Cry Wolf by Angela Campbell Page A

name. “Thanks—for the money, I mean.”
    “No problem.”
    As she climbed into her car, she called the Truth ’s main office to track down Dean, the intern who had supplied Brandon with that photo. She was told the kid was out sick, had been all week. Just her luck. Next she called Reed’s mother to get permission to have him accompany her on her werewolf hunt. Andrea ended up having a thirty-minute conversation with the woman who was every bit as friendly and likable as her son.
    By the time Andrea arrived at the Dispatch office, she had also managed to call and get flight information and departure times. With any luck, she would be out of here this time tomorrow.
    “You look like you’re ready and raring to go.” Sean greeted her with a grin, looking a little bleary-eyed. Andrea felt a pinch of ridiculous jealousy imagining one reason he might not have slept much. “Don’t tell me you’re actually one of those weird morning people.”
    “The early bird gets the worm, Hunter.”
    She glanced at Sean. His wardrobe had reverted to jeans, although he’d tried to dress it up a little with a crisp white shirt and a brown sport coat. He even wore a tie, although it was loose and hanging slightly off-kilter.
    He looked as gorgeous as sin.
    She tore her eyes away from him. “So, who is this person we’re going to see, and why? I thought we were hitting the Chamber today.”
    She’d wanted to do that interview yesterday, but Sean had other plans. He’d accompanied her to the high school for her Werewolf Club interview and then he’d driven her past several sighting hot spots. It had been after six when they’d parted ways, and then she’d gone back to talk to Joey Phelps, the owner of the farm whose property ran parallel to the road that was one of those hot spots.
    Now Sean was taking her to meet someone else.
    “His name is Chris Parkins. Real nice guy, but a bit of a character. He saw the werewolf last year.”
    Another eyewitness? She had been so hoping to talk to some skeptics today. Andrea sighed. “Okay, can we please make a pact right now to stop calling this thing a werewolf?”
    “What do you want to call it?”
    “I don’t know. Mystery animal?”
    “Totally unoriginal, Andi.”
    “Fine. What would you suggest?”
    “I’m pretty fond of Woodbine Werewolf myself.” No surprise there since he’d coined the phrase in the first article he’d written about it.
    She scoffed. “Please.”
    “You know, some parts of the country have similar sightings. They’re calling them Man-Dogs.” He smirked when she looked at him in disbelief. “See, I have researched this subject a little myself, you know.”
    That wasn’t what Andrea found absurd. “Man-Dog? That’s worse than werewolf.”
    He sighed. “You’re not going to be happy with anything, are you, Sunshine?”
    “If you give me a good suggestion, I will,” she promised sweetly.
    “What did Joey Phelps call it when you interviewed him ?”
    Andrea sent him a startled look before she could censor herself. She wouldn’t exactly call Sean Hunter and Joey Phelps friends who chitchatted every night by phone, so either Sean was psychic or he’d followed her last night.
    The obvious answer irritated her.
    “He had more to say about you than he did about this…animal.” She turned her attention to the road. “Obviously he’s not a fan of yours. He swears he’s never seen anything suspicious on his property. Not a footprint. Not even a piece of fur.”
    Phelps had been a tough source to crack, all right. Once he’d opened up, he’d had plenty to say, though. He didn’t believe any such creature existed, he was mad because sightseers trampled his crops hunting it anyway and he wouldn’t budge from his belief Sean had made it all up as a story simply to sell newspapers. Andrea didn’t think Sean would ever sink that low— that much she could say.
    Sean shrugged. “I was driving by and saw you turn into his place last night. I