Loyal Wolf. Linda Johnston O.
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once we’ve done some sightseeing and real camping around here. We love this area, though, and will explore it for fun—or that’s what it’ll look like. But we’ll do some nosing around to find out more about it. That will include where you indicate your anarchists are living.”
“Fine,” she said. “I unfortunately don’t have vacation time I can take right now but I’ll visit you a lot here at the cabin, camp out with you on nights when I don’t have to report for duty early the next day. And—”
“No, not necessary. We’ll hang out in town with you some of the time, get together for lunch or dinner in public, that kind of thing. We’re the ones here undercover, and we’ll handle all the covert investigation stuff. No need for you to get involved.”
Kathlene felt herself rise to a half stand. Her shoulders were tense. Her whole body was stiff, in fact.
Was this man telling her, as her boss, the sheriff, did, that women had no place in down and dirty law-enforcement matters—maybe just pushing paper or bringing coffee?
If that was what he wasn’t saying—but meant—Jock Larabey was going to learn that exactly the opposite was true.
Especially with her.
Kathlene decided not to push the point with this man. Not yet. Instead, she suggested that she give them a quick tour of Cliffordsville.
Even though they must have driven through the town to get here, she could give them a different perspective on it, both as a resident and a peace officer.
Not to mention being the person who thought the town—and possibly way beyond—needed help.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Jock said, and Ralf agreed.
They concurred that Kathlene should drive them. Her chauffeuring them around would help substantiate their cover of Jock being an old friend of hers.
“Kathlene and I are going to talk a little bit first,” Jock told Ralf as they reached her car. “Why don’t you meet us at the front gate to this place? You won’t mind stopping there for a minute, will you, Kathlene?”
The cabin-filled motel area was surrounded by a decorative wooden fence, with a gate near the office that was almost always open. “No, that’s fine,” Kathlene said, although she wondered what was really going on after the two men exchanged looks that appeared to hold a brief, silent conversation. Some Alpha Force business that they weren’t going to tell her about?
If so, that was okay—for now. But it made her even more determined to learn what they really were about.
She looked in the rearview mirror after backing her vehicle out of its space in front of the row of cabins where these men were staying. Only a few other cars were around, including a black, nondescript sedan which, considering its proximity to their cabin, was the one she assumed they had come in.
She glanced again into the mirror after aiming her SUV toward the entrance and saw that Ralf still stood there, apparently waiting for her to leave the area before doing whatever he and Jock had communicated about.
That only piqued her curiosity all the more.
“So how long have you lived in Cliffordsville?” Jock asked as she drove slowly toward the parking area near the entrance.
“About six years,” she said, glancing toward the hot-looking man who was getting her to think about sex a whole lot more than she had in ages. Well, she could think about it all she wanted. But the only action around here would be the impending demise of the anarchist group if it presented the kind of threat she believed it did.
“Did you live in Missoula before you went to college there?”
“Yes.” She knew her voice sounded curt with that answer, but he was now edging too close to topics she refused to discuss. Like her childhood and background. Sex? Hah. She was now being turned off by this man thanks to his chosen topic of conversation.
They passed three other rows of identical cabins before reaching the much larger one that served as the reception area and offices. She pulled into a space nearest the exit gate and parked.
To preclude Jock’s continuing her interrogation, she decided it was time for one of her own. “So tell me about Alpha Force,” she said.
His craggy, handsome face seemed to shutter, but only for an instant. Then he smiled. “I’m sure you’ve been told that we’re a covert military group, and we can’t discuss our methodology with anyone, either other military personnel or civilians.”
“But in a situation like this, where I know you’ve been picked out particularly because of whatever it is you do to look into what’s going on here—”
“So did you always know you wanted to go into law enforcement?” His tone was smooth, but his expression was both wry and warning.
He wasn’t going to tell her anything.
Well, she wasn’t going to tell him anything, either, unless she was sure it would help her cause.
Another car pulled through the gate and parked close to the office. Kathlene pretended to study it.
That was when she saw Ralf approaching on foot from the direction from which they’d driven.
Good. This conversation was clearly over.
* * *
Ralf was now ensconced in the backseat. Although Kathlene turned the car toward town as they exited the motel’s entrance driveway, she told Jock she would drive them farther along this road on their return—past the entry to the formerly abandoned ranch where the people she believed to be anarchists now lived and multiplied.
“That’s where we’ll do whatever recon we decide on later,” she said. “But I figured I’d get you started by showing you the town and innocently drive past the area on our return to your motel room.”
“Thanks,” Jock said. “That’ll work. And I’d like you to tell us everything you know and suspect so Ralf and I will be able to do our job here.”
She heard between the lines. They thought they were going to exclude her.
They weren’t.
Right now, as promised, she headed toward town.
As she drove down Main Street, she chatted about Cliffordsville, the shops they passed, the nature of the place before the anarchists had started appearing. They drove along a well-stocked commercial area, with stores ranging from name-brand casual clothes to a men’s suit outlet to a variety of restaurants from fast-food to nice, sit-down dining.
Main Street was pretty much a straight line, with a few traffic lights to allow drivers to pull onto it from the myriad side streets, some of which were also commercial, and others led to residential areas.
They didn’t drive far enough down it to reach the County Administration Building, City Hall and the Sheriff’s Department. The official part of town sat on the outskirts of the business area.
Kathlene liked Cliffordsville. A lot. She had made it her home.
Unlike Missoula, where she had grown up, it held only good memories for her—at least before.
Nothing controversial.
Not till recently, at least.
But her mind veered in different directions from all she was talking about. She was determining how she was going to take a stand and make it clear to Jock that she would participate in the investigation. Period.
“Where do you live?” Jock asked out of the blue. They had just turned down a side street so she could show them some of the closest residential areas—but she hadn’t intended to show them her house.
A jolt rocked through her body nonetheless. She knew he wasn’t