Undercover Wolf. Linda Johnston O.

newlywed gesture—and nodded. He didn’t release her hand, though. He liked the feel of it as he gripped it.

      His body, unsurprisingly, also reacted as if she was doing more than touching his arm.

      Squelching a sigh, he turned back toward the guide.

      But Kristine acted first, squeezing his arm harder as if to communicate something—like, let me—then called to the man across the aisle.

      “Wendell, my new husband and I have planned to come here for our honeymoon for ages—but now we’re a bit worried. We heard about those poor tourists’ deaths in Acadia National Park. They were mauled, weren’t they? Do the authorities know what kind of animal did it?”

      The man looked stricken, hazel eyes huge beneath his scruffy gray brows. He pulled the microphone away from his mouth, clearly not wanting the crowd on the filled bus to hear. His voice was hardly audible over the bus’s growling engine. “No, ma’am, ‘fraid they don’t have any answers yet—at least none they’re talking about, though they’re looking. I assure you that we’ll keep all of you close on this tour. No one’ll be hurt.”

      “Thank you so much, Wendell.” Kristine sounded relieved and even a bit flirtatious.

      Maybe she was the better one to take the lead on this. What man wouldn’t try to soothe the concerns of a woman as pretty as her—especially when she turned on her vast charm? She hadn’t done that with him, though. Probably a good thing.

      “But,” she continued, “I read that it could be wolves. Are there wolves in Acadia? I researched the park on the internet and thought that there weren’t any wolves around here now.”

      “That’s right.” Wendell nodded. “Used to be in the past, I’ve heard, but not at present. Could be coyotes or even wild dogs, I suppose, though I’ve never heard of any attacking people before. I’m sure the authorities will figure it out soon. Meantime, we’ll just be extra careful. Ah, here we are.”

      The bus pulled in through a gate, and Wendell talked to the park rangers standing in the booth.

      In a short while, the bus was moving again. The park was an amazing conglomeration of mountains overlooking the ocean, as well as numerous lakes. The vistas were wide. The forests were vast—and could hide any number of wild animals such as those Quinn had sensed last night.

      But most wild animals stayed far from humans, even those that presented possible danger. If they attacked, there had to be a reason like hunger, or fear.

      Considering how lush this area appeared, it probably hid a lot of possible prey, so hunger was unlikely.

      Fear? Maybe. Those tourists could have come across some creature in the wild and baited it in some way—even just out of wildlife-loving curiosity—until it attacked.

      But the most likely scenario, in Quinn’s opinion, was that someone—who? and how?—knew of Simon and Grace, their belonging to Alpha Force, and what Alpha Force was. The attack did, after all, occur on the night of a full moon.

      The clues so far were few. But to save Simon and Grace—and maybe even Alpha Force—Kristine and he would nevertheless locate those newlyweds. Fast. They had to.

      And they would also uncover who was trying to frame them, and how … and why.

       Chapter 6

      The bus bumped and climbed slowly along a narrow uphill road. Kristine watched from her sideways angle as the Asian-American driver concentrated on what he was doing. His hands were clasped tightly on the wheel and he frowned while staring straight ahead.

      Glancing out the window beside her, Kristine looked out onto a cliff composed of magnificent rock formations that plunged down to the water below.

      And smiled as she took in the gorgeous sight.

      “It’s beautiful,” she said.

      “Yeah.”

      At his uncharacteristically soft tone, Kristine glanced toward Quinn. He was looking at her.

      She swallowed in confusion. Well, gee. They were supposed to be acting like honeymooners. He was just doing a good job.

      Even so, she quickly turned away from both Quinn and the window.

      Wendell now leaned back in his seat, apparently assuming he’d answered everything Kristine intended to ask. Not so.

      Why wasn’t Quinn jumping in with questions, too? He was the former investigator, not her. So far, Kristine had kept things general and vague. She hadn’t figured out a graceful way to segue into what they really needed to know: Had Grace and Simon been on this tour? That could be hard to ask since the guide hadn’t sought the names of his current passengers, nor even where they were from. He probably didn’t get to know any tourists well enough to identify them by name.

      But there was one thing he could do: now that they were in the park, he could surely point out where the mauled tourists’ bodies had been found.