*****
Brent Benson lived in what looked like a small rundown home, but upon closer inspection, Gwen realized it was separated into two small apartment type sections. There was only one mailbox out front since it was all the same address, but there were two doors—one on either end of the house—and they weren’t sure which one was Brent’s and which was his live-in neighbor. Before Gwen could ask what they were going to do, Gabe headed for the nearest door, knocking on it without hesitation.
It opened and a young woman with a toddler on her hip stared down at them. Dark circles ringed her eyes and her hair was a mess. Something that might have been mashed carrots was smeared all down the front of her shirt, and Gwen nearly took a step back as the stench of a dirty diaper wafted toward her as the wind blew. “I’m sorry,” Gabe said cheerfully, pretending not to notice her disarray, “I think we have the wrong place. We’re looking for Brent Benson?”
“Next door,” she said, her voice monotonous and joyless. “He won’t answer.”
“Why not?” Gabe asked.
“People like to torment him,” she said, shifting the toddler on her hip. “He’s crazier than a loon and everyone knows it. His property has been vandalized, he used to get dozens of prank calls a week, and he was harassed when he went out in public. Now he never leaves his house. Even has his groceries delivered. You’re better off not even wasting your time,” she said, closing the door in their faces before they could even thank her.
She and Gabe looked at each other. “Well, now we know why his phone number is unlisted. Poor guy probably got tired of being harassed every single day. I’d pay to have my number kept private, too,” he said.
“I didn’t know people delivered groceries.”
“Yeah, me neither. That’s odd.”
They headed around to the other door, and Gabe knocked three times and waited. Gwen shifted nervously. A thousand things raced through her mind and she couldn’t wait to talk to him. They were so close to getting answers she could almost taste it. When Gabe knocked again, Gwen saw the curtains in a nearby window pull back a bit. A hint of face peeked out at her, but when he saw her looking, he quickly ducked back, letting the curtains fall back into place. “I don’t think he’s home,” Gabe said. “Maybe he snuck out without being seen?”
“No, he’s definitely home. He’s hiding behind his curtains,” she said dryly, trying not to laugh. “Knock again and introduce yourself.”
Gabe raised his hand to the door, cleared his throat, and knocked again. “Mr. Benson? My name is Gabriel, and I’d like to ask you some questions about the book you wrote a few years back. Can you please come to the door? It’s very important my sister and I speak with you.” When there was no answer, Gabe knocked a fourth time. “Mr. Benson?”
“Go away!”
“Mr. Benson, please come to the door. We’re not here to mock you. I promise. We just wanna talk.”
She heard something clatter to the ground as he moved through the house, and the door was thrown open a second later. Gwen found herself face to face with a rather short man approaching his fifties less than gracefully. His hair was already eighty percent gray, and his middle bulged out beneath his dirty t-shirt. He stared at her with hazel eyes that looked so exhausted with life. “Did you not hear me? I said go away!”
He went to slam the door closed, but Gabe slapped his hand against it, holding it in place. “Mr. Benson, please. Just give us a chance to ask you a few questions. We’d really like to take a look at any notes you might still have. It would really help us—”
“I’m not falling for that again!” he shouted, smacking Gabe’s hand out of the way. As he went to close the door in their faces, Gwen blurted the first thing that came to mind.
“Our cousin was killed by a werewolf!” The door stopped just as it was about to close, and it opened up a crack—just enough for Brent to peek out at them cautiously. “Please, Mr. Benson. We’re just trying to get some answers. Not knowing what she went through is driving us crazy.”
“You’re serious?” The door opened a little further, and Gwen thought she could see a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. “If this is a sick joke…”
“It’s not,” Gabe said softly. “Our cousin was killed by a werewolf, and we think he might be after us, too. We’ve been trying to do research on werewolves, but all we can find is popular modern stories that don’t do us any good.”
“And you won’t find anything else out there unless you know where to look,” Brent said mysteriously.
“Will you help us?” Gabe asked, his eyes pleading. “We have nowhere else to go for this information.” Brent looked like he was contemplating whether this was too good to be true. “We’ll buy you lunch at the nearby diner if you’ll sit down with us and answer any questions we have.” Gwen glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, wondering why he was asking for a public meeting. Surely Brent was more likely to agree to a private sit down?
“Alright. Let me grab some things real quick, and I’ll meet you down there.”
He closed the door, but not before Gwen caught a glimpse of the giddy expression on his face. She got the feeling that the two of them had just made his day—maybe even his life. In one quick conversation, they had somehow managed to validate his work where nobody else had before. It would hopefully be enough to get him to open up freely about everything he knew.
“Why are we meeting him at the diner?” Gwen asked as they headed back to the car.
“We don’t know this guy, and I wanna be in public if he decides to freak out on us. I’m just trying to think ahead and plan for any possibility.”