Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

together by our own Mart Lawler especially for this group.”
    Clark held up a green sheet of paper. “It will give you plenty of further information to help you enjoy the ruins. We have a beautiful day for the trip and our transportation is just outside, so let’s get started.”
    The people nearest the door began the migration and slowly filtered through the hotel’s entryway. As I had last night, I hung back, letting the others break up into clusters of friends who wished to ride together.
    Clark and his wife, Sylvia, stood curbside, directing traffic. Clark was outfitted in bona fide safari clothes today — khaki from head to foot. Sylvia wore a variation on the theme — short-sleeved cotton shirt in white, a scarf at her neck, and a dark green, slim-fitting skirt that draped to the ankle. Her sneakers and socks looked comfortable and coordinated and very, very retro. Glossy brunette hair peeked out from beneath her straw pith-style hat. Chunky gold earrings glittered in the sun. Obviously, she felt one didn’t need to sacrifice style merely because one was about to enter a jungle.
    I felt like a tourist, in comparison, and took a few steps in the opposite direction. But as I approached the only vehicle whose door still stood open to indicate a vacancy, Alan streaked past me. He smiled an apology. “Have to sit with my wife,” he said as he climbed inside. The door closed, leaving me on the sidewalk with only Clark, Sylvia, and Mart as company.
    “You’ll be coming with us, Miss Belsar,” Clark said, walking up beside me and sliding his arm around my elbow. He steered me toward the lead vehicle, where the other two waited. “It’s best like this, I think, because you’ll be able to ask all the questions you want on the ride out.”
    “Sounds great, Clark. Please, call me Allison.”
    “Do you mind taking the rear seat?” he asked, holding the door. “Sylvia gets carsick if she isn’t up front.”
    “Not a problem.” I gathered my pack into my arms, ducked my head and climbed inside.
    From my reading, I knew we needed to travel in high-bodied vehicles because of the poor roads. As Mart had mentioned, during the rainy season the roads turned into muddy ruts. Improvements were taking place all the time, but the literature I’d consulted before we left warned me that a bumpy ride lay ahead.
    The sun shone, bright and glorious, in a sky of deep, vibrant blue. A few enormous white clouds hung overhead, adding to the picture postcard appeal of the scene. Old buildings constructed of wood shared the blocks with newer concrete structures. We passed a two-story structure Mart said was the courthouse and I had to admire its charming veranda bordered by wrought-iron scrollwork. It wasn’t an especially busy day at the market, so the square opposite wasn’t very crowded.
    “There will be plenty of time for shopping and exploring the city, Allison,” Clark assured me, twisting around in his seat to face me. “Our trekkers enjoy the marketplace almost as much as they do the ruins,” he added with a smile. Sylvia echoed his expression but, since her eyes were carefully hidden behind sunglasses, I couldn’t tell if her smile reached her eyes.
    I wriggled in my seat, trying to get comfortable. It was a long road to Tikal and I figured we were in for a tense time with Mart and Clark in such close proximity. But as mile after mile passed, I began to relax. Clark answered a few of my easy questions about the zoo trek program and a few more about how he came to the Rochester Zoo. I tried to ask Sylvia about life with the zoo director, but she seamlessly tossed the question back to Clark without really answering. It’s a trick I’ve seen politicians use on occasion, and I had to admire the skillful manner in which she’d deflected attention. I gave up being a reporter after a time and the conversation turned all small-talky.
    That’s what made it even more startling when Sylvia said, “Mrs. Underwood told me