Rescue Operation

Oliver looked toward the heavens. “A missing seven-year-old and a serial killer on the loose. In the same woods. This is not good. So not good.”

Her hostile gaze affirmed that summary. “No, and I really need to get back to Roscoe and his find.”

Touching her arm, he glanced at the patient golden-coated Labrador retriever and said, “I understand you want to explore Roscoe’s discovery. I’m anxious to catch up with the team searching for Boyd Sullivan. But I need to ask you a few more questions.”

She glared at him for a moment and then checked on the K-9 eager to dig in the mud. “I’ve told you what happened and now I’m going to do what I came here to do. Because whatever’s buried here might give us a clue to find the boy.”

* * *

Special Agent Oliver Davison stared at Ava, skepticism heavy in his green eyes. The man obviously didn’t believe a word of what she’d just told him. And he was seriously beginning to get on her already singed nerves.

But he did have a point. Why had Sullivan allowed her to live when he’d killed so many people already?

He’d been sent to prison for those killings a few years ago. He wanted revenge, and he was willing to kill anyone who stood in his way. He was armed and dangerous, and yes, she’d let him get away. That didn’t sit well with Ava, but she had to focus on the mission at hand.

Even while the creepiness factor made her want to take off and track the killer.

Sullivan earned his name because he always left a red rose and a note stating “I’m coming for you” to warn his victims, and another note stating “Got you” after he’d killed them. Four other base personnel were targeted, so the base had been on high alert all summer. Boyd had a way on and off the base and Ava believed, along with her team members, that he was hiding out in these woods and using uniforms and IDs from some of the other airmen he’d killed to keep up the charade.

Now she’d seen the killer with her own eyes and this agent doubted her and wanted to waste her time while a child could get caught in the cross fire. Glaring up at him, Ava saw something besides a steely determination in the special agent’s green eyes.

Sadness. Then it hit her. He’d been involved with one of the victims from Dill. She didn’t know the whole story, but rumors had circulated. Now was not the time to go into that, however.

“I need to get back to work,” she said on a calm note, hoping to cut him some slack. “Roscoe’s waiting to do his job.”

“Just a few more details,” he insisted, a stubborn glint in his eyes.

Remembering how her heart had gone haywire earlier, Ava thought about Boyd Sullivan’s weird reaction to finding her there. Dressed in dirty, ill-fitting camouflage, he’d looked wild and disoriented, but he’d been carrying an arsenal of weapons.

Thinking about it now, she held herself rigid so she wouldn’t get the shakes.

To stay focused, she stared at Oliver Davison, taking in how his green eyes matched the lush foliage all around them. “Buster went after Sullivan and tracked him, but lost him. Chad and Custer had an alert in another area due east. They couldn’t make it back in time.”

“Why didn’t you send Roscoe after Sullivan?”

“And risk losing my partner and the boy’s location? I sent Buster after Sullivan because I was afraid the boy might still be in the area. Turner Johnson is my first obligation.”

Oliver pushed water off his thick dark hair. “So you let Boyd Sullivan slip through your fingers?”

“I don’t like your tone, Special Agent.”

“Well, I don’t like losing a wanted serial killer, Airman Esposito.”

“I’m here to find the boy. It’s your job to track Boyd Sullivan, and apparently you haven’t been very successful so far.”

“Ouch, that hurt.”

She almost laughed, but this was not funny. She understood how he wanted to get his man, but he was stepping on her toes right now. “I’m going to see what Roscoe has found, if you don’t mind. You have a whole team here to search for Sullivan.”

“I guess I’m dismissed.”

She turned in time to see the flare of both anger and admiration in his interesting eyes. “You could say that, yes.”

But he called out to her. “Hey, if Boyd Sullivan wasn’t shooting at you, then who was, and why?”

TWO

Ava wanted to find the answer to Oliver Davison’s questions, too, but right now she had to get back to her search. Not only was she concerned for the boy’s safety, but Turner’s parents wielded a lot of clout. The whole base was on high alert over this. The negative press wouldn’t be good either.

After Mr. FBI left, Chad Watson came bounding up, his blond hair glistening wet, K-9 Custer sloshing through the mud ahead of him. Chad had transferred from Security Forces to the Military Working Dog program and now excelled at his job.

“Nothing on the alert we had. Custer did a thorough grid but didn’t find anything regarding the boy.” Then he showed her a paper evidence bag inside his uniform pocket. “But we did find this.”

Ava stared down into the open pocket, her hand shielding the bag from the rain. A Buff. A navy floral headband which could have gotten lost by anyone hiking through these woods, but it did look feminine. “Keep it bagged so we can give it to Forensics,” she said, deciding anything could be evidence.

Chad nodded. “I’ll take Custer and do a grid to the north.”

“Good idea. While you do that, we’ll dig here,” she said. Then she radioed Buster. “Need you back at the search site.”

Ava gave Roscoe the order and they both worked beside him, using their gloved hands to sift through the mud and dirt surrounding the cave, but to no avail. Yet Roscoe didn’t let it go. He pawed and whined and stared at her for his next command.

“Nothing,” she said. After radioing in her request and cordoning off the area where they’d already dug, they kept searching and calling out for Turner Johnson, going back over the area in every direction. But the boy didn’t respond and Roscoe didn’t alert anywhere else. Her partner returned to stand firm in front of the cave, so she checked inside again but didn’t find anything.

“Roscoe, boy, I know you are smart and there is something here, but it’s getting dark and we’re gonna have to let the next shift take over.”

Roscoe gave her a solemn stare and then looked toward the cave again. But he was so well trained, he didn’t make a move.

Thirty minutes later, the storm raged on, thunder and lightning indicating it had stalled over these woods, lessening visibility to a minimum.

Ava got a message to return to the base with Security Forces. It was too risky to bring in the chopper but the night shift would hike in from the trail and take over.

“I don’t want to leave,” she said, rain slashing at her with a needle-sharp consistency. “It’s getting dark. I’m so worried about that little boy.”

Buster stood like a dark statue, his deep brown eyes on her. “I can stay and help the relief team, ma’am.”

“It’s okay, Buster. We’ve got a fresh second shift arriving. They’ll set up camp and keep searching as long as they can. We all know the first forty-eight hours are crucial in finding a missing child.”

“And it’s only been a few hours,” Buster replied. “With this storm, things go up a notch.”

So much could happen. The boy could slip and fall into rushing water from the nearby rivers and creeks. Flash floods were common in this area during storms. She prayed he’d found a safe place to shelter. Prayed he was still alive. At least the kid was a Cub Scout. Maybe his training would kick in. The temperature would be warm, but with this rain everything took on a chill.

“We have to rest and regroup tomorrow. The Amber Alert is out on the whole base and the surrounding area. The second shift is already arriving, and Chad is briefing them.”

“What if—”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said to the gentle giant. “What if Boyd Sullivan has the boy and that’s why he didn’t shoot us? What if he had to get back to the kid?”

“Yes,” Buster said. “Exactly. He sure did run fast when those other bullets started flying.”

“Yes, he did, didn’t he?” Ava wasn’t sure if the bullets had been for Boyd or her, or both. But her gut told her the shooter was covering Sullivan. Maybe he didn’t kill Ava because he’d seen the heavy activity in the woods and it was too messy and risky.

Whatever his reasons, she thanked God she was still alive.

When the second shift had arrived and she’d updated the head of Security Forces, Captain Justin Blackwood, Ava trudged to the trail and got in an SF SUV with Roscoe safe in a kennel and returned to the base, exhausted and disappointed.

* * *

“I’m going back out first thing in the morning,” she told lead handler Master Sergeant Westley James after she’d updated several team members in the MWD training center conference room. “I promised Mrs. Johnson I wouldn’t give up on finding her son.”

“I agree,” her boss said, his blue eyes giving away nothing as the others filed out. “We’re running out of time on the boy and we now know Boyd Sullivan could be living in those woods. Which means our earlier reports on his whereabouts were wrong. He’s back in the area.”

“Yes, we are running out of time,” a deep voice said from the doorway of the conference room. “And now you’re in danger, too, Senior Airman Esposito.”

Ava whirled to find a very wet, haggard-looking FBI agent staring over at them. “Special Agent Davison, I take it you didn’t find Boyd Sullivan after all?”

Oliver looked as defeated as she felt. “Nope, and that storm and a pitch-dark sky brought everything to a grinding halt. But we found signs of what looked like camping areas in two different locations, so we bagged what could be evidence. I’m going to grab a shower in the locker room and then, Airman Esposito, I’d like a word with you on how we can coordinate our searches tomorrow.”

“I’m off to get a shower, too,” she said, thinking she’d head in the opposite direction of him. “Meet me back here at 19:00?”

He glanced at his fancy watch. “Sounds good.”

Westley James cut his gaze from Ava to the FBI agent but didn’t say a word. Then he grabbed his beret. “I’m going home now to be with Felicity.”

Staff Sergeant Felicity Monroe, a former K-9 handler and now the base photographer and Westley’s wife, was still considered a target of the Red Rose Killer. He’d want to make sure she was safe, of course.

“Give her my best, sir.”

“Will do. And, Ava, Agent Davison is right. You’re in danger now, too. Sullivan might have let you go today, but you’re on his radar now. He can’t leave any loose threads.”

Ava nodded and turned to go, conscious of Oliver Davison’s green-eyed gaze following her every step.

* * *

“How ’bout we get out of here and go to the Winged Java?” she said once she was clean and dry, her damp hair curled up under her navy beret, her blue T-shirt clean and fresh against her ABUs.

“Ah, the notorious coffee shop where flyboys and air force cadets hang out and brag about their daring deeds?” he asked, his dark hair shimmering and glossy from his shower, the scent of soap all around him. “I imagine you have a lot to brag about.”

Actually, she just wanted to get away from prying eyes and go over the details of the Boyd Sullivan case and how it would interfere with finding Turner Johnson.

“I don’t like braggadocios.”

“Did you really just say braggadocios?”

She laughed. “I can teach you a lot of new words.”

“I suppose you can. Let’s go.”

She started toward the door, her keys in her hand, and tried really hard to forget that he was good-looking and overconfident. He’d changed to a white button-down shirt and dark slacks, which made him stand out like a stranger in a spaghetti Western.

He beat her to the door and opened it. “I’ll drive.”

Ava scooted around him and out the door. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Afraid to ride with me, Esposito?”

“No, Special Agent. I can go home straight from there. Since we have special permission to take our K-9 partners home until the Red Rose Killer is caught, I have Roscoe to consider.”

“Of course.” He nodded and jingled his key fob. “I’ll see you in a few.”

The Winged Java was a legendary coffee shop, just as Oliver Davison had mentioned, but it was also a great place to relax and grab a burger or the best pizza in Texas, according to Ava’s way of thinking. And because she was hungry and needed coffee and maybe a slice of pie, she grinned when she pulled up in the parking lot.

“Roscoe, guess where we are?”

Roscoe loved the Winged Java, too, since K-9s were as welcome here as humans. Maybe even more so. The manager always gave her treats to give to Roscoe at her discretion. Ava could leave him in the temperature-controlled kennel in her SUV, but she preferred having him with her whenever she could.

Normally Military Working Dogs didn’t go home with their handlers, but base commander Lieutenant General Nathan Hall had given them special permission to keep the seasoned K-9s with them because of the brutal murders on base. Over the last few months, she’d gotten used to having Roscoe around. And so had several of the base restaurants. Because he was trained in search and rescue, Roscoe was more acclimated socially than the German shepherds and Belgian Malinois that did heavy battle duty, but he still had to be handled carefully in social situations.

Checking Roscoe’s uniform, a vest that identified him as a Military Working Dog so people would use caution when approaching him, Ava knew Roscoe would be on his best behavior.

But she wasn’t so sure about the intense man waiting for her in a corner booth. Taking a breath after spotting Oliver Davison through the window, she stared at the giant white coffee mug mural on the front of the building in an effort to stall this meeting.

Flanked by two wings that were lit up with red, white and blue lights, the cup showcased a chevron emblem. Above the cup, the café’s name was done in black. The Winged Java. Inside, the walls were covered with photos and posters lauding the pride this area held for the base and the air force, some of those photos capturing shots of the Military Working Dog handlers and their dogs in training and on the job.

After sitting there for five minutes, dread weighing her down because she didn’t want this man interfering in her job or her life, Ava went in and faced Oliver Davison.

* * *

“I ordered two coffees,” he said, the scent of something clean and tropical hitting the air as she settled into the booth across from him. “I’ve seen you inhaling it in the break room.”

That comment garnered him a concentrated stare. “Spying on me?”

“No, just part of the job to stay on the alert and observe people. I mean, we’ve never been officially introduced but you are always around.”

She’d whizz through the break room with a dare to anybody who messed with her, but she’d stop on a dime to pet a dog or talk to a fellow handler. And when she smiled...

She was not smiling now, he noticed. “Does that bother you? Me always being around, that is?”

“Should it?”

She didn’t look at the menu when the waitress showed up with their coffee and asked for their orders. “Cheeseburger, medium rare, with fries on the side. No mayo but loaded down.”

“A woman who knows her own mind,” the waitress said through a chuckle. “And for you, sir?”

Oliver glanced at the menu and looked up at Ava. “I’ll have what she’s having and hope I can eat the whole thing.”

“Try to keep up,” the freckled older woman said. Then she greeted Roscoe where he lay beside the booth with a “Hey, boy,” before she walked away with a smile.

“They seem to know you here,” Oliver said.

Ava’s brown eyes turned a warm honey pecan. “I come here a lot.”

“I’ve been in a few times,” he offered. “But I just get a lot of stares.”

“I wonder why that is,” she quipped, obviously enjoying making him squirm a bit.

“Maybe they know I’m an outsider, or, worse, a dreaded Yankee from New York. Took the San Antonio Bureau a while to adjust to my accent and my bluntness.”

“We don’t judge that way,” she said through a wry grin. “But they might wonder about the suit thing in the heat of summer. Here we go with jeans, T-shirts and boots when we have downtime.”

“Hey, I left my coat and tie in the car, and I have a pair of boots.”

“I’m guessing you’ve never taken ’em out of the box.”

Feeling sheepish, he lowered his head. “Once...maybe.”

After their food came, he leaned back and stared at the table. “What a day. Sorry you didn’t find the boy.”

Ava stared down at the table and then checked the parking lot. Like him, she probably never let her guard down. “I talked to Marilyn Johnson when we got back to base. The poor woman is distraught. Their only child. She’s afraid Turner could have been taken but he has gone into the woods beyond their yard without permission before.”

“We couldn’t be sure he was still around,” Oliver reminded her. “And now the killer has gone to ground. If he has the kid, this goes from bad to worse.”

“We have people still looking but, like you, they had to slow things until this storm passes.” Staring out into the light drizzle, she added, “I don’t want to think about that little boy out in the woods in the rain and dark.”

“Same with the Red Rose Killer,” Oliver replied. “I sure don’t want to think about him out there with the boy. He could use the boy for leverage or as a way out of here. I’m going back out first thing tomorrow.”

“Me, too.”

“He’s left way too many threatening notes and now he’s back to make good on them,” Oliver said. “He’s getting onto the base with other people’s IDs and, just as we’ve suspected, he obviously has an accomplice, based on what happened today. He has to have found a way from the reserve to the base, which is probably how he got away again this time. I’m praying the boy isn’t with him.”

“I’m hoping the boy had the good sense to hide,” Ava replied, her tone full of worry. “We couldn’t get a bead on Sullivan. The chopper couldn’t land in that dense area, but they did a good job of dropping us,” she said. “I hope the night crew can make some headway since I didn’t get anywhere.”

“You’re good at your job,” Oliver said. “That’s obvious.” Then he made a snap decision. “Save the air force some money and let me give you a ride tomorrow. Unless, of course, you really do want to rappel down a rope dangling from a hovering forty-million-dollar chopper again.”

“Hmm.” Surprise on her pretty face, she held her hands up in the air and moved them up and down as if weighing something. “Those are my only choices?”

He laughed at that. She had a quick wit and a no-nonsense attitude that was refreshing. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”

“Should I?”

“I’m trying to figure that out,” he said, his eyes holding hers again. “And...while we’re at it, tell me why you wanted to have this conversation away from the office, and maybe tell me a little bit about you, too.”

She matched his gaze and shook her head. “I’m not sure myself why I decided to hold this meeting here, but you know how things go. Prying eyes and listening ears. I’m working to move up a rank. Right now, it’s hard to trust anyone. My team is solid but we’ve had some major leaks with the so-called Anonymous Blogger. But one thing I can tell you—I’m here to discuss the investigation, not share the intimate details of my life. Especially with a man who seems to read people with an ease that leaves them floundering.”

“Me?” Impressed that she could read him so well, he shrugged. “Again, part of the job. I’m curious about what makes people tick.” Then to gain her trust, he leaned in. “In your case, I’d really like to get to know you. Your team is so tight, it’s been hard for me to break through.”

“And you think I’ll be the one to crack?”

“No, I think you’re the toughest one of all. But I’d appreciate knowing more about you.”

Looking skeptical, she shrugged right back at him. “Not much to tell. I decided in high school to join the air force. I took a helicopter ride once out on Galveston beach when I was a preteen and fell in love. That, coupled with not knowing what to do with my life, made me want to travel and find adventure. Didn’t take much from there to want to be a chopper pilot.”

“Can you fly one?”

“I was headed that way but my plans changed. I love what I do now and if I work hard I just might make it to staff sergeant.”

“I’d like to hear more of that story.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “Since you’re insisting on that, I’ll need to hear more about you, too, then.”

Oliver stared out into the night, wondering how much she already knew since he’d had to disclose his involvement with Madison to Ava’s superiors. “Okay, but you might not like what you hear.”

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.”