Guardian Wolf - By Linda O. Johnston Page 0,3

some odd happenstance, could either have been Simon Parran?

She had seen no indication last night of anyone staking out the storage facility for potential thieves. Unless, of course, that was the intent of the person she had glimpsed so near dawn and so briefly. Or the person Kristine had seen just after sunset. He, at least, couldn’t have been a shifter, since they all changed as the full moon rose in the darkness of night.

A lot to check into.

As promised, she called Kristine. “You awake?”

The sergeant muttered something, then said, “Of course.”

“Take your time. In an hour or so, you can go back to the investigation you started yesterday. I’ll want you to bring Tilly to the hospital for therapy visits this afternoon. Meantime, get some rest.” Kristine wasn’t reporting for nurse duty until tomorrow.

“Yes, ma’am,” her aide said crisply, humor in her tone. “I’ll get an extra forty winks for you, too.”

Smiling, Grace called the medical center–commander’s office. She learned from his secretary that he would squeeze her in first thing that morning.

After donning white hospital scrubs and attractive yet comfortable rubber-soled shoes, she left for the hospital next door. On arrival, she stopped in a doctor’s lounge she’d seen yesterday, grabbed a spare medical jacket from its supply of extras, and pinned onto it the name tag she’d been given.

The medical-center building was vast and smelled of antiseptics overlying odors of wounds and disease. As Grace hurried through the halls, she glanced at the faces of people she passed. She recognized a few she’d met yesterday, but their scents were not the one she had smelled in last night’s moonlight.

In a few minutes, she arrived at the commander’s office.

“Have a seat, Lieutenant.” Colonel Nelson Otis waved in the direction of the chairs facing his gray metal desk, where file folders were stacked in six neat piles. Like Grace, he was both a military officer and a medical doctor.

“Thank you, sir.” Grace sat down.

Colonel Otis was a large man, also dressed in a white lab jacket. His face was round, his gray hair a stubble that started halfway back on his head. He sat behind the desk in his large, military-pristine office, regarding her so intensely over half-glasses that she felt uncomfortable.

But she regarded him right back with an unwavering stare. She had long ago learned to deal with people who attempted to intimidate her for no reason other than to stroke their egos. She had to be careful with her attitude, now that she was in the military, but in most Alpha Force situations, she fortunately did not have to impress the brass to whom she ostensibly reported. Her real commanding officers were on the East Coast, at Ft. Lukman on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

On the other hand, she had to get along with folks on her missions, especially egotistical military sorts. She made herself look away first.

“What did you think of your first day here yesterday, Lieutenant?” the colonel asked. “Did you find out who our thief is?”

She doubted he would be so sarcastic with a man in her position. He of course had no idea of her special abilities, or why she was much better qualified to find the missing hazardous substances than almost any other member of the military.

He certainly didn’t know how she had patrolled the air base and medical center last night.

“Not yet, sir. But I will.”

“Don’t get overconfident,” he snapped. “I’ve had not only local military security but also investigators from the U.S. Air Force Office of Special Investigations check things out, and they found nothing definitive. Because of the sensitive nature of what’s being stolen, and the need for a quick resolution, I asked for additional help—and they had you and your buddies assigned to Zimmer. But none of you seems the kind to figure this out fast. A medical doctor, a flight communications officer and some NCOs—who the hell are you?”

“We’re members of Alpha Force, Colonel.” Grace knew that the pride that came through in her tone would only irritate him more. “I know you’ve been told we’re a covert special ops force, sir.” If he only knew how special…

“But nothing more about you,” he asserted belligerently. He was aware, though, that all Alpha Force members who had been sent for this assignment were women, which undoubtedly factored into his attitude. He seemed all old-school military to her.

“No, sir,” she responded politely. “As I said, our operations are covert. But you can always speak with General Greg Yarrow, who oversees our