Joanne’s line rang, and she jumped. It had been another one of those days at the shelter. She was officially done for the day but had stayed to finish paperwork. “Hello?” She said. It was after hours, and this had rung on her extension, not going through the front desk. It would be a personal phone call. “Joanne Thompson?” It was the same man that had called before. She was able to record calls with the shelter’s phone system, so she did. “Who is this?” “I’m looking for someone. I think you can help me.” “First, tell me your name.” The man chuckled. “I was once called Death Wish. I’ve also been called Living Night. I’m looking for Tomin Mishtan. Will you help me?” “I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone who goes by that name.” “Or maybe you know his friend, Thailyn? Or perhaps Nimitinas or Dentrias?” “These sound like names you’re making up.” He chuckled again. “Do they now? Is that what you think?” “What I think is you called me hoping to find your wife. It won’t work. I won’t tell them your nonsense names. Now, I suggest you stop calling me. If you want to get a message to your wife, call the main desk during regular hours. They will help you. I won’t.” Joanne hung up. She stopped the recording and transferred it to her cell phone. Then she deleted it from the shelter’s system.