The phone rang twice before a deep, guarded voice answered, "Quinton speaking."
"Hi, uh, Quinton. It's Evie," I said, attempting to sound confident despite the nerves that gnawed at me.
"Who?" His voice was gruff, unyielding.
"Evie. Evangeline," I clarified, though I was unsure if that would trigger any recognition.
There was a pause, and I could almost hear the skepticism in his silence. "What do you want?"
"I... I need to talk to you about Timothy," I said tentatively, trying to tread carefully. "He mentioned you, said he needed your help."
There was a tangible shift in Quinton's tone, a subtle hardening. "I'm not involved in his business anymore."
"He's in trouble, Quinton," I pressed on, feeling a pang of desperation. "He's been arrested for something he didn't do."
The mention
