Unfold

Chapter Ten (10)

There were two things that Shawn knew for sure; he would never again set foot in a college bar, and he had no idea what to do with Jeanette Arthur.

He sat in the parking lot, his car still in park with the engine running. He looked back at Jean who was sleeping in his back seat.

How did it get to this point? He didn't know this girl, didn't know any of her friends. By how drunk she was, he wouldn't be surprised if Bret has done something to her drink.

He didn't have many options. He could go try to find anyone inside who might know where she lived, but Bret said they had left. He had been watching her most of the night, and nobody else seemed to know them. He supposed be could go ask Bret, but after being punched in the face, he would rather just leave that one alone.

He put his hands over his face and tried to think.

Okay God, I got her, now what?

Shawn obviously knew his intentions were good, but he couldn't imagine what this girl would be thinking when she woke up. He barely knew her. It really was not his place to be driving her around right now, nor was it really his place to have carried her out of the bar in the first place. He felt the push, he saw that no one else was stepping up, and he took a leap of faith. Now he just needed to figure out what to do next.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He was just going to drive in circles all night unless he did something. He turned back and put his hand on Jean's shoulder and shook her.

"Jean," Shawn said, softly at first, but then louder. "Jean, wake up. I need you to tell me where you live."

Jean moaned a little bit in her sleep and reached over to grab Shawn's hand. He gently pulled his hand away and tried to shake her again. He repeated her name a couple times loudly, but she didn't answer.

Shawn took a deep breath. "Guess we're going home, then," he whispered to himself.

Shawn could feel himself sweating as he left the parking lot. This was a crime, right? This was technically kidnapping. He supposed he could call the police, but would that be worse than just taking her home himself? He pulled out his cell phone and called Zeiler.

"Shawn?" she answered quickly. "Everything okay? Don't tell me you got drunk."

Shawn exhaled deeply. "When was the last time I got drunk?"

"You're right," Zeiler concluded. "What's wrong?"

Shawn glanced over his shoulder at Jean. "Are you at my house?"

"What do you think?"

Okay, good. He would need her help when he arrived home.

"I think I accidentally kidnapped someone."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Shawn waited.

"I trust you because you're a smart guy, Shawn." There was another pause. "But how?"

"It's a long story, but I have a girl passed out in my back seat, and  I barely know her. I can't wake her either. She was at the bar alone with Bret Hilliard."

He heard Zeiler groan on the other line. "How'd you end up with her?"

"Again, long story, but I'm at a loss. I thought about calling the police because I don't know what to do."

"Does she have a purse? A phone?"

Shawn looked back at her again, his phone pressed to his ear. She didn't have a purse around her at all.