Free Cry Wolf by Angela Campbell

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