Beck heaved a deep breath, which seemed like an understatement, and looked at me. “Are you all right? Did he bite you?”
I shook my head, miserable. “That doesn’t matter, anyway. How are we going to find Sam now?”
Beck jerked his head for me to follow him into the rosemary-scented kitchen. I did, looking up warily when I saw another person sitting on the counter. I wouldn’t have been able to describe him as anything other than dark if anyone had asked me later. He was just dark and still and silent, and smelled of wolf. He had new-looking scars on his hands; it had to be Paul. He didn’t say anything, and Beck didn’t say anything to him as Beck leaned against the counter and picked up a cell phone.
He punched in a number and put it on speakerphone. He looked at me. “How angry is he with me? Did he get rid of his cell phone?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t know the number.”
Beck stared at the phone and we listened to it ring, small and distant. Please pick up. My heart was skipping uncontrollably. I leaned on the kitchen island and looked at Beck, at the square set of his shoulders, the square set of his jaw, the square line of eyebrows. Everything about him looked safe, honest, secure. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to believe that nothing bad could happen because Beck wasn’t panicking.
There was a crackle at the other end of the line.
“Sam?” Beck leaned close into the phone.
The voice was badly broken up. “Gr—t?…you?”
“It’s Beck. Where are you?”
“—ack. Grace…Jack to—…co.” The only thing I could understand was his distress. I wanted to be there, wherever he was.
“Grace is here,” Beck said. “It’s under control. Where are you? Are you safe?”
“Cold.”
The one word came through, terribly clear. I pushed off from the island. Standing still didn’t seem to be an option.
Beck’s voice was still even. “You aren’t coming through very well. Try again. Tell me where you are. Clearly as you can.”
“Tell Grace…call I—bel…in…shed some…re. I heard…ago.”
I came back to the counter, leaned over the island. “You want me to call Isabel. You’re in a shed on their property? She’s there?”
“—es.” Sam’s voice was emphatic. “Grace?”
“What?”
“—ove you.”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “We’re getting you out.”
“Hur—”
He hung up.
Beck’s eyes flicked to me, and in them, I could see all the concern that his voice didn’t reveal. “Who’s Isabel?”
“Jack’s sister.” It seemed to take too long to pull off my backpack and get my cell phone out of one of the pockets. “Sam must be trapped somewhere on their property. In a shed, or something. If I get Isabel on the phone, maybe she can find him. If not, I’m going now.”
Paul looked at the window, at the dying sun, and I knew he was thinking that I didn’t have enough time to get to the Culpepers’ before the temperature dropped. No point thinking about that. I found Isabel’s number from when she’d called me before and hit SEND.
It rang twice. “Yeah.”
“Isabel, it’s Grace.”
“I’m not an idiot. I saw your number.”
I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her. “Isabel, Jack’s locked up Sam somewhere near your house.” I cut off the beginning of her question. “I don’t know why. But Sam’s going to change if it gets much colder, and wherever he is, he’s trapped. Please tell me you’re at your house.”
“Yeah. I just got here. I’m in the house. I didn’t hear any commotion or anything.”
“Do you have a shed or something?”
Isabel made an irritated noise. “We have six outbuildings.”
“He has to be in one of them. He called from inside a shed. If the sun gets down behind the trees, it’s going to get cold in, like, two seconds.”
“I get it!” snapped Isabel. There were rustling sounds. “I’m getting my coat on. I’m going outside. Can you hear me? Now I’m outside. I’m freezing my ass off for you. I’m walking across the yard. I’m walking across the part of the grass my dog used to pee on before my damned brother ate her”.
Paul smiled faintly.
“Can you hurry it up?” I demanded.
“I’m jogging to the first shed. I’m calling his name. Sam! Sam! Are you in there? I don’t hear anything. If he’s turned into a wolf in one of these sheds and I let him out and he rips my face off, I’m having my family sue you.”
I heard a dim, faint crack. “Hell. This door is stuck.” Another crack. “Sam? Wolf-boy? You in here? Nothing in the lawn mower shed. Where is Jack, anyway, if he did this?”
“Here. He’s fine for now. Do you hear anything?”
“I doubt he’s really fine. He’s seriously screwed up, Grace. In the head, I mean. And no, I’d tell you if I heard something. I’m going to the next one.”
Paul rested the back of his hand on the glass of the window over the sink and winced. He was right. It was getting too cold.
“Call Sam back,” I begged Beck. “Tell him to shout so she can hear him.”
Beck picked up his phone, punched a button, and held it to his ear.
Isabel sounded a little out of breath. “I’m at the next one. Sam! You in there? Dude?” There was a nearly inaudible squeak as the door opened. A pause. “Unless he’s turned into a bicycle, he’s not in here, either.”
“How many more of them are there?” I wanted to be there at the Culpepers’ instead of Isabel. I’d be faster than she was. I’d be screaming my lungs out to find him.
“I told you. Four more. Only two more close. The others are way out in the field behind the house. They’re barns.”
“He has to be in one of the close ones. He said it was a shed.” I looked at Beck, who had his phone up to his ear still. He looked back at me, shook his head. No answer. Sam, why aren’t you picking up?
“I’m at the garden shed. Sam! Sam, it’s Isabel, if you’re a wolf in there, don’t rip my face off.” I could hear her breathing into the phone. “The door’s stuck like the other one. I’m kicking it with my expensive shoe and it’s pissing me off.”