"He needs help." Brian followed Cushing to the van.

"I know, and we'll get him that. Remember, this was his idea." Cushing climbed into the driver's seat.

"My van. My camera. I drive," Brian said. He pushed Cushing towards the passenger seat and slammed the door. "And, just because it's his idea doesn't mean it's a good one."

Cushing read the directions from his phone, Brian followed dutifully through the town of Nobility, TX. Finally, they arrived at a small white house with a gravel drive.

"I can't believe her coworkers just gave you her number. She knows we're coming, right?"

"Yes," Cushing said. "She knows we're coming, just grab everything, okay?"

"Hope this actually works out," Brian said

They had approached the town's sheriff, who said he wasn't interested in talking about Maverick. The mayor wouldn't speak to them either and even the residents, after initially laughing at the monster hunter's expense, suddenly clammed up when Cushing or Brian asked about Maverick's childhood or his heydays in the 1970s.

"He's got it rough enough. Why don't you just drop it and leave?" Sheriff Glaser said, before ordering them out of the station.

* * *

Cushing knocked on the front door. He hoped she wouldn't require a cash incentive. The hotel owner insisted on being paid daily, in cash, which was depleting his budget.

"I thought I paid when I checked out?" Cushing had asked him.

The man with sunken eyes and a shaking hand laughed. "I got bills son, that'll be cash, thank ya very much."

"Bills?" Cushing said. "Your eyes say meth...but your stomach says alcohol."

The old man smiled. "Son, you ain't ready to know what I do with those dollars."

"Huh. Fair enough. Here's forty bucks."

* * *

From inside, a dog unleashed a torrent of barking while Jet screeched him into submission.

"You wanna help Maverick, Brian? Let's find out more about him," Cushing said.

Jet opened the door and ushered Cushing and Brian inside. The dog, a small gray and tan pug, snorted and growled, clicking its nails on the floor and following them into the kitchen.

"Hush it," Jet said. The dog sneezed defiantly and waddled into the living room.

"Sorry about the mess." Jet pointed to the sink and the dishes. "You guys kinda sprung this on me."

"Not a problem," Brian said.

"This is about Mav, right?" Jet said. "You can talk to my husband, too. He went out for a burger but he'll be back in."

Cushing asked if they could record the interview, Jet acquiesced. Brian quickly set the phone on a small tripod and aimed the camera at Jet. She looked at it as if bullets were going to burst from the lenses.

"Now," she asked. "This isn't going in, right? Because I just got off a nine-hour shift and I look like hell."

"You look perfect," Cushing said.

"Then you are a damn liar." Jet grabbed a cigarette from a pack on the table. She propped open the kitchen door, a wave of humidity pushing back the cool air.

"You guys mind?" She asked.

"Not at all," Cushing said. "Now, Maverick seems...dedicated, almost obsessed."

Jet laughed. She shook her head and took a drag from the cigarette.

"Are you surprised he hasn't given up by now?" Cushing asked.

"No, I'm not surprised he hasn't given up. He won't. He'll lay down and die in the bottoms."

"What happened between you guys?" Brian asked.

"I ask the questions," Cushing said.

"Relax, we'll dub you in," Brian said.

"I don't know, it wasn't...it was a lot of things. What's the word? Resentment! A lot of...resentment. I mean, of course there is that one thing, there's always the straw. You'll have to ask him."

"He's not exactly forthcoming about your relationship," Cushing said. "Or anything to do with his family. Only his search. His quest, if you will."

"You'll have to ask him. If he wants to say something, he will."

Jet took another drag, releasing the smoke with a tired exhale. "Actually, ask him about the letter. Or the feet."

"The feet?" Cushing asked. "You mean the casts he has?"

"No, not those," Jet said. "He'd kill me for saying anything, but ask him about the feet. He'll know."

"Why don't you tell us?" Brian asked.

"All I'm gonna say is the last time he saw the monster was right before his daddy left him."

"His father ran off, correct?" Cushing exchanged glances with Brian.

"Yeah, right after that time he said he shot at it or whatever. Just came home and he was gone."

"Jet! Oh shut up, ya little bastard," a voice yelled at the barking dog in the living room.

"That's my husband," Jet said.

"Does he know Maverick?" Cushing asked.

"Yes," Jet said, as Roman entered the room with a grease-stained bag of hamburgers. "They know each other pretty well."

"Oh hey guys," Roman said. He turned to Jet, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I talked to these guys yesterday."

"I guess it might seem a little weird," Jet said.

"Hey, if you wanna catch Mav, I think he's going down to the bottoms tomorrow." Roman unwrapped his burger.

Jet tossed the cigarette and closed the kitchen door. "Is there anythingelse?"