Читать книгу The Military K-9 Unit Collection - Valerie Hansen - Страница 30
ОглавлениеThe door to the conference room opened, drawing Felicity’s attention away from Maisy. Westley stepped into the hall and beckoned Felicity back inside.
“Just a second,” she called to him. Turning to Maisy, she said, “Did you drive over?”
Maisy nodded. “Yes.” She rose and hitched her purse higher on her shoulder. “I have to get to church to teach my Sunday school class.”
“Are you sure you’re up for that?”
“Yes. I need to be with the kids.” Maisy hugged Felicity. “Be careful.”
“You, too.” Felicity stepped back. “I’ll call you later.”
Maisy smiled and hurried out of base command.
Squaring her shoulders, Felicity met Westley at the door. The hard light in his eyes didn’t bode well and a hundred thoughts—none of them good—raced through her mind.
“Is everything okay?” she whispered.
He didn’t reply. Instead he stepped aside so she could reenter the conference room. She held her salute until the base commander told her to relax.
Lieutenant General Hall regarded her steadily. “I understand you know how to work a camera.”
Surprise washed through her. “Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. You are being reassigned to the photo lab effective immediately.”
“Excuse me?” Felicity stared at the lieutenant general then her gaze darted to Westley. His inscrutable expression irked her. Had he signed off on this transfer? She didn’t want to leave the training center. She wanted to work with the dogs. Was this photo-lab assignment some sort of punishment? Had Westley used the situation as an opportunity to have her removed from the training center?
Lieutenant General Hall held up a hand. “Now, hear us out.” He nodded at the OSI agent.
Ian tipped his chin at her. “Of the potential victims, you’re the only one trained to handle the likes of Boyd Sullivan.”
His words sounded like a compliment. Still, confusion pounded at her temples. She glanced around the room at the men seated at the conference room table. When Westley had requested she rejoin them a few minutes ago, she’d had no idea what to expect. Certainly not this. “What do you want from me?”
“You take on the role of base photographer,” Ian said. “This allows you to be visible, to roam the base at will taking many, many photos.”
“You’ll then upload the images to our database,” the FBI agent said. “We’ll run the pictures through our facial-recognition software. If Boyd is on base and you can capture his image then we’ll have a better chance of finding him before he hurts anyone else.”
She turned this over in her head. Her gaze strayed to Westley again. The muscle in his jaw ticked, as if he was clenching his teeth. Was he upset or happy to be rid of her? She didn’t know. He was so hard to read.
Her gaze swept over the other men staring at her and waiting for a response. How did one reply to being asked to act as bait for a serial killer?
But Ian was correct. No way could Yvette or Vanessa take on the role, despite the training all air-force personnel went through. Felicity imagined her father would want her to take on the challenge. Her mother, on the other hand, would flip out when she learned about this. Not that Felicity had any intention of telling her mother until after the fact. Or ever.
Straightening her shoulders and standing tall, she turned her attention to Lieutenant General Hall. “I will do whatever is needed, sir.”
Approval shone in his eyes. “Well done. Then I will let you and Agent Steffen work out the details. You’ll report for duty in the photo lab tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant General Hall looked to Ian. “I’ll let you take it from here.”
“Take a seat,” Ian told her as he pinned her with his gaze. “I’m not going to lie to you. This could be dangerous. We don’t know what Boyd will do. We do know he is ruthless and cunning.”
Swallowing back the trepidation clawing up her throat, she nodded. “I understand, sir.”
“Despite his objections to your new assignment, Master Sergeant James has volunteered to be detailed to your protection.”
Felicity absorbed the information like a blow to the gut. Why had Westley objected? She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she was...disappointed. “I don’t need Master Sergeant James’s protection.”
Ian raised his eyebrows. “It’s not up for debate, Staff Sergeant Monroe.”
She slanted a glance at Westley. He stared at her with a hooded gaze that made her fingers curl in her lap. “Who will run the training center?”
“I’ll check in often with the center, but Master Sergeant Streeter will take over until Boyd is caught and put back in prison,” Westley stated in a tight voice.
Caleb Streeter was a seasoned trainer and more than capable of handling the center. But he wasn’t a master level trainer like Westley. She didn’t understand how he could give up control. He ran the center like his own personal company. His way or the highway.
She wanted to ask Westley why he’d volunteered and why he disapproved of her taking the photography position, but with so many people staring at her, she decided her questions would have to wait.
She returned her attention back to Ian, who regarded her closely. No doubt he was waiting to see if she was going to continue to argue. No way. She wouldn’t be that person. She was up for taking down the Red Rose Killer. She nodded her head in acquiescence.
“Now that that’s settled,” Ian said. “We are forming a task force to include all of you. We will add to it, as we need. But for now, all information is to be kept confidential. We don’t want the base or the general public to be aware of what we are doing to bring Boyd to justice. A traitor on this base is helping Boyd. We don’t know who it is.” He turned his gaze to Justin. “We need to find this traitor, Captain.”
“We’re doing our best, sir,” Justin said. “We will interview everyone on base.”
“Who were Boyd’s friends on base?” Oliver asked.
Felicity noticed the look exchanged between Justin and Linc before Justin spoke again. “Boyd was buddies with Airman Jim Ahern, who works in aircraft maintenance.”
“We will be questioning him,” Linc said.
“Good,” Oliver said. “I want to be there when you do.”
“Yes, sir,” Linc and Justin both said.
“I want you all to report back here tomorrow at sixteen hundred with updates.” Lieutenant General Hall rose. Everyone in the room snapped to attention.
“You all have your orders,” Lieutenant General Hall said. “I have arrangements to make with Miss Lockwood for her father’s service.” He walked out.
As Felicity and Westley headed for the door, Ian said, “Staff Sergeant Monroe, if you’d wait a moment. I’d like to speak to you privately.”
The scowl spreading over Westley’s features made Felicity tense.
Finally, he directed his gaze on her. “I’ll wait in the hall.”
She nodded and sat down.
Westley walked out, followed by the others. When she and Ian were alone, Ian said, “I want you to search your house for anything that might be related to your father’s last case. Tell no one. We don’t know who to trust.”
She swallowed the burn of wariness. “Yes, sir.”
Whoever had been in her house might also be looking for her father’s case notes. A shiver ran over her. And that would mean her father hadn’t died by an accidental fall...
She fought to catch her breath.
He had been murdered.
Numbed by the realization, she left the conference room.
True to his word, she found Westley waiting for her in the hallway. She wanted to tell him about her conversation with the OSI agent, about the case her father was working on and the fact that maybe she wasn’t going crazy. But Ian’s words reverberated through her head.
We don’t know who to trust.
* * *
“What did Agent Steffen want?”
From the paleness of Felicity’s face, Westley guessed something significant. And the way she stared at him, with wariness in her blue-green eyes, sent a fissure of alarm sliding down his spine.
She shook her head. “Nothing that I want to talk about.”
So there was something, but she didn’t trust him enough to share. Hurt spread through his chest. How could he protect her if she distrusted him? And why did she distrust him? Hadn’t he always treated her professionally? Except when he’d hugged her in a moment of weakness. That was something he wouldn’t let happen again.
Did she know about his mom and dad? Is that what the OSI agent told her?
Swallowing his concern, he led her toward the exit.
A bulldog of a man rushed through the double doors of the base command. He wore the airman battle-ready uniform with a staff-sergeant insignia and the name Dooley on the tag. The solid occupational badge marked him an engineer.
Westley swiftly maneuvered Felicity behind him. For all Westley knew, Boyd could be posing as an airman and using disguises to camouflage his appearance.
“Felicity!” the man exclaimed and hurried toward them. As he drew closer, Westley realized the man was older than he first appeared. Mid-to late-fifties.
Felicity nudged Westley aside. “Uncle Patrick.”
Westley relaxed and stepped back, allowing Felicity room.
Patrick skidded to a halt and eyed Westley, saluted and then turned his gaze on Felicity. “Are you okay? I heard the Red Rose Killer is loose on base and that you were threatened.”
“I’m fine, Uncle,” she replied. “A little shaken, that’s all.”
“I would imagine so,” Patrick said. “Colleen must be beside herself.”
Felicity made a face. “I haven’t told Mom and would rather you didn’t as well.”
Patrick smirked. “The last thing I want is to be the bearer of bad news to my sister.” He gave a mock shudder.
“Uncle, this is Master Sergeant Westley James,” Felicity said. “Westley, my uncle, Staff Sergeant Patrick Dooley.”
“You’re from the MWD training center, right?” Patrick asked. “I’ve seen you working the dogs.”
“That’s right.” From Patrick’s tone, Westley gathered the man wasn’t a fan of the canines.
Patrick focused on Felicity. “It’s not safe for you to go home. You need to come stay with me. We’re family after all.”
The stiffness in Felicity’s shoulders told Westley she wasn’t keen on the idea. “She’ll have all the protection she needs,” Westley assured the man. “We’re heading to the training center now to pick up a dog for her.”
Felicity shot Westley a look that he couldn’t decipher. He guessed she was thinking that it was against regulations for an MWD to be housed anywhere but in the kennels. He would have to explain when her uncle wasn’t present.
Patrick’s upper lip curled slightly. “Unacceptable. Your mother would never forgive me if I let something happen to you when I could keep you safe.”
“I appreciate the offer, Uncle Patrick,” she said. “But Westley will provide me the protection I need.”
“I suppose you’ll be safe at the training center as well.” Patrick didn’t sound mollified.
“Actually, I’m taking over the role of base photographer starting tomorrow,” Felicity told him.
The man’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “What? Whose crazy idea was that? You’ll be out in the open. Exposed. Unacceptable!”
Though Westley agreed with the man’s assertions, he remained silent. He would let Felicity fill in her uncle on Westley’s role.
“The base commander’s order,” she said. “And Master Sergeant James will be with me.”
Westley met Patrick’s narrowed gaze. “You’d better keep her safe.”
“I plan to,” he replied.
Felicity let out a small huff of air. “We need to get back to the training center so I can collect my things.”
Patrick walked outside with them. The temperature had risen on this April afternoon, warming the air to a nice muggy level that immediately dampened Westley’s skin. Walking to the other side of base wasn’t an appealing thought. “Patrick, would you give us a ride back to the training center?”
“Of course,” he said and led them to a jeep parked across the road.
The vehicle smelled faintly of a scent Westley couldn’t identify. He rolled down the window for fresh air. The ride to the center took all of four minutes.
Felicity gave her uncle a quick hug before he drove away, leaving them standing outside of the center.
“I didn’t realize you had more family on base,” Westley said as they walked toward the entrance.
“We aren’t super close,” she confessed. “Uncle Patrick and my dad used to be friends when they were young. That’s how my parents met, but as Dad moved up through the ranks and into the OSI, he and Patrick grew apart.” She let out a bitter-sounding laugh. “My parents grew apart, as well.”
“Divorced?”
“Yes.” She stopped to glance his way and shielded her eyes from the sun. “What about your parents?”
Acid churned in his gut. He had to ask, had to know. “What did Agent Steffen tell you?”
“Why do you assume he told me anything about you?”
“Because something he said upset you,” Westley replied. “Something that you don’t trust me enough to talk about, so I gathered that meant he warned you off of me.”
Speculation entered her blue-green gaze. “No. What we talked about had nothing to do with you.”
Relief swept through him. And he felt idiotic for his paranoia. “Good.” He started walking again, intending to put the whole subject behind them.
She hurried to keep up the pace and put a hand on his arm before he could open the door to the training center. “But now I’m curious. You never talk about yourself. Why would I need to be warned off of you?”
Westley’s mouth turned to cotton. Of course. The woman was curious. Felicity liked to talk and to hear others’ stories. He’d seen and heard her on numerous occasions with the handlers that came to the training center and with the other trainers. She had a way about her that people found engaging and comfortable.
Right now, he felt anything but comfortable. He wasn’t going to spill his guts about his past if he didn’t have to. The things his parents had done didn’t have anything to do with his present life. Nor with his ability to protect Felicity. “Sorry. Not going there.”
“I know you’re my superior, and I’m to follow orders,” she replied, “but I figure since we’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future, we may as well get to know each other a bit better.”
He faced her. “There’s nothing to know.”
“Sure there is. Where did you grow up?”
The determination in her expression didn’t bode well. The tenacity that would make her a great dog trainer one day also meant he wasn’t getting out of this conversation easily. The only thing to do was give her the basics that anyone could read in his official personnel file. “I grew up in Stillwater, Oklahoma. My father passed on years ago.” In prison, but he kept that tidbit to himself. “And my mother is...” He didn’t know where Lori Jean James was. Last he’d heard from her, she’d been in Nevada. “We aren’t close.”
“I’m sorry,” Felicity said.
Her compassion annoyed him. He didn’t want her pity. “Look. None of that matters. I have one focus right now. That is protecting you.” He yanked open the door. “The first thing we need to do is find Glory. She’ll be the best dog for you.”
He didn’t need to read Felicity’s mind to know she wasn’t pleased with him. It was written in the tiny V between her eyebrows and the irritation in her eyes.
Inside the center, Felicity went to gather her things from the locker room, while Westley headed for the dog kennels at the back of the building. He passed one of the long-time trainers, Rusty Morton. Westley liked the guy well enough.
Rusty paused to salute. “Master Sergeant.”
Westley returned the customary salute. “At ease. How is it going?”
Rusty relaxed. “I’m headed out to see if I can find more of the dogs. Someone reported seeing some in the woods at the far edge of base.”
That was concerning. Six hundred acres of rough terrain and steep canyons could pose a danger to the canines. He hoped nothing bad befell the dogs. “I’ll be praying you find them.” And praying the canines were unharmed. “I’ll head out soon to search as well.”
“Yes, sir.” Rusty hurried away.
Why Westley clung to the faith of his childhood, he didn’t know. Habit maybe. Or deep inside, maybe he still wanted to believe God answered prayers. So he prayed that Rusty and the other trainers out searching for the dogs had success.
Westley entered the large open space where numerous kennels lined the walls. Dogs barked in greeting. He was pleased to see so many of the dogs had been returned unharmed.
“We have about sixty dogs still missing,” Caleb Streeter told him. The tall, muscular officer was refilling water bowls. Because Caleb and Westley were the same rank, they dispensed with the protocol of saluting.
Westley was surprised by the number and tried not to be disheartened. The dogs had to be somewhere on base. But where?
“I need Glory,” Westley said as he stopped in front of her empty crate. “Where is she?”
“She’s one of the sixty.”
“No way!” Westley couldn’t believe it. “Glory is a rock star. She’d come when called.”
“I know. I don’t get it,” Caleb said. “Liberty, Patriot and Scout are missing, too.”
“That’s just weird.” And worrisome. Westley rubbed the back of his neck, where tension had taken up residence. The four German shepherds were superstars in the making and very valuable to the military. They should have been easily recalled. He hoped and prayed they weren’t hurt, or worse. Anxiety ate at his gut.
His gaze collided with the dark eyes of an all-black German shepherd named Dakota. A measure of relief eased some of the pressure knotting his muscles. Dakota was a good candidate for Felicity. The mature, multipurpose dog excelled in his training and had a good balance of aggression and excitability that was needed for patrol work. He’d been deployed with his handler on two missions overseas before coming back to the training center to be paired with a new handler after his handler had been injured. “You’ll do nicely, Dakota.”
The dog perked up hearing his name. Grabbing a lead, Westley released the dog from his kennel and latched the lead to his black collar. The dog was a two-year-old veteran well trained in protection. Westley was confident that Dakota would keep Felicity safe.
Westley explained to Caleb the situation of the Red Rose Killer and Westley’s detail to Felicity’s protection.
“Man, that’s rough,” the other trainer said. “What can I do to help?”
“I need you to take over the day-to-day tasks while I’m on this detail.”
Caleb’s blue eyes grew wide. “You got it.”
Surprisingly, Westley didn’t mind giving up control of the program. It was only temporary and he knew the dogs would be in capable hands. Taking Dakota with him, he went to find Felicity, who was talking with base reporter Lieutenant Heidi Jenks in the training center break room.
He saluted the officer while Dakota sat at attention.
“At ease,” Heidi said as she returned the salute.
Turning his gaze on Felicity, he hoped she hadn’t given away any details. “What’s going on?”
Felicity smiled easily. “Just chatting. Do you know Heidi? She’s my neighbor.”
“Only by reputation,” he replied.
Pushing back her long blond hair, Heidi said, “I was hoping you all could tell me about the missing dogs and the two trainers who were murdered here last night.”
“No comment,” Westley replied. “Felicity, we need to go.”
Heidi scrambled from her chair. “Wait. Give me something. Do you have any info on Chief Master Sergeant Lockwood’s murder?”
“Sorry, Lieutenant. You’ll have to contact the base commander for information.” He gripped Felicity by the elbow and hurried her out of the center. Once they were away from the reporter, he said, “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “I know better than that. My dad was OSI, you know.”
“Right.” He took his cell phone from his pocket and sent a text to the training staff telling them Caleb would be in charge and not to talk to the press.
“I thought you said Glory was the dog for me,” Felicity said, petting Dakota. “Not that I’m complaining. I like this guy a lot.”
Westley relayed what Caleb had told him as they hurried toward base housing.
“I have to believe we’ll find the dogs,” she said, though a thread of anxiety wove through her tone.
“Ever the optimist, aren’t you?” he replied.
“Is that a bad thing?”
He shrugged. “It leaves you open to disappointment.”
“Maybe. But if I go around expecting disappointment then I’m sure to find it.”
He marveled at the way her brain worked.
“Would you mind if we say a prayer for the dogs’ safety?” she asked, her eyes searching his face.
“Be my guest,” he said. He’d like to think God would hear and deliver on their request. Maybe he would for Felicity.
She bowed her head. “Lord God, please watch over the missing dogs and bring them back safely. Watch over the whole base, Lord. Keep everyone safe from Boyd Sullivan. Amen.”
“Amen,” he mumbled.
When they reached her house, crime-scene tape fluttered around the mailbox, slamming home the reminder of the danger lurking on base.
Before Felicity could step inside, Westley halted her with a hand on her shoulder. “Let Dakota go first.” If the Red Rose Killer was waiting inside, the dog would alert.
He unhooked the lead from the dog’s collar. “Search,” Westley told Dakota.
The dog went inside. Westley tensed, waiting for some sign of alert to trouble. A few moments later, Dakota returned without alerting.
“It’s safe,” Westley said.
Felicity stepped inside and let out an audible gasp.
Westley followed her, taking in the disarray of the living room. Either she was a messy housekeeper or someone had ransacked her house.
