Page 15 of Bred By the Wolfman

Marian frowns. “I don’t think I should,” she says, now uncertain. “I probably shouldn’t even be giving you this?—”

Before she can finish her sentence, I snatch the piece of paper with Dee’s address right out of her hand.

She huffs with indignation. “Sir!”

“Sorry,” I tell her, heading for the door. At least I was able to get this much. It should be enough to locate Dee. “You don’t understand, but I have to find her.”

Then I rush back out the way I came in.

My heels are practically on fire as I hop into my car and turn on the navigation. I type in the address and then hit GO.

My GPS leads me deeper into Aston, back toward the seedy end of town. It’s only a few minutes to the apartment complex, which is rundown and falling apart on the outside. The stairs are rickety, and she’s up on the second floor.

I don’t like that hazard. She could lean too hard on the railing and tip right off the side if I’m not there to watch out for her.

Fuck. Danger is everywhere in the world. I don’t know why I thought I could handle this.

I park in the lot, which is on an unsettling slope, and step out. That one should be hers—number four. Navigating my way up the slope to the old, haphazard stairs, I find they’re just cement blocks laid down with big gaps between them.

Not safe at all.

I reach the top floor and walk across the landing to the apartment marked with a “4.” Then I slowly raise one knuckle and knock.

I might be doing something really, really stupid right now. Maybe Amanda—no, Dee—was silent after our second session because she really didn’t want me to know who she was.

That was what we signed up for, isn’t it?

But it’s too late. I’ve knocked, and I hear footsteps on the other side of the door headed towards me.

The knob turns, and the door opens.

The man who answers it is wearing an apron and carrying a bucket of water. He scowls at me.

“What?” he demands. The apartment behind him is...

Completely empty.

“Deanna?” I ask. “Deanna, uh, Jackson?”

The man squints at me. “Do I look like a Deanna?” he snaps.

“No, no.” I wave my hands. “I’m trying to find her.”

The man looks me up and down, from my bare, clawed feet to my pointed ears.

“No girl named that here,” he says pointedly, gesturing at himself. “Maybe she’s the one who moved out. I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He shoos me, and promptly slams the door closed.

I stand on the landing, staring at the “4” that hangs slightly off to one side. I right it, and realize that my hand is trembling.

I expected her to be here. I expected to see her again.

Immediately I pull out my phone and start looking up the property. It’s managed by a rental company, as I expected, so I call them as I head back down the stairs to my car.

At least she isn’t living here anymore.

“Hello, Muer Real Estate Management.”

“Hello, hi,” I say, tapping the handle of my car door to unlock it. “I’m looking for an address. My friend just moved, and I’m...” What, I’m trying to find her? That doesn’t sound suspicious at all. “I’m trying to forward her mail, but I don’t know her new address. I know how to find the damn place, but that’s it.”

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