Rescue Operation

“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.

FOUR

When they stepped into the jagged opening to the cave, Oliver heard a low growl.

Halting Roscoe, Ava turned to Oliver. “That’s not a person. It’s an animal.”

Oliver watched as she slipped on her protective gloves. “What are you doing?”

“It might be one of the missing dogs, possibly one of the ones suffering PTSD. I’m going in to check.”

“Can he harm you?”

“Yes, if he’s hungry and scared. Will you radio Westley for me?”

“Of course,” Oliver said, “but I’m not leaving you in this cave alone.”

“Okay, make the call.”

Ava turned to Roscoe while Oliver stood just outside the opening and radioed their location. He watched as she ordered the K-9 to stay. The dog glanced at the back of the cave, whimpered a protest but sank down to do as he was told.

“I think Roscoe senses that the other dog is a friendly,” Ava told Oliver when he finished the call to Westley James. “His protective instincts tend to kick in when he sees another dog.”

Ava started talking quietly to the animal. “I took a PTSD course once,” she whispered to Oliver. “I’m going to use what I learned on the dog to calm him down.”

Cataloging that, he decided he’d ask her about it when she was out of danger. Staying quiet, he stood watch and tried to stay out of her way. When this was over, they’d have a lot to talk about.

“Hey, buddy,” she said as she sank down near the door of the cave.

Oliver could see the trembling dog’s shadow, but she kept talking in gentle, soft tones. “Roscoe and I are your friends. We’re here to help you. You’ll get to go home to the base and your warm, clean kennel and get all kinds of love, treats and good meals and chew toys. And the help you need, too.”

Ava’s voice wobbled, and Oliver guessed she had to be thinking of Chief Master Sergeant Clint Lockwood and her airmen friends Landon Martelli and Tamara Peterson, all of whom had died at the hands of Boyd Sullivan. He had purposely let the dogs out that night so long ago to shake everyone up and traumatize the animals.

Oliver’s bones burned with the need to find the Red Rose Killer and end his reign of terror. But right now, he had to stay here with Ava.

The dog whimpered and growled low, as if Ava’s changing mood had rattled him. “It’s okay. No one is ever going to hurt you again. You’re a hero and we’re going to make you well so you can become a strong Military Working Dog.” She smiled. “I have a friend named Isaac who’s looking for a dog like you. A dog named Beacon saved Isaac’s life over in Afghanistan. But he’s lost somewhere far away. Maybe you can cheer up my friend until he can locate Beacon. How about that?”

Something inside Oliver’s heart crumbled. He wanted to comfort both the hurting dog and the woman who seemed so strong but right now seemed so broken, too. But just like the dog, if he moved too fast with Ava, she’d balk. She’d bypassed flying helicopters to do this. Was that a conscious decision, or did something painful keep her from fulfilling that dream?

Maybe she was right where she should be. And then she answered his question with her words.

Talking to the dog again in a calming voice, she said, “You know, we have a family here. We take care of each other and pray for each other. We’ve all been praying for you, too.”

Prayer. Oliver had become so far removed from the faith his parents had instilled in him, he felt out of place hearing her words. He’d turned back to God after Madison’s death, but he needed to be more intentional with his faith. Now would be a good time to take up the habit of praying again. He needed help in all areas of his life to get through this case.

If this woman had a strong faith, perhaps she could be an example to him.

The dog, which looked to be one of the missing German shepherds, stopped growling but lowered on its haunches, its dark gaze on Ava and Roscoe. Oliver kept checking for Westley, holding his breath. He loved dogs. Who didn’t? But seeing how Ava handled this one made him more appreciative of what the MWD team did on a daily basis.

Slowly and carefully, Ava dug into her meal supply and found a peanut-butter granola bar.

“I’m thinking you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

She glanced back to where Oliver leaned against the entrance of the cave, her eyes meeting his, a soft understanding and longing in their depths. Ava pivoted back to the dog, carefully opening the paper covering the bar.

But Oliver would never forget that backward glance. It told him she was gentle and caring underneath that air force bluff.

“How about a snack to tide you over?”

Breaking half of the long bar, she tossed it toward the dog. Crouching and moving on its haunches, the dog gobbled the food and inched closer.

“Hey, Westley’s here,” Oliver said in a low voice, his breath gushing out in relief. Why was he so worried that the animal would hurt her? She knew what she was doing, after all.

Ava slowly slid away from the trembling dark-furred dog. “I’m going to go now, okay? But I’m leaving you in the best possible hands. He’s my boss, so make me look good by bragging on me, okay?”

She scooted back, her gaze on the dog. The scared animal didn’t move, but Oliver saw the apprehension in its eyes. The traumatized animal didn’t want Ava to go.

Oliver didn’t want her to go away either. Which scared him way more than a dog attack.

When she reached Roscoe, she scooted near. “Sir, come on in.”

Westley entered the cave and got down on the dog’s level. While Ava gave him a quick whispered update, he kept staring at the dog. Then he nodded to Ava. “One of our four stars.” Turning back to the scared animal, he said, “We’ve got this, okay. You’re home, soldier, and you won’t ever be scared again.”

Ava called to Roscoe. “Come.”

The Labrador stood but turned back to the other dog, emitting a soft whimper from his throat.

Westley let out a light chuckle. “Hear that? Roscoe says chin up.”

Ava made her way out. Oliver waited with his hand out to help her up. She stood on trembling legs and glanced up at him, unable to speak.

Her sweet gaze shattered him. “Hey, it’s okay. The dog’s safe now.”

Nodding, she wiped her eyes, clearly embarrassed at the tears forming there. “But, Oliver, Boyd Sullivan did this. He sent these scared, scarred dogs out to fend for themselves. We have to find him and we have to keep looking for Turner Johnson. Because if he did this, I don’t want to think about what he’d do to an innocent child.”

Oliver reached out a hand and then dropped it, memories jarring him. “I feel the same way.”

Then he touched her arm and looked into her eyes.

“We’ll keep searching, I promise. I know firsthand what Boyd Sullivan is capable of doing. And I am not going to stop until I either put him behind bars or put a bullet in him.”

* * *

“Well, Turner Johnson’s parents aren’t happy, and I don’t blame them,” Ava told Oliver an hour after they’d found the German shepherd in the cave. “But they’ve been waiting and wondering and I had to report back to them. Not to mention, those two base reporters, Heidi Jenks and John Robinson, are all over this and I keep telling them ‘No comment.’ Lieutenant General Hall will probably want to have a nice chat with me, too.”

“With all of us,” Oliver retorted, his expression as dark as the rain that hovered on the horizon. These pop-up storms weren’t helping the situation. “You’ve done everything you can and you’re still out here searching, so the base commander should cut you some slack.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “I also expect that annoying Anonymous Blogger to have all the details, too. I’m wondering if that person is Sullivan’s helper.”

Ava had to wonder, too. For months now, someone on base had found a way to get all the details of the Red Rose Killer case and blast them online. They suspected Heidi Jenks, but Ava figured Heidi wouldn’t risk her journalism career with an unsubstantiated blog full of false accusations.

“I hadn’t even thought about that,” she said, “but yes, we can expect some sort of cryptic, inaccurate report on that front, too.”

The phone call earlier to where the Johnsons were waiting at a nearby staging site had broken Ava’s heart. Turner’s parents were distraught and exhausted. Their child was missing in the same area where a dangerous man had been seen, so yes, they were frightened, angry and beyond being reasonable. She’d be the same way in their position. Reporters were always hovering around, but lately they’d become even more annoying. Heidi and John both worked for the base paper, with John being the lead reporter on the Red Rose Killer case, but they were in a competition of sorts to get the scoop on the Boyd Sullivan story. But Heidi seemed the more reasonable of the two, at least. Ava figured the determined reporter was probably with Turner’s parents right about now, getting their take on this turn of events.

“Well, regardless of reporters and vicious bloggers, we still have our work cut out for us. No sign of Turner Johnson or Boyd Sullivan.” She did a check around them and added, “I’m so afraid that wherever they are, they might be together. But I can’t bring myself to voice that to Turner’s parents.”

Oliver walked with her through the hot, damp woods, Roscoe back on the job just up ahead of them. “They’re feeling guilty that the kid slipped away. But they’re also terrified about Boyd Sullivan, too. Drew Golosky turned up dead, and we barely had time to warn anyone.”

Ava watched the path ahead. “I just pray it’s not too late.”

“At least the base has closed down this area. It’s off-limits until further notice,” Oliver said, his tone solemn.

“He let me live,” Ava said, her mind still reeling from the last couple of days’ work. “Why do I get the feeling it’s not over between us, however?”

“Because you saw him, saw that feral look in his eyes. He doesn’t have much to lose right now.”

“Well, I do,” she said, moving ahead with Roscoe, her heart burning with the need for justice and her prayers centered on finding a lost little boy.

She was also moving away from Oliver. Somehow, they’d become too close. She didn’t do close. She was single and single-minded. Work consumed most of her time, and that was good enough for her. Or at least it had been up until now. But today, he’d stood there in the cave with her and another current of awareness had sizzled between them. Like heat lightning, there but hard to understand.