Page 140 of Help Me Remember
I may not be her sister, but I’m still terrified for Sonya and Myles. I’m hoping that Sonya has been able to keep them both relatively safe, but I already know there is only so much she can do. When he told me what his father was doing to them, I cried. No child should endure the pain that he has, and Sonya is one of the nicest people. Neither of them deserves what Bill has put them through.
I should’ve filed that paperwork without giving her a warning. I should’ve never let him leave the center that day at all.
The front desk clerk sighs. “I can help you, but . . . I can’t tell you anything. If you happened upon that information . . .”
“Whatever you can do, I appreciate.”
She jerks her head to the right, and I follow her into an area marked for employees only. “If you’re willing to become staff, there are lists of the names on some of the housekeeping carts.”
I reach for her, pulling her in for a hug. “You’re an angel.”
“I’ll lose my job if—”
“No one will ever know what you’ve done, but I will never forget.”
All too often people sit on the sidelines, waiting for someone else to step in and help. I won’t do that, and it appears that neither will she. I came here of my own volition to do what was right. To help someone who needs me. I just have to hope Spencer and Quinn are right behind me.
I change into the uniform and grab the cart before searching over the list of names and room numbers. None of them stand out, and I have to assume Bill booked the room under an alias.
One of the housekeepers gives me a look. “You’re new.”
“Yes, actually, maybe you can help. I was cleaning a room the other day, and there was a little boy and his parents. I think the man’s name was Bill, but I promised him I would come back and bring some extra towels, and now I can’t remember the room number.”
She rolls her eyes. “You write it down next time. Do you know the complaints I get because we can’t keep help?” The woman grabs her clipboard off the side of the cart. “They’re in 208. Bring them towels, and then you can clean that floor. There was a bachelor party in 222, so you can handle that.”
I inwardly cringe, imagining that parties thrown in this establishment probably don’t leave the room very tidy.
“Thank you. I’ll handle what I can.”
I push the cart ahead of me, feeling more nervous than before. This motel is not a nice place. It’s clear it is somewhere people go when they don’t want to be seen. The drapes on the windows are a yellow color, and the cart is filled with things that probably fell off the back of a truck.
As I get to the second floor, the resolve I had starts to diminish slightly because it isn’t until I step out into the hallway that I remember he has a gun. I have no idea what I’m going to encounter, and I really thought Spencer would be here by now.
He had to have found Myles’s note that I left in the dressing room. Maybe he’s waiting for Quinn or the police.
I pull out my phone, finding ten missed calls and eight text messages.
Oh, I am in so much fucking trouble.
Nine of the missed calls are from Spencer and one is from Quinn.
Then the texts.
Spencer: Where are you?
Spencer: Seriously, Brielle, where the fuck are you?
Spencer: Baby, please don’t do this. Please, just call me. Wait for me. I’m coming for you, and I will do this.
Spencer: Brie, I can’t . . . I can’t do this!
Quinn: I am on my way to you. Do not go to that room alone.
Spencer: I swear to God, if you get yourself killed, I am coming to hell and you will never hear the end of this!
Quinn: Brielle, answer one of us.
Spencer: I am begging you, wait for us. We are on our way, but Jesus Christ, Brielle, just wait. Please.
