by Terri Reed
“He was proud of you,” Westley said.
She lifted her gaze to him in surprise. “That’s kind of you to say.”
“It’s the truth. He came to the training center not long before his death and watched you putting Riff through his paces,” Westley told her.
That’s right. She’d been so nervous knowing her father was there. She’d tried extra hard to do everything perfectly. And Riff, thankfully, had cooperated on that day. She hoped someone found him soon and returned him to the training center.
“He asked me how you were doing. If I thought you were in the right place.”
Her stomach sank. She braced herself. “And what did you tell him?”
“That you have the makings of a good trainer,” Westley replied.
She swallowed the lump of emotion clogging her throat. “You did?”
“Yes. I could tell he was pleased.”
Love for her father swelled in her chest. “Do you believe that I’ll make a good trainer?”
“I do. In time.”
She held his gaze as his words slid into her, bolstering her confidence. That was the closest Westley had come to giving her a compliment on her work. Being the youngest and newest trainer, she tried so hard to earn his approval. Instead, most of the time she earned only a scowl from the handsome, buttoned-down master sergeant.
He cleared his throat and averted his gaze but not before she saw a softening in his eyes that sent a flutter through her. He wasn’t scowling at her now.
She swallowed and tried to make sense of the change in her boss. Well, he was no longer her CO. Now he was her protector.
Gesturing to the front door, he said, “Let’s wait outside.”
With Dakota at their heels, they walked out to the porch.
Felicity leaned against the railing and faced him. The need to make sure they were on equal footing forced words from her mouth. “I’m trusting you to keep me safe. I’m trusting you with the knowledge that my dad’s death was more than it seems.”
Westley braced his feet apart and returned her gaze. “I’m honored. On both accounts.”
She narrowed her eyes. She toggled two fingers between them. “But this has to be a two-way street. You must trust me, as well. I’m not some wilting lily for you to prop up.”
A small smile curved his lips. “Duly noted.”
Annoyance buzzed around her head like a million tiny mosquitoes. It was like doing her absolute best to prove herself yet again and falling short.
A flush of frustration heated her skin. “I need to know that you won’t keep secrets from me. If something comes up with Boyd or the investigation into my father’s death, you can’t try to protect me by not telling me.”
All humor left his face. His jaw firmed. “If you need to know I’ll tell you.”
“No. That’s exactly what I mean.” She pushed off the railing. “If we’re to do this, we’re all in together. You don’t get to decide what’s right for me. Not you, or anyone.”
“Aren’t you tired of carrying that chip on your shoulder all the time?” he commented softly.
Her eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to do my best.”
“But you don’t have to do this alone,” he countered.
“As my supervisor, I took instructions from you. But now, you’re not my boss. I want to make sure we are clear on that.”
“Crystal.”
He stepped closer, forcing her to tilt her head to look up at him. She found herself fascinated with the little gold specks surrounding his dark irises, making the outer rim of blue even brighter up close. There was so much in his gaze that confused and confounded her. Determination. A spark of anger. And something else that had her pulse leaping.
What was going on? This was her superior. The man who never stopped watching her so he could find a fault.
“But make no mistake, Felicity.” His deep voice commanded her attention. “My mission is to protect you. Whatever it takes. If I tell you to duck, you’d better duck. I refuse to have your stubbornness cost you your life.”
Felicity swallowed hard. She hated the way his words wound through her, conjuring up horrifying images of death and destruction. “I am not stubborn.”
His mouth softened and his eyes sparkled. “Your stubbornness is one of your most appealing traits.”
He found her appealing? Whoa. That was unexpected.
She blew out a breath, unsure what to say or how to feel. The line between them that always seemed so clear at the training center was now blurring.
Before she could reply, several vehicles roared to a stop in front of her little house. Best to let his comment go. She didn’t want to care what Westley thought of her.
But what she wanted and what happened were rarely the same thing.
* * *
Westley watched the play of sparks in Felicity’s eyes and pressed his lips together to keep from grinning. He’d surprised her with his comment. Good. He wanted to keep her on her toes. She needed to stay sharp if they were going up against two deadly threats.
Turning his attention away from the lovely staff sergeant, Westley greeted Captain Justin Blackwood and the OSI agent, Ian Steffen, with a salute. Two base-security policemen followed with crime-scene kits in hand.
“What happened?” Justin asked. “Did Boyd Sullivan break in?”
Westley exchanged a quick glance with Felicity. A red rose and ominous note this morning and now an intruder in her house. It made sense the captain would ask about Boyd.
“We don’t know, sir,” Westley said. “Someone broke in and ransacked the place. It’s obvious they were looking for something.”
Justin pinned Felicity with a questioning look. “Any ideas what they were searching for?”
Felicity’s gaze darted to Ian. Westley figured she was looking to the agent for permission to speak about their suspicions regarding her father’s death.
Ian gave a subtle nod before stepping forward. “I can answer that, but first, please direct your men to process the scene. This is for your ears only.”
Justin’s gaze narrowed, but he motioned for the two MPs to proceed into the house. When the two men were out of earshot, Justin said, “Explain.”
“Prior to OSI Agent Monroe’s death, he was working on several cases that are still open,” Ian said.
Justin swept a hand toward the house. “Then this isn’t related to the Red Rose Killer?”
Ian shrugged. “Hard to say. From what I’ve read on Boyd Sullivan, this isn’t part of his MO.”
“Neither is taking jewelry from his victims,” Felicity interjected.
All eyes turned to her.
“Maisy told me that her father’s cross, the one he always wore, was missing when she found him.”
Westley heard the subtle pain in her tone. She hurt for her friend. He told himself the sharp constriction in his chest was for both women’s losses.
“Captain Blackwood,” Ian said, “I suggest conferring with the sheriff’s deputy in Dill, Texas. The one who brought down Sullivan the first time around. She may have some insight into his psyche that might help us find him.”
“Good idea,” Justin said. His next comment was cut off when his cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” He stepped away to take the call.
“Better to keep the focus on Sullivan,” Ian said in a quiet tone.
Westley could only guess the OSI agent didn’t want to advertise the fact that Felicity’s father had been murdered.
If the killer thought he had gotten away with the break-in attributed to the Red Rose Killer, the more likely he, or she, would make a mistake. Westley sent up a silent prayer that God would let justice be done on earth for her father.
When Justin returned, his blue eyes were troubled. “We’ve got a missing cook. Airman Stephen Butler didn’t
show up to his shift in the commissary today. But his car was found in the driveway of his base housing.”
“Are you thinking he’s another of Boyd’s victims?” Westley asked.
“We’ll see. I’m headed over to inspect the car.” To Westley, Justin said, “Keep in touch with me.” His gaze slid to Felicity as he turned. “We’ll see you both tomorrow morning back at base command.”
Once Justin’s vehicle disappeared from sight, Ian ushered them inside.
Westley kept Dakota at his side as the two crime-scene techs were packing up their equipment.
“Did you find anything worth noting?” Ian asked them.
“No, sir,” the older of the two said. “We’ve collected prints and will run them through the databases and compare them to Agent Monroe and his daughter.” He nodded at Felicity in deference.
She smiled back at him. “Thank you.”
If they found prints that didn’t belong to her or her father, then they could have a lead on the intruder. Westley hoped it would be that easy.
Once the two techs had left, the trio gathered in her father’s office. Westley released Dakota. The dog sniffed at the floor and moved around, inspecting the room. A large mahogany L-shaped desk took up half the space and a large black captain’s chair sat behind the desk. Filing cabinets and a bookshelf filled in the remaining space and more of Felicity’s photos decorated the wall.
The pictures were good. Ian had been right. She knew what she was doing with a camera.
“Felicity has explained to you my suspicions about Graham’s death?” Ian asked Westley as he hitched a hip on the edge of the desk.
“She has, sir.” Worry camped in his gut. “Why hasn’t there been an official investigation?”
Ian’s expression turned even more grim. “There’s no evidence to follow. Only my gut feeling that the case Graham was working on had turned deadly. I’ve tried to piece together what I can from the civilian police report.”
“Which is?” Westley asked.
“In a rather suspect neighborhood of San Antonio, a motorcycle struck a civilian and left the scene. The bike had a Canyon Air Force Base sticker on the back. The witness could only say the rider was dressed all in black to match his bike.”
“The victim?” Felicity asked.
“Broken back. Paralyzed from the waist down.”
Empathy dampened her eyes. “That’s horrible.”
Westley hated the thought that someone from the base would be so dishonorable as to leave the scene. Unless the hit wasn’t an accident. A foul taste rose from his stomach. “Was the victim targeted?”
“Not that I can tell,” Ian said. “It seems more like a bad case of ‘wrong place, wrong time’ on both sides. The roads were slick from a recent rain. The streetlights were out when the pedestrian stepped off the curb into the path of the bike.”
“Do we know what Agent Monroe’s case files look like?” Westley asked as he picked up a stack of file folders. “Were they in a notebook or in a folder like these?”
“Dad kept meticulous records,” Felicity said. “But I don’t know how he managed his work cases.” She looked to Ian. “Have you found my dad’s laptop?”
Ian shook his head.
Felicity frowned. “I haven’t seen his laptop here. I’ve been through his safe and nothing important was in there.”
“We need to find that computer,” Ian stated. “His notes and the lead he was working on will be on the hard drive.”
Westley’s blood pressure rose. “We’re going to have to work on the assumption that this guy didn’t find the computer based on the condition of the house. We need to keep her safe.”
“Which is why you’re here, Master Sergeant James.”
Westley pulled in a bracing breath and met Felicity’s gaze. She rolled her eyes in response. Oh, yeah. This was going to be fun.
Ian headed toward the door. “I need to focus on the hunt for Boyd Sullivan. I trust you two will be circumspect in searching for Graham’s case notes and his computer. I hate to think someone in the OSI could be involved, but as far as I know Graham didn’t share with anyone that he had a lead that would break the hit-and-run case.”
“Yes, sir,” Westley assured him. “We’ll keep our investigation on the down low.”
“You’ll let us know if you hear any more about what Boyd is up to?” Felicity asked. “I’m praying he left the base now that everyone is looking for him.”
“One can hope so,” Ian said as he left the house.
When they were alone, Westley asked, “Where else could your father have hidden his laptop?”
Felicity thought for a moment. Her gaze lifted to the ceiling. “There’s an attic crawl space used for storage.”
“Let’s go check it out,” Westley said. “Dakota,” he called to the black German shepherd who had taken an interest in her father’s desk.
Dakota had dropped to his belly and crawled beneath the desk until only his tail poked out. When the dog tried to back out, the whole desk shook. Dakota growled, his paws digging into the carpet as he tugged.
Westley hurried over, kneeled and peered under the desk. Needing light, he took his Maglite from his utility belt and aimed it into the space. Felicity scooted in on her knees and pressed close to Westley. He had to fight to keep focused on the dog rather than on the soft curves melding into him and the vanilla scent of her hair teasing his senses.
Dakota’s collar had caught on a metal latch in the side of the wood desk.
Felicity dropped onto her belly and wiggled her way farther beneath the desk.
“There’s a secret compartment. Dakota must have followed my dad’s scent under here,” she said with excitement ringing in her voice. “But I can’t release the latch or unhook his collar.”
“Let me.” Westley squeezed in next to her. “Hold this.”
He handed off the flashlight. Her slim fingers closed over his, creating warm spots on his skin before she relieved him of the device. He flexed his hand and then grasped the little metal hook. The awkward position didn’t make it easy, but he managed to unlatch the door which popped open, freeing Dakota. The dog quickly scrambled away from the desk.
Felicity shone the beam of light into the compartment.
“What’s that?” Felicity reached past him to grasped what was in the secret cubby. They both shimmied out from beneath the desk.
Felicity held up her find.
A key with strange grooves along the blade and an oblong bow with a cutout in the center glinted in the light.
He met her confused gaze. “Any idea what the key opens?”
She shook her head. “I don’t. But the key has to be important if Dad hid it.”
Westley had to agree. Whatever the key opened would lead them to her father’s killer. He knew it in his bones. But how would they find the lock?
FIVE
Shaken to her core at finding the key hidden in her father’s desk, Felicity’s fingers trembled. In them she held the one clue that could lead them to her father’s murderer.
Westley helped Felicity to her feet. His big, strong, capable hands dwarfed hers, making her feel feminine and treasured. For a moment, she wanted to hang on to him in case she needed steadying. If she was honest with herself she’d admit she liked having him close after such a horrible day. He was solid and secure. And she found herself wanting to lean on him for support.
But she squared her shoulders, took a breath and stepped away from him, forcing him to release her. She had to stay strong. Not show any weakness.
He tucked his hands into the pockets of his uniform jacket.
Holding up the key to inspect it, she said, “I’ve never seen this before.”
“Could it be to his desk at the OSI office?” Westley asked.
“Ian said Dad’s desk had been emptied.”
“Maybe a footlocker or gym locker?”
“Dad used the base rec-center gym, but the lockers there have combination locks on them.” She walked to the office closet and opened the door. “Dad’s old service footlocker is in here.” She pushed back a rack of coats. “It doesn’t have a lock on it, though.”
“Maybe the key goes to something inside the locker?” Westley suggested.
“Maybe.” She tugged the box from the closet. Westley hurried over to help her. His nearness did funny things to her insides. She should have felt crowded, but instead she was comforted by his presence. Maybe that was why she’d felt the urge to hang on to him when she stood. She was glad she wasn’t going through this alone.
She lifted the lid and surveyed the contents. A folded flag, boxes holding her father’s service medals and a stack of letters in her mother’s handwriting bound by a rubber band.
Westley rocked back on his heels. “Would your father have stashed his laptop in here?”
“Doubtful,” she said as she closed the lid with disappointment. “And if he had, the computer’s gone now.”
“We need to take the key to Ian,” Westley said. “Do you want me to hold it for safekeeping?”
“We do need to take the key to him. But until then I’ll keep it.” Her father had hidden the key for a reason. Until she knew the reason, the key stayed with a Monroe.
She reached beneath the collar of her uniform and tugged out a gold chain with a delicate cross that her grandmother had given to her on her sixteenth birthday. She quickly undid the clasp and slipped the key onto the chain before rehooking the clasp. She let the necklace rest against her uniform.
Placing a hand over it and taking solace from the tiny reminder of Grandma Esther, she said, “Where I go, it goes.”
A low growl emanated from Dakota seconds before they heard heavy footsteps in the living room.
With a hand on his sidearm, Westley positioned himself in front of Felicity. Dakota stepped in front of Westley, his tail up, his ears back. Tension radiated from the dog.
Felicity froze, once again wishing she had her own sidearm. She’d talk to Lieutenant General Hall about it tomorrow. For now, she stayed rooted to the spot behind her two protective males.