Chapter 4
“She was there.”
While still a wolf, Jock had loped through the woods back to the house near which he’d previously shifted. As planned, Ralf had gotten inside and had opened the door for him when he’d returned.
Jock had just morphed back to his human form. He’d grabbed the clothes that Ralf had folded neatly and left on a cleaned spot on the floor, then threw them on.
Now, inside the dismal and filthy hovel, he was dressed and angry and wanted to slam something. Except for spotting a few flaws in their security and some possible entry points, his initial observation had been totally inconclusive. He still had no sense of the extent of the likelihood for peril looming around the former ranch, but he definitely hadn’t ruled out the conceivability of those now staying there being at least skilled and dedicated terrorists and possible anarchists, as well.
He needed to get inside, though, to check for the extent of their weaponry.
Now he knew all his frustration was evident as he spoke to Ralf.
“Who? Kathlene? Where was she?” Ralf had placed his equipment on the floor and was now stowing it in his backpack again. He stopped, though, facing Jock in the dim glow of the flashlight he had left on for illumination.
“Near the old ranch, outside the fence like I was, also hiding in the woods. But I scented and heard her, then saw her. Damn the woman. She must have been following us. Does she like throwing herself into potential danger?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” Ralf said drily. Which only made Jock want to slam something all the more, like the wall. Not Ralf, and certainly not Kathlene—although, had she been nearby, it wouldn’t have been outside the realm of possibility for him to grab and shake her.
And he knew what a bad idea that would be...touching her again at all. He’d want to kiss those defiant lips, and more.
Well, he would have time to cool down before seeing her at lunch again tomorrow.
By then he would have thought of a brilliant way to convince her to back off and let Ralf and him do their jobs.
At least he hoped so.
“Did she know it was you?” Ralf asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Of course not.” But Jock wondered nevertheless. Had she just shown up there because that was what she did—keeping an eye on the place where she thought a lot of dangerous people were gathering? That was a viable theory, of course. But unlikely for this evening.
Had she instead followed them—him?
That was something else he would have to check into tomorrow.
* * *
Kathlene was tired when she reported to work the next morning.
That wasn’t surprising. She hadn’t slept much.
Her mind kept buzzing around thoughts of her new Alpha Force best friends. Especially the so very sexy Jock Larabey, her supposed old buddy.
And their attempts to exclude her from the investigation.
Plus that strange visit of hers to the anarchists’ enclave last night, thinking she would see Jock hanging around outside, near where she was, after leaving Ralf at that old house...but instead seeing only a wolf.
A particularly strange-acting wolf...
Now, inside the sheriff’s station, in the assembly room waiting for the day’s instructions, she kept herself from yawning by sheer willpower.
The dozens of other deputies taking their seats on folding chairs around her would only rib her about it if they saw.
The noise around her was growing—loud male voices hailing each other, chairs being dragged around the wooden floor, shrill feedback from a microphone that Sheriff Melton Frawley’s top assistant, Undersheriff George Kerringston, was testing from the row of chairs up front that faced the rest.
Hardly any sound of female voices. Oh, yes, there were a couple of other deputies toughing it out like Kathlene. Or, actually, not like Kathlene. Deputy Betsy Alvers and Deputy Alberta Sheyne were perfectly happy being obedient underlings who did as Melton said, filling out paperwork at the station and bringing coffee to the big, brave men in the department.
The other couple of female deputies had resigned and moved away. There wasn’t even a local police department for them to join, since the county sheriff’s department was the only law enforcement in this area other than the state highway patrol on the major nearby roads. Only Kathlene attempted to keep up the job as they had once all known it.
That had become a daily fight. But she was no quitter.
And now, with her concerns about the apparent anarchists, she felt she owed it to the town, to the many people who remained her friends, to see this through.
“Hey, good lookin’.”
A thin man dressed just like her sat down on the empty chair beside her, sliding over so their hips met.
“Hey, ugly guy,” she said back, turning to smile up into the face of Senior Deputy Tommy Xavier Jones, the man who appeared to be her only supporter in the higher ranks of the department.
Tommy X had been a deputy for nearly twenty years. He had short gray hair, a long, almost equine face, and a lot of wrinkles. He was the tallest member of the department, was great friends with the town’s ranking politicians and dated a county commissioner, who also happened to be Kathlene’s friend.
He could get away with bucking the current regime within the Sheriff’s Department—and did.
And fortunately, he remained Kathlene’s champion, too.
“So—do you anticipate anything exciting today?” he asked, nodding toward the front of the room where Sheriff Frawley was about to take the microphone.
“Here? Nope. But I’m having lunch with my old college friend Jock, the one I told you about. I saw him briefly yesterday. He’s here with a friend on the way to Yellowstone and I’ll spend as much time as I can with them before they leave.”
Even with someone as close to her as Tommy X, Kathlene had decided to maintain the cover story—partly because she’d been instructed to if she wanted continuing help from the elite and covert Alpha Force, whatever it was, and partly because she didn’t dare allow her personal investigation of the anarchists become the knowledge of anyone here, not even Tommy X. Tommy X was a nice guy, trustworthy—but if he let even a hint of what was going on drop in front of anyone here who wanted to curry favor with Sheriff Frawley, she’d be toast.
“Attention, please.” That was Kerringston, shouting into the microphone although he didn’t have to. He knew that. He’d been told nearly daily since his promotion to undersheriff six months earlier, when the former sheriff had retired and Melton Frawley was promoted into his position.
Before the good old days had ended, Kathlene thought. Unlike today.
Kerringston gave
