Hidden in Plain Sight. Amy Lee Burgess

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      The small, light green leaves adorning the maple trees on either side of the winding country road danced in the spring breeze.

      I watched them from the car window, mesmerized by their peaceful beauty. Vaughn sprawled out across the backseat, his nose buried in a book.

      Murphy drove the car, but I knew he enjoyed the spring scenery every bit as much as I did.

      “We’re nearly there.” He aimed a smile in my direction.

      Easton, Vermont was about halfway between Stowe and Waterbury, perched on the edge of the Little River State Park. The park was Maplefair territory. One other pack, Snowmoon, resided in Vermont—the state was rich in parks and forested land—but Little River was Maplefair’s. They didn’t go to the state park Snowmoon favored and Snowmoon didn’t come to theirs. It wasn’t forbidden, just ill-mannered. Packs were territorial and one of the duties of the Regional Council was to sort out various territory complaints and challenges as they arose.

      “I haven’t seen Jossie in ages.” I spoke my thoughts aloud to include him, but Murphy had never met anyone in Maplefair and had only the slightest idea who I was talking about.

      “Yeah, it’s a terrible long way between here and Boston,” he remarked and distracted me from the spring wind. His smirk was sarcastic. He was angry at Jossie for not coming to see me during the past two years I’d been living in Boston.

      “Murphy, I took myself away from the Pack,” I reminded him.

      “Yeah, I know that, but that doesn’t preclude people taking some time out of their lives to say hello once in a goddamn while.”

      Vaughn, the coward, was acutely aware of every word we spoke. I could tell he was listening because he didn’t turn the pages though he hadn’t looked up from his book.

      “I barely spoke to her when I was in Riverglow.” I was defensive even if a small part of me wanted to agree with him. “I told you we had that falling out. After that first Christmas card, we still didn’t really see each other much. Maybe the occasional phone call. We’d see each other at Regionals if we went. We didn’t always go.”

      There were a few reasons, but the primary one was because of my wolf. It had been unspoken but true. My wolf had never been one to follow the leader and before I’d started to bow out of them, Great Hunts at Gatherings had probably been logistical nightmares for Grey, Elena and Vaughn.

      Beside me Murphy made a disparaging noise in his throat and, for a moment, I thought he might lower his window all the way and spit, but he didn’t. He kept driving.

      “You’re going to be nice to Jossie, right? She is Alpha,” I lectured him and he gave me an indignant look.

      “I’m always nice,” he protested then he laughed. “I’m always civil. At least at first.”

      I sucked in a deep, heady lungful of air and saw the dented red mailbox we’d been looking for at the end of a long dirt driveway.

      Murphy turned in and the Prelude bounced along the rutted length of it for at least a quarter mile until the trees cleared. We saw a large, rather ramshackle farmhouse—two stories with an additional wing built on, as well as a lovely wraparound screened porch. Through the screens I saw lots of bright white wooden rocking chairs and a small glider.

      The barn had been converted into a garage but only one bay was open, and that one was filled with sawhorses and tools rather than a car.

      A dusty black Ford Explorer was parked in front of the closed bay, a baby stroller positioned by the porch steps.

      Murphy parked behind the Explorer and we got out. As he and Vaughn went to the trunk to get our luggage, I moved closer to the porch, drawn by the stroller. Kathy hadn’t mentioned that Jossie and Nate had a baby. It was possible—they were Alphas.

      Bright yellow daffodils waved in the breeze from a small flower garden in front of the porch. Clothes flapped on a line erected near the additional wing. Baby things hung next to adult-sized garments.

      I was about six feet from the porch steps when I heard the growl.

      Murphy and Vaughn heard it too and, from the corner of my eye, I saw them turn.

      “Stanzie, get inside the porch.” Murphy’s voice was urgent but soft. The fact he didn’t yell sent alarm bells jangling down my spine. He had a better view of the woods behind the house and barn than I did. My view was blocked by the addition.

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