Dark Wolf Returning (26 page)

Her boss, the sheriff, had only shaken his head when she’d mentioned them. Told her she had one hell of a female imagination.

In essence, told her to bug off and maybe respond to some phone calls from senior citizens who called the cops claiming they heard things because they wanted some attention.

Like she supposedly was doing despite her lesser age.

“Interesting,”
Jock said. He asked her questions—cogent ones that indicated he actually believed her, which made her feel a lot better than it should.

But she managed to explain her own patrol duties—both assigned by the department and assumed by herself because of her concern about the growing number of apparent hunters hanging out at the old ranch that had been unused for years but apparently had been
purchased recently by a relative of one of the men now living there, according to public records. Or at least it had been purchased by someone with the last name Tisal, but not Nate Tisal, the guy who apparently was in charge of the group.

“If anything, they could be terrorists and not also anarchists,” she said, “but when I’ve spoken with any of them, which is rare, their comments suggest
that they hate any kind of authority, not only local.”

“If they’re either,” Jock said, “we need to confirm it and shut them down before anyone’s hurt.”

“Definitely,” Kathlene said. “One thing I’m particularly concerned about is that there have been threats made against at least some of the Clifford County Commissioners. A friend of mine who’s a commissioner told me about some anonymous
emails with sources that couldn’t be traced, as well as actual letters mailed to the County Administration Building from other parts of the country. They apparently tell the commission to back off from enacting some laws currently under consideration that would help enforce state regulations to protect wildlife and require the arrest of poachers. The sheriff said he’s got some officers looking
into it but nothing’s been found so far. It’s not certain that the anarchists are to blame, of course—but with the timing and all, that’s my suspicion.”

“Got it,” Jock said. “We’ll look into that, too. Right now, though, let’s go over our cover story.”

“Yeah,” Ralf said. He’d been leaning against the cabin wall beside the table sipping water. “Jock’s your old buddy, and we’re both insurance
salesmen from Seattle, which is where Jock supposedly lives these days, too. Don’t we look like insurance salesmen?” He mugged a little toward Kathlene and she laughed.

“’Course we do,” Jock said. “Risk and liability and all that kind of stuff, right?”

“Right,” Ralf responded. “And high premiums, too.”

Both men laughed this time. Great. They apparently had a good working relationship.
But Kathlene hadn’t figured out what Alpha Force was and why it was considered a particularly special military team.

Good thing she had made friends in college with Bill Grantham, whose dad had been an army colonel then. Now he was a general working at the Pentagon. Kathlene, frustrated and not knowing what else to do, had wound up explaining her concerns to Bill about what was going on in
Clifford County. General Grantham had listened, then suggested sending in help to scope out their validity. The result had been the deployment here of members of this covert unit. But why Alpha Force? What was Alpha Force all about? Kathlene had no idea...yet. But she would definitely learn.

“You’ll need to explain insurance to me one of these days,” she made herself joke. Then she got serious.
“And also about what your special unit’s all about and how you’ll be dealing with the situation here.”

“Sure,” Jock responded. “Once we’ve done our recon and we see what we’re actually up against.”

But why was it that Kathlene had the sense that the last thing that hot, amusing, obviously determined Jock Larabey wanted to do was to let her know what Alpha Force was really about?

“I’ll give you my schedule,” she told them. “I’ll want to be with you as much as possible.”

“No need,” Jock said. “We’ll handle it.”

She glanced at him. He was sharing a look with Ralf that clearly excluded her. What weren’t they saying?

“My participation, helping out? That’s part of the plan,” she said coolly.

“Not exactly.”

“Yes, exactly.”

He just glared at her,
but only for a moment before moving on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Now, as I started to say, we’re here from Seattle, which is where we ostensibly live. Right now we’re here visiting my old buddy Kathlene on our way to tour Yellowstone 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.

Copyright © 2014 by Linda O. Johnston