Free Her Dear and Loving Husband by Meredith Allard

here.”
    “There’s life in here during the day too. You should try it some time.”
    “Perhaps I should.”     
     He glanced across to the opposite end of the library where Jennifer stamped books behind the librarians’s desk. As she worked, a man James didn’t recognize waited to speak to her. He was a short, nervous-looking fellow in a suit and tie, uncomfortably formal among the relaxed young college crowd wearing t-shirts and blue jeans, even more formal than the professors who were also mostly the t-shirt and blue jeans type. 
    “Excuse me,” the man said. He handed her a business card which she looked over. 
    “Can I help you, Mr. Hempel?” she asked.
    “I’m looking for a professor named Wentworth. I was just by his office and one of his students said she saw him in here. Is he around somewhere?”
    “Is there a problem?” 
    James looked away, not wanting Sarah, the man, or anyone else noticing that he could understand their conversation though he was too far away. He didn’t know the man and couldn’t guess what he might want, though he felt some foreboding at the man’s sudden intrusion into his private world. James watched Sarah, who had turned back to shelving books, and he hoped she would finish soon. 
    “Nothing like that,” the man said. “I’m writing an article for the Salem News and I wanted to ask him a few questions. Just looking for a source.”
    “That’s Professor Wentworth across there,” Jennifer said. “The blond man in the blue shirt wearing glasses.”
    James resumed writing, his gaze focused on the paper. He didn’t turn around when he heard heavy, plodding footsteps behind him.  
    “Professor Wentworth? James Wentworth?”
    James looked at the man. “Yes?” he said.
    The man handed him a business card that read Kenneth Hempel, Staff Writer, The Salem News . 
    “How do you do, Professor. I wanted to ask a few questions for an article I’m writing. I hope you don’t mind.”
    “No, not at all. Please,” James gestured to an empty chair beside him, “sit down. What is your article about?”
    “Supernatural happenings in Salem.”
    James laughed. “That’s not particularly original, is it, Mr. Hempel? Supernatural happenings in Salem have been a topic of discussion for over three hundred years.”
    “But I have a unique angle. The stories I’m going to be telling are true.”
    James pushed his glasses back on his nose. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can help you. I teach literature. I can tell you anything you want to know about Dickens and Shakespeare, even Jane Austen or John Keats, but I’m afraid the supernatural is not my sphere. I’d be happy to help you get in touch with one of the religious studies professors here.” 
    “It isn’t specifically the supernatural I’m interested in. It’s vampires.”
    “Vampires. Really.” 
    James glanced at Sarah, who was whispering to a student. She didn’t seem to notice them. He was grateful to the student and hoped the young man had a complicated question that would keep her busy awhile. At that moment, he wished, more than anything, that she would leave for the other side of the library, or home.
    “That’s right. I understand you know a lot about vampires.”
    “Where did you get that idea?”
    “A trusted source.”
    James studied the reporter, his hands forming a triangle under his chin. He had to appear nonchalant, like this inquisition was the most natural conversation in the world.
    “Well,” he said, “I can discuss Bram Stoker’s Dracula with you if you like. There’s certainly a lot of vampire literature out there. Some of the books aren’t half bad, even if it’s not my favorite genre.”
    “I’m not interested in literary vampires, Professor. I’m interested in real vampires that walk the streets right here in Salem and probably all over the world.”
    James tried to see beneath the lines in the reporter’s face, lines so deeply ingrained it was as if every