Cry Wolf (6 page)

Just when she thought she’d had things under control.

Andrea sighed.

Either she’d been a bad, bad girl in a previous life, or someone up there just plain didn’t like her.

Sean tried to keep his eyes on the road and off the enticing woman seated next to him, but it was no use. He turned his head and watched her reach into her bag. There was so little resemblance between this beautiful creature and the fragile young woman he had once known. He couldn’t fault himself for not recognizing her at first. Physically, she looked completely different.

Dragging his eyes back to the road, he wondered if she’d had a little nip/tuck done here and there. He’d never taken her for the type to care all that much about appearances, but people change.

He came to a red light and used the opportunity to do more inventory. Andrea’s hair had once been short, boyishly so, but now its length fought to escape the clip she’d used to pull it away from her face. One long brown tendril succeeded and now hung free just beside her eye, teasing the edge of her eyelashes and making her seem less perfect. She used one hand to push it behind her ear and then flipped through the pages of the notebook she’d retrieved. As if sensing his gaze on her, she glanced up, caught him looking and then arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow as if to say
Got a problem, pal?

No, this Andrea Lockhart was not the same coed he had known. This Andrea Lockhart was all woman, in body and attitude. But no matter what else had changed, those expressive eyes looking right into his were exactly the same.

“Just waiting on you to tell me—where to first, Andi?” He shifted his focus back to the empty stretch of highway before him.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Andi?” He heard her scribble something in her notebook, hard. “My name is Andrea, or just Lockhart if you prefer to keep this professional.”

“You mean I have a choice?” He grinned. It bothered him that she was trying to put such distance between them. He wanted her to smile back, just like she used to, and teasing a woman was usually the easiest way of making that happen.

She ignored the comment. “I have a meeting with Kristy Winslow at eleven. I suppose you know where she lives?”

“I suppose I do, since I just interviewed her husband at home last month because he’s running for county council.”

“Yeah. I heard about that.” She flipped her notebook shut and put it back in her bag, then focused on the line of trees surrounding them. She glanced at her watch. “I’d like to see the areas where this thing has been spotted most frequently. Think we can manage it before we get to the Winslow place?”

He glanced at the time on the dashboard—half past ten already. “Maybe if you want to do a quick drive-by. If you want to get out and wander around, we should save it until after lunch.”

“After lunch it is.”

He nodded. “That’ll give us time to stop by and let you change into something more comfortable.”

“What exactly do you mean by
that
?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Lockhart. I just meant you can change into jeans or something. That’s all.”

“Why? I still have to interview those students and their teacher.”

He shrugged. “Because I’d hate to see you get your pretty suit messed up if we go walking around in the woods.”

“I’m on the clock, and jeans are hardly professional attire. What I have on will do just fine.”

He almost laughed.
Surely she’s joking, right?
Either she was great at keeping a straight face or she was serious. He sent her a quick look to gauge her reaction.
Oh, definitely serious
.

When had she turned into Miss Priss?

Andrea must have caught his look. “Someone once told me how important it was to look professional when working, and it’s a standard I’ve held for myself ever since.”

He got the feeling that declaration was supposed to mean something to him. Maybe a poke because of what he’d once said to her? Her tone hadn’t been angry or accusing, so maybe not. She sent a pointed look at his attire. “I suppose you don’t care too much how you look on the job, though.”

Sean was hardly offended. Sure, he had held the same standard once—back when he was working his way up the newspaper ranks. Sean glanced down at his slacks and wished he’d been able to get away with a clean pair of jeans like he’d worn yesterday at a construction site covering a story. Dressing more casually was one of the biggest differences—and one of his favorite perks—of working for a family-owned community newspaper rather than a corporate daily.

He’d never seen Andrea in anything other than jeans and sweatshirts in college. When had she turned into such a sophisticated woman?

“While we have a few minutes, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to all these years?” He tried again to impress her with one of his most charming smiles. “Background info for my story, of course.”

The look she sent him was not amused. “Let’s get one thing straight, Hunter. You might be following me around on occasion, but your story isn’t on me. It’s on my investigation. Agreed?”

He had his ways of finding out more about her. He just wished he could hear it all from her. He shifted in his seat. Her standoff attitude was starting to grate on his nerves. “Sure. Let’s talk about your investigation. How did you hear about our little werewolf anyway?”

She visibly relaxed. “We were pitching Halloween ideas during a budget meeting, and one of the interns said, ‘Hey, there’s a werewolf near where I come from. Why don’t you do a story on that?’ For some reason, I was the only one who laughed, which unfortunately singled me out and assured me the piece. Not to mention, I think my editor has it in for me.”

He could picture the look on Andrea’s face when she’d been given the assignment. It probably matched the look on her face as she explained it to him now. He choked back a laugh. “I take it you aren’t the usual staff member who reports on monsters—Bigfoot, vampires, etcetera?”

She gave a snort of disgust. “Of course not. I’m used to covering Lindsay Lohan’s wild nights in Miami or Jessica Simpson’s latest fling. Well…I did do a brief feature on a supposed psychic goldfish once when I covered for someone else, but I can safely say this is my first werewolf story.”

“No kidding. Lindsay Lohan? Jessica Simpson? So, where do I apply?” She sent him a look of distaste, and he couldn’t help but add, straight-faced, “I do have one question.”

“Dare I ask?”

“How could you possibly tell that a goldfish is psychic?”

Her lips twitched at the corners, but her control was good. Too good. She sent him a look that could freeze fire. “Are we there yet?”

Actually, they were.

The Winslow place was one of the nicer ones in Woodbine, but that didn’t mean it was fit for the cover of
Architectural Digest
. The two-story farm house only stood out among its rural neighbors because Harry Winslow had sunk about twenty thousand into fixing the farm up last spring.

“You can wait in the truck…or go feed some chickens or something.” Andrea shooed him away as she lifted her bag and slid it over her shoulder. “I doubt this will take long.”

“You don’t know Kristy. Besides, I’m your shadow, remember? Just pretend I’m not here.” He winked and followed her.

Andrea rolled her eyes, muttered something under her breath and forged ahead without him.

Yep, this was going to be fun to watch.

Kristy Winslow was possibly the chattiest woman Andrea had ever had the pleasure, or maybe displeasure, of meeting. Andrea hadn’t decided yet if the petite redhead was friend or foe, or more to the point, if she was worth quoting. To describe the woman as a bit ditzy was probably being generous, but Andrea reminded herself nerves made most people talkative.

Andrea heard all about how Kristy’s daddy was the most popular preacher in Woodbine and how Kristy volunteered every Halloween to work the church’s Halloween-alternative festival for children. Kristy’s little boy normally would have been home, she explained, but he was doing Mother’s Morning Out right now. Andrea also now knew Kristy had no brothers or sisters but did have three cousins named Hank, Melinda and Bobby. She knew Kristy baked a mean pot roast that all her visitors raved about—would Andrea like to come over for dinner one night?

It took more than an hour for Kristy to broach the subject of why the preacher’s daughter played host to a tabloid reporter from out of town. Andrea doubted she would have let the woman ramble for so long if Sean hadn’t been seated next to her on the sofa, distracting her with his sandalwood cologne and pure male charisma. The younger woman finally fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m a God-fearing woman, Miss Lockhart,” she said in a gentle, country-thick voice. “I don’t believe in things like werewolves or vampires.”

“If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll leave your name out of the article.” If that failed, Andrea would offer money, but she always considered that a last resort and one she rarely practiced. It left a bad taste in her mouth. No ordinary reporter would dare consider offering money to a source, but it was standard procedure for those in the tabloid field.

The promise of anonymity opened a floodgate. Kristy told her story, using hand gestures and expressions to illustrate the excitement of the experience.

Kristy had been driving along Roe Road late one night when an unusual animal walked across the road in front of her. At first, she’d thought it was a bear, but as she’d pulled closer, she’d realized it looked more like a large canine walking on two legs.

“Its head is what I remember most.” She spread her hands apart to indicate a large size. “It wasn’t the head or even the body of a bear. Oh no, this was more like—well, I don’t know what to say except it looked like a wolf’s head.”

It had been holding some kind of roadkill in its cupped hands, Kristy explained. Some kind of rabbit, she thought.

“I drove away. When it came running after me, I thought for certain I was a dead woman. I suppose God heard my prayers that night, because I came face-to-face with the devil himself and lived to tell the tale.” She pressed one hand to her chest.

“What about your car?” Andrea nodded toward the window, where the small Ford was visible. “You mentioned you could see claw marks on your bumper. Are they still there?”

The claw marks Andrea saw a few moments later were less than spectacular. Andrea pulled out her digital camera and zoomed in. It looked as if someone or something with four long nails had barely scratched through the paint above the bumper. Hardly exciting stuff.

It took Andrea and Sean—who, so far, had been a silent companion—another fifteen minutes to untangle themselves from the chatty woman’s ramblings. They might never have gotten free from Kristy Winslow except she had to pick her son up from his outing. As they walked back to Sean’s truck, Andrea sidestepped a chicken and glanced around. This town was just so…rural. How did people stand it?

Her boot slid in something that looked like mud—but if it wasn’t, she didn’t want to know—and she struggled to find her balance. Sean’s hand grabbed her arm to help, and she immediately wished he hadn’t. His touch, no matter how small, did crazy things to her control. She needed that control to keep from reverting into the blabbering, lovesick girl she’d once been around him. She considered jerking free but was too afraid she’d land herself in the filth. If she ruined her suit, she’d never forgive herself. Maybe she shouldn’t have dismissed Sean’s idea of changing into jeans so quickly.

Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“I’d like to go out to Roe Road and take a look around.” She climbed into the truck. “I don’t suppose we have time to head over to the sheriff’s office before we’re due back at the high school, do we?”

Sean shook his head. “Nope. We’ve got a date to keep.”

“Date?” Andrea cursed the thrill of excitement that single word sent racing through her body.

“Yeah, I promised you lunch, and I never go back on my promises, Sunshine, especially when it involves food.”

News of a tabloid reporter’s arrival in Woodbine had obviously leaked throughout the town’s highly efficient grapevine. As Andrea followed Sean into the sandwich shop he’d chosen, heads turned and conversations lowered to a whisper. She felt every eye in the joint sizing her up and making hasty judgments.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She returned those inquisitive looks without flinching or, God forbid, pretending she didn’t notice.

Once they’d placed their orders, Sean tried to diffuse the tension. “Don’t you just love small towns? I’ll bet you don’t get that reaction when you walk into a café in New York or—where is the
Truth
located? Florida somewhere, right?”

“The offices are near Miami.” She reached into her purse for her cell phone and checked for missed calls. Only three, all from regular sources, probably wondering why she hadn’t been in touch for a couple of days. She flipped her phone shut and put it back in her purse. “But I imagine if people knew I was researching werewolves, I’d get some pretty strange looks there as well. It’s just a lot easier to hide in big cities than in towns like this. People don’t know your business in the city.”

“Yeah, that’s nice sometimes, but I kind of like it here.” He glanced around the room with a smile of fondness. “It’s sort of comforting not to be surrounded by strangers all the time, don’t you think?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t really know. I’m usually surrounded by strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger.” He leaned closer to the table. “In fact, we were friends once upon a time. I’d like to think we could be again.”

Surely he was joking.

Andrea had been a shy but eager sophomore when she’d first exchanged words with Sean. Sure, his easygoing smile, helpful advice and gracious praise for her writing had coaxed her into a sense of friendship for at least a year or so, but they’d never socialized outside the student newsroom or the one or two classes they’d shared. Once Andrea flexed her writing skills and landed some of the juiciest assignments on the school-run newspaper, Sean’s attitude toward her changed. He’d become more competitive, less sociable, and Andrea had realized Sean Hunter had only treated her kindly to begin with because he’d never seen her as a threat.