Page 4 of Galen's Redemption
Chapter Two
THE EARLY-MORNINGthunderstorm didn’t help Galen’s headache any. The pressure continued to build, and his head throbbed. It took a supreme amount of effort and six cups of coffee before he felt as though he might be able to face the world.
Galen paid the driver, opened the door, and peered up at the building as he got out of the cab. This place was a shithole. He could seemortar missing from between bricks in several places, windows that had cardboard over them to cover cracks or breaks, and the stale smell of urine wafted from the alleyway.
How can people choose to live like this?
He stepped gingerly onto the sidewalk, taking note of the water rushing over soggy papers and into the sewers. He regretted wearing his suit for this. His navy-blue wool Burberry andFerragamo oxfords were definitely not meant for a place like this. Maybe a hazmat suit and flamethrower would have been a better option.
Galen sucked in a breath, winced over the smell, then headed for the door to the Tenth Street shelter. As he reached to open it, he had second thoughts and pulled the Brooks handkerchief from his jacket pocket. Better to spend the extra thirty dollars on a newone, instead of subjecting himself to all manner of diseases he was certain these people carried.
The door opened into a dimly lit vestibule that had yet another door. This one had thick glass windows covered by heavy iron bars. Galen bit back a groan at the thought of why these… people… needed to worry about someone breaking in and stealing their meager belongings.
As soon as he pulled thatdoor open, light streamed into the tiny cube. He stepped into a large, open space that was in serious need of a decorator. The table, such as it was, had obviously been pulled out of a trash pile somewhere and now sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by six rickety chairs and two boxes that were probably meant to double as extras. The walls were a shit-brown color, with big chunks of paint missing,showing the exposed brick underneath. Squares of carpeting in various hues were spread around the room. Where it didn’t overlap, a concrete floor peeked through.
“How in the hell could this place pass any kind of health inspection?” Galen shook his head. Maybe the standards were lower for these people. Either way, he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“Hello?”
The silence waseerie. Icy cold fingers trailed along Galen’s spine, which he knew was a result of watching too many horror movies as a kid. Everything about this place reminded him of a set fromA Nightmare on Elm Street. He half expected Freddy Krueger to traipse around the corner, knife-nails flicking as he mocked Galen for his secrets.
A high, sharp voice caught his attention, and Galen moved toward it.The screams rose in pitch and volume, and Galen wanted to run. But when a louder, deeper voice boomed over the other, he continued on. He turned the corner and found an area filled with Army-style cots. On one of them lay a girl with stringy blonde hair, thin, and she was crying as a man held her down. Galen pulled his phone from his pocket, ready to dial 911, when the man turned toward him. The frontof his shirt was covered in… something disgusting.
“You! Back room—there are towels there.” He pointed to a small room with a wire mesh fence around it. “I need you to grab as many as you can and bring them back up here.”
Galen didn’t move, transfixed by the scene in front of him as the young woman threw up again, splashing the man with more of the mess. “I’m not here for—”
He sneered. “I don’tgive a damn what you’re here for. She needs help.” He turned back to her. “It’s okay, Bree. The ambulance is on the way. Just hang on.”
“Look, I need—”
He didn’t even bother looking at Galen. “You need to go back and get me those damn towels.”
Uncertain why he obeyed, Galen hurried to the room and loaded his arms with the towels. He carried them back to where the man sat, stroking the girl’shair. She was crying, and he was doing his best to comfort her. She sat up and heaved, but nothing came out. The smell was overpowering, and Galen’s stomach flipped. The man reached out, grabbed some of the towels Galen held, and started wiping down the girl’s face and chest.
“Who gave you the drugs, Bree?”
Galen would have sworn the girl was as white as she could get, but her face paled evenfurther.
“Bree, I need to know. Was it someone at the shelter?”
She lay quietly, and the man sighed.
“You know I have to call the police, right?”
That got her moving. She pushed away from him as she jerked back. “You can’t!”
Thick fingers brushed hair away from her eyes. “I have to. You know the rules, and number one is no drugs are allowed within these walls. We have kids here, some youngerthan seven. Do you want them around that shit? What would have happened if one of them had gotten hold of it? Their lives are already hard, but add addiction on top of it and they’re going to be out on the streets, peddling their asses for a fix.”
Galen wanted to say something. The man was being a jerk to this kid. He opened his mouth but snapped it closed when the guy shot him a withering glare.
“Is that what you want, Bree? Do you want them to grow up to be like you?”
“I’ve been trying to stop. I swear.”
“And that’s good, and I’ll help you, but for now I need to know who sold you the stuff.”
The girl dissolved into tears as she shook her head. “It was Mike. He brought it in.”
