-sleeved shirt it didn’t take her long to get dressed. She tugged on her canvas sneakers and grabbed the fleece jacket the director of the shelter had given her.

Just thinking about the woman brought a smile to Bethany’s face. Margaret Montgomery was a large, dark-skinned woman with a big voice and an even bigger heart. She’d prodded and gently bullied Bethany into a hot shower and clean clothes and pushed her to eat a hot meal.

Margaret was a no-nonsense woman who wanted to help everyone who crossed her path. Bethany would always be thankful for the help she’d gotten at the Angel of Hope Shelter and hoped to repay that kindness someday when she was back on her feet.

She glanced out the window into the darkened street below. It was night. That was good. Everyone else was asleep. Keeping as quiet as possible, Bethany crept from the room and down the stairs to the offices below. She needed to find the phone.

She sensed a person near the front entrance as she eased around the bend in the stairwell. Bethany could see clearly into the office through the open door. Margaret sat in a battered leather chair, snoring softly. Damn. Didn’t the woman ever go home? Using the office phone would be impossible with her sleeping right next to it.

She’d have to search for another phone and if she couldn’t find one here she’d have to leave the shelter.

Bethany continued down the stairs, placing her feet carefully on each tread. She’d almost reached the last stair when the bottom of her right foot hit the wood and the resulting squeak split the quiet of the night.

Margaret stirred. Bethany held her breath and waited until the other woman finally seemed to settle. She carefully continued down the stairs and paused, trying to remember the layout of the rooms. It was all fuzzy. She’d been so exhausted when she’d reached the shelter she hadn’t paid much attention.

“We don’t keep money on the premises.” Margaret’s voice brought Bethany up short. She was good and caught. Then the director’s words registered and made her frown.

“I’m not going to steal anything. I need to use the phone.”

Margaret pushed out of her chair and stood. She studied Bethany with knowing brown eyes. Bethany had to struggle not to squirm. Margaret’s eyes were filled with the kind of knowledge that came from the school of hard knocks, yet they were also filled with compassion. She shook her head. “I can’t quite figure you out. You’re not a street person. You don’t have the look of one. You’re not a druggie.”

“No, ma’am,” Bethany agreed.

Margaret smiled. “And you got manners too. But you’ve had a hard time of it for sure.” She hesitated, chewed on her bottom lip and finally nodded. She motioned toward her desk. “Go ahead. Use the phone.”

Bethany sidled toward it and looked at Margaret, wondering how she could ask for some privacy. She didn’t want anyone else to hear what she had to say. That could quickly land her in the mental ward of a hospital.

Once again, the other woman seemed to understand what she needed. “I’m going to make myself a cup of tea.” She started out of the room, but paused at the last second. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Bethany found herself smiling. Margaret was a force of nature. She didn’t think any of the women staying here wanted to disappoint her in any way. She hadn’t observed much of what went on in the shelter, but she’d seen enough to know the director was respected by one and all, staff and clients alike.

This was the moment of truth. Bethany could walk away now and forge a new life for herself somewhere else. It would be so easy to do. If she made this phone call there was no going back. She’d be crossing a line over which there was no return.

Werewolves. They were out there. She knew that now. And she was about to make her first contact.

Knowing there was really only one choice she could make, Bethany picked up the receiver and dialed the number Chrissten had made her memorize.

The phone rang twice before it occurred to Bethany that the middle of the night might not be the best time to call anyone asking for help, especially not with the crazy story she had to tell. “Damn.” She thought about hanging up but she was committed now. She tightened her hand around the receiver.

“Yeah.” The voice was male and hoarse with sleep.

She cleared her throat. “Is this Quinn Lawton?” She prayed she’d remembered the number right. She didn’t know what she’d do next if this wasn’t Chrissten’s brother.

There was some rustling in the background and the voice was more alert this time. “No.” Bethany’s heart sunk. Maybe she’d dialed the number wrong. Before she could apologize and hang up, the man was speaking again. “Just give me a second and I’ll get him.”

Hope surged inside her. She hadn’t failed. The phone number was the right one. Her knees threatened to buckle so she sank into the chair that Margaret had vacated. Her stomach felt queasy and she was still very weak. She could still hang up the phone and let the police handle this. All she’d have to do is tell them she was kidnapped. No need to tell them about the rest of it. Quinn Lawton would never be able to find her. There was no way to trace the call back to the shelter.

She clutched the receiver in her hand and took a deep breath, knowing she could never do that. She was committed now. No turning back. Footsteps sounded through the receiver and she knew the man who’d answered was taking the phone to Chrissten’s brother, who was a half-breed werewolf just like Chrissten. Just like she was.