Читать книгу Rescue Operation - Lenora Worth - Страница 15

THREE

Ava’s heart hadn’t jumped this much since basic training. She’d heard enough to be cautious, of course.

Oliver Davison had been around off and on for months now and he’d barely noticed Ava, so why did she suddenly have strange currents moving through her system each time he looked at her? Probably because today, he’d focused on her and implied she’d failed. But then, he’d failed, too. And he’d lost someone he loved through a brutal murder. The team had been briefed about him before he ever arrived. His fiancée, Madison Ackler, had been the Red Rose Killer’s first victim. Ava didn’t know if that was a coincidence or there was a history there, but she wasn’t going to grill the man on it. She did know that Madison Ackler and Boyd Sullivan had gone to high school together.

She had to remember that and try to be kind about things. But while she felt sympathy for his loss, she still had a job to do. Or maybe she was tense around him because she’d lost someone she loved, too, and they had that in common.

Stop making excuses.

They had been forced together but in the worst kind of way. Over death and a missing child and an evil, sick man who wouldn’t stop until they caught him. But that didn’t make her ready to share her past or her other failures with Oliver Davison. She didn’t want him to do an FBI analysis on her either.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, true concern in the question.

“I will be,” she replied. And then to hide all the emotions boiling up inside of her, she tore into her burger. Stress eating to the rescue.

It had been a long, tough day and he’d gotten in her way and gotten to her. That wouldn’t happen again. Dealing with an intense, dogged FBI agent one-on-one was different from watching him across the room. Not that she’d done that. Okay, maybe once or twice. And he must have noticed her, too, since he knew she guzzled coffee like a brewing machine.

But enough of that for now.

“Tomorrow, I go back to the spot Roscoe alerted on and we dig some more. Roscoe is never wrong, so there’s something there we’re missing. I hope whatever was buried there didn’t get washed away. And, Agent Davison, I really need you to stay out of my way.”

“I was in your way today?”

Yes, you with your green eyes and that messy hair and your black working T-shirt. You have those sad eyes and that bad attitude. Yes, you.

“You held me up with your repeated, pointed questions.”

“Part of my job.”

“Don’t do it again. And please stop using that excuse.”

He grinned and dipped a french fry into a glob of ketchup. “I’ll take the west end of the woods and you can take the east.”

“Agreed.” Then she took a sip of the water the waitress had also brought and wondered if the air-conditioning had conked out. “I’m concerned that Sullivan might have the boy. He could have easily killed me today, but he didn’t. Someone shot at me, though. I don’t know if that someone was with him or after him, but I’m thinking with him because that makes more sense to me.”

“And protecting him from you as you suspected,” Oliver replied. “They could use the boy as leverage for an escape.”

“I’ve already considered that, but why didn’t they do that today?”

“Exactly, which is why I questioned you so heavily earlier,” he said, his tone apologetic now. “We have to consider every angle. You know how it goes with serial killers.”

“No, I don’t know how it goes, but when I saw him today I certainly understood the horror of what he’s done. I could have easily died out there and he would have gotten away with murder again. I hope we find him so I can ask him why he let me live.”

“I’d like to ask him a few things, too.”

Ava felt that tug again. Her heartstrings were getting a workout today. “I’m sure we’ll have to stand in line,” she replied, trying to stay on topic.

“Maybe you just showed up at the wrong time, surprised him and caught him off guard. Or maybe he knew you had a detail on you and he’d be shot dead if he did try to kill you.”

“Buster was right there, but he didn’t get in a shot because everything happened so fast.”

“You said it yourself. Buster’s being there along with Roscoe helped to save you.” Oliver dipped another fry. “And the shooter saved Boyd Sullivan. It makes sense he’s had a willing accomplice all this time.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Ava admitted. “Turner Johnson’s parents are so distraught and angry right now, it’s hard to watch. And I get that. First, the kid goes missing from his yard and now they find out a dangerous serial killer is out in those woods, too. Then a storm hits. I can’t imagine that kind of fear.”

Oliver drained his coffee, his brow furrowed in frustration. “We have to hope he’s found shelter, at least.”

“I have another concern to consider, too,” she said. “Those missing dogs Sullivan let out of the training center that night when he killed two of my coworkers. Some of the dogs still missing suffer severe PTSD and they could be roaming those woods. If Turner Johnson happens to come upon one of them, he could get hurt.”

“You need to be careful on all fronts,” Oliver said, his eyes holding concern again. “You got off easy today, Airman Esposito. But I have a gut feeling the Red Rose Killer is not done with you yet.”

“Call me Ava,” she said. “Since you’re trying to scare me to death and all, I feel as if we’re bonding.”

“Call me Oliver, since I can thank you for the heartburn I’m surely going to have later,” he replied, his expression wry. “I’m not trying to scare you. After watching you in action today, I don’t think you can be rattled. And that scares me. Sullivan’s a dangerous man.”

From the way Oliver said that, she was reminded of how personal this had become for him. After all, he had a very good reason to hunt down Boyd Sullivan.

But she wasn’t going to pry into the horror of that reason. She just prayed they’d both find what they were looking for.

* * *

“Okay, Roscoe, let’s do this again,” Ava said after Oliver had walked with her and Buster back to the marked spot the next morning. Word from the night shift wasn’t good. There’d been no sign of the boy or the Red Rose Killer and no alerts from the K-9s. But they’d found several fresh campsites and patches of spent shells.

“Some from our weapons and some from whoever was shooting at you with an M4 rifle,” Oliver reported. “Whoever it is, thankfully, they aren’t a very good shot.”

The storm had passed but it had left a lot of broken limbs and washed-over bramble in its path. Ava accepted that they wouldn’t get very far today, but determination kept her from giving up. The sun was shining today, though, and even at seven in the morning, the late summer heat promised to be scalding hot.

Leaving his official SUV up on the muddy road into this area, Oliver gave instructions to a team that had arrived in another vehicle and brought off-road vehicles with them to continue the search. Then he and Ava trekked through the woods to begin another grueling day. But he’d told Ava he wanted to check around this spot again, too, since Sullivan had been in the area.

Oliver walked around the area by the cave, watching as Roscoe took up right where he’d left off after Ava had let him sniff the miniature toy and the boy’s cap she’d brought back with them again today.

“Find,” she told the Labrador.

Roscoe started digging again in the same spot near the entrance of the tiny cave.

Oliver hovered off to the side, doing his own search. They really hadn’t shared anything much about each other last night. Ava had realized he was good at his job and determined to find Boyd Sullivan. Now she wanted to know more about him, which shouldn’t be front and center on her mind today. But that sadness that shadowed him had clutched her heart.

“I thought you were leaving,” she said when Oliver finished his search and came back to stand with her. “Did you find anything?”

Oliver gave her a questioning stare. “I am leaving, and no, I didn’t find anything.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead he nodded and turned to catch up with the team that today included Master Sergeant Westley James, Office of Special Investigations Special Officer Ian Steffen, Security Forces Captain Justin Blackwood and several others who worked with the SF, OSI or the Military Working Dog program.

Everyone wanted to capture Boyd Sullivan. But she knew they were all concerned about the boy, too.

Focusing on Roscoe and armed with a small handheld shovel, Ava bent to help dig. Yesterday, she’d allowed Roscoe to sniff the toy and baseball cap that belonged to Turner Johnson and she’d done the same again today, praying the rain hadn’t washed away the scent Roscoe had picked up then.

“Hey, be careful,” Oliver said before heading out.

Ava called him back. “Oliver, hold on.”

He came hurrying back, his serviceable boots kicking up mud. “Yeah?”

“Chad Watson and his partner, Custer, did find one thing yesterday. A Buff.”

He looked confused. “Buff?”

“A stretchy headband-type head cover. Dark navy and floral. Chad turned it over to the crime lab.”

Oliver took off his dark shades and squinted. “Possibly belonging to a woman?”

“Possibly.”

“Interesting. Thanks—I’ll check with Forensics later.” Then he gave her a smile and put his shades back on. “Talk to you soon.”

Ava ignored the warm rush of comfort that encased her and instead watched where Roscoe kept pawing away in a spot near a small rock anchored beside the entrance of the cave.

Buster stood a few feet away with his rifle held near his chest, ever vigilant. He’d been a linebacker in college, and he was six feet of solid wall with a teddy bear’s heart. But fierce when it came to protecting his colleagues and his country.

“What is it?” she asked Roscoe, knowing he’d do his best to show her. Ava did another scan of the rocks and mud.

Then she saw a tiny spot of red poking out of the wet dirt. Getting on her knees, she immediately praised Roscoe. “Good find. Way to go!”

After telling him to stay, she took her shovel and managed to dig around what looked like a small toy similar to the one Turner’s parents had given her yesterday.

“Got it,” she said, clearing the last of the mud away so she could lift the toy out. Wedged between the small rock and the outside wall of the cave, the toy had become jammed in a corner instead of washing away along with the dirt that had covered it before. A little red-and-white robot with big black eyes and a tiny black nylon cape. A small duct-taped label was hidden underneath the cape. And the name Turner Johnson was marked across it in permanent black ink.

Roscoe woofed his approval. The plastic and the material could contain oils and epidermis particles from the boy’s hands, some of which would be buried in the grooves and seams inside the toy. The rock had protected the little robot from getting too wet. So had Turner Johnson lost this toy or had he been smart enough to hide it between the rock and the cave wall?

* * *

After calling in the find, Ava and Roscoe started out again. Roscoe seemed determined to go toward the west, so Ava made sure she alerted their path to everyone patrolling and searching the woods. They started tracking again in an area called the scent cone, which worked with the breezes, temperatures and humidity to carry a scent from the last known place the missing boy had been seen. Ava started at a higher elevation just past the first cave and worked downwind from where the boy had disappeared, letting Roscoe move in a crisscross fashion back and forth through dirt, mud, rotting tree trunks, rocky terrain and dense foliage while she kept a vigilant watch for an ambush.

No one had been shot at today, so that was good. But it could also mean Sullivan had left and possibly taken the boy with him.

Even with the hot sun beaming through the pines and mesquite trees, there was a sinister darkness hanging over these woods. Remembering that Turner Johnson had been in his backyard, an area that should have been safe, Ava agreed with her superiors that now that Sullivan had been spotted, this area should be restricted until further notice. She moved toward the trail head in the more trafficked area, hoping that by going for the obvious she’d stumble on another piece of the puzzle.

It didn’t take her long to come upon Oliver’s team.

Buster grunted behind her and took out his canteen. “Mighty hot. Mighty hot.”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed, stopping to give Roscoe some water before she drank from her own rations.

Other members of their unit nodded and spoke and kept working. She wasn’t sure anymore if they were looking for the child or the killer or both. Which scared her. What if they couldn’t get to Turner in time?

“How you holding up?” Oliver said from behind her.

Ava whirled to greet him, noting his sweat-drenched T-shirt underneath his FBI-emblazoned bulletproof vest. “One small victory.”

She showed him the toy robot she’d placed inside a paper evidence bag and stored in a pouch on her utility belt. “We reported our finding to his parents, but this doesn’t mean he’s still alive.”

“Maybe the kid lost the toy, and he came looking for it and got lost himself,” Oliver said, doing that frown-squint thing she’d noticed last night and earlier today.”

“I know, and I’m wondering if he lost it or if Sullivan hid it to cover kidnapping the boy. But then, what do I know about seven-year-olds?”

“Same here,” he replied, a shard of longing passing through his eyes. Maybe, like her, he hoped to have a family one day. No matter their jobs, searching for a lost child always brought out the best in people, but it also stirred up the worst of their emotions. But they’d both been trained to school such things.

“How long have you been trying to catch Boyd Sullivan?” she asked as they pushed through bramble and called out Turner Johnson’s name over and over.

“Too long,” he retorted in a concise manner.

When he didn’t say more, she let it go. But then, they stopped to catch their breaths underneath some mushrooming oaks and cascading mountain laurels.

“I’ll explain that to you another time,” he said in a gravelly voice. “How did you come into the MWD program? I mean, after you didn’t become a pilot.”

She shook her head. “I’ll tell you that another time, too.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Ava nodded. “Well, for now, we keep going.” Once again, she let Roscoe sniff Turner’s toy and cap. “I’ll stay close by since it’s getting late, but I want Roscoe to search this area, too. Maybe he’ll pick up on Sullivan’s scent. He’s been in on most of the prior searches so you might get a break.”

“I could use one.”

Ava noticed the dark fatigue around his eyes. He was a good-looking man and obviously, like her, he had to stay in shape for his job. But there was a sorrow around him, as if he were searching for something other than a vicious killer. Again, she wondered how long he’d been chasing after Boyd Sullivan. He’d been in on the first arrest from what she remembered in the early briefings. But she wondered how long he could keep this up, too. That kind of tenaciousness could wear a person down.

No time now to ponder but, later, maybe he’d open up to her as he’d said.

Which meant she’d have to do the same with him, of course.

Or research his background on her own.

After they drank some water and shared an energy bar and she fed Roscoe and gave him some play time, they went in opposite directions again.

Five minutes into this new search, Roscoe alerted on another dark indention in a hill covered with overgrowth. He whined and kept glancing back at her. Not his usual alert. Something wasn’t right.

Ava stepped forward and stomped through heavy vines and dense shrubs until she came to the dark crevice. Using her rifle to push back the foliage, she decided this had to be another cave.

Roscoe wouldn’t let it go so she called out. “Turner? Turner Johnson? Are you in there? I’m here to help you.”

She heard movement inside. Ava reported the find over the radio and before she could make her next move, Oliver was right there with her.

“It could be your boy or it could be Sullivan,” he whispered, drawing his weapon. “Either way, we go in together.”

Another bonding moment, she thought, still confused about how this man brought so many of her feelings out of hiding. But he was just doing his job. He wanted to be the one to capture Sullivan.

Time for her to do the same with whoever was inside that cave. She prayed it was the boy.

Help us now, Lord. Help us to find this child.

But they needed to capture the Red Rose Killer, too.

As Oliver had said, either way, they were in this thing together now.