Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 by Shawn Underhill, Nick Adams Page B

older Asian woman. She looked to be wearing a sweater. She had what I took to be a red quilt draped over her legs. Or some sort of blanket. To me it wasn’t very cold out. Evidently it was to her.
    “They’re not home,” she said again.
    “Who’s not home?”
    “The boys.”
    “Jared and Seth?” I said, to let her know that I wasn’t just casing a random house.
    “As I said, they’re not home,” she replied. “Have yourself a good night.”
    “Too bad,” I muttered, trying to sound disappointed.
    “Bad is right,” she muttered, barely audible. Then she looked away.
    It seemed she expected me to leave. But I didn’t cooperate. I just stood there.
    “Wonder when they’ll get back,” I said. Not exactly a direct question.
    “Tell me,” she said, looking back at me. “What could you want with those two? You look like a respectable young man.”
    I didn’t answer right away. I wondered what made me look respectable. I was wearing tan hiking pants. The sort that could be mistaken for khakis. With my dark windbreaker combined with the tan pants, perhaps to her eyes I appeared as someone who had their act together and cared about their appearance.
    Then I moved a few steps closer to her place. I stopped in her driveway and stood there looking at her. Asking without words for her permission to approach.
    “Come over,” she said. “No use broadcasting our voices.”
    I went up to the edge of her porch. It had no screening. Once I was close I could see her quite clearly in the low light. She was in fact a petite Asian woman. She was no spring chicken, but more than old or infirmed, she struck me as tired.
    “You’re not a friend of theirs,” she said. “I’ve never seen you around here before. What business do you have with them?”
    I ducked her question and said, “You know them well?”
    “Since they were born. Plenty of times I looked after those boys while their mother slaved to keep a roof over their heads.”
    I said, “Can’t say I know their mother.” Suggesting again that I did know her sons.
    “You wouldn’t, I suppose. She gave up and moved away years ago. Finally met a man that was good to her. A man named Moore. They live up in the lakes region now. Have a good life, from what I hear.”
    I waited a moment before saying, “Any idea when Jared or Seth will be back?”
    “Probably long after I’ve locked up and gone to bed.”
    Shit . Saturday night and they were probably out stealing more dogs. Or fighting dogs.
    Very quietly the old woman said, “You’re not in their sort of business, are you?”
    “No.”
    “Then my assumption was correct. You’re not the sort to be mixed up in their mess. So what could you possibly want with them?”
    I didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure if I was being played by a nosy old woman. She might be loyal to the Bensons. Or she might have nothing else to do but talk to random people passing by. She didn’t strike me as a liar. But I couldn’t be sure. Her lack of body language made her a difficult person to read.
    “I don’t approve of them,” she finally said.
    That was enough for me. There was truth in her tone.
    “You’re not the first one I’ve heard that from,” I said.
    “The men they’ve become are nothing like the boys they once were. So if you’re looking to do business with the Benson boys, I’ll ask you kindly to be on your way.”
    To hell with it , I thought, and decided to speak the truth.
    “Actually, I’m looking for a missing dog. On behalf of a friend. Rumor has it that this is the place to start looking.”
    She was nodding slowly before I finished.
    “These boys always have dogs,” she muttered. “Different dogs all the time. Other people’s dogs. There’s always something going on.”
    “What do you think of that?”
    “Shameful,” she answered. “They were raised better than that.”
    “Do they trust you?”
    “Always have. No reason not to. But if I hadn’t known them all their lives, I