What was going on?
Was the stress and grief of her fathers passing messing with her brain, as her therapist suggested? Was she losing her mind?
Wouldnt that just be the icing on the cake? Her mother already thought she was nuts for choosing to join the United States Air Force and train military dogs for service rather than follow in her footsteps and pursue a high-powered career in corporate law.
Felicity set aside the baseball bat.
Maybe someone was pulling a joke on her.
She dismissed the idea quickly. She didnt know anyone that cruel.
She turned the clock to see the time. Five after five in the morning. Perfect. The one day she could sleep in, and her psyche wouldnt let her. She wasnt expected at the training center until tonight. She usually had Sundays off and worked the Saturday-night shift, but had traded with Airman Tamara Peterson, who was taking a few days of leave to visit her parents and wanted to head out Sunday morning.
Felicity glanced at the clock again. Maybe she could nap for an hour or so more, then go to church.
Noises outside the bedroom window startled her. It was too early for most people to be up on a Sunday morning. She pushed aside the room-darkening curtain. The first faint rays of sunlight marched over the Texas horizon with hues of gold, orange and pink.
They provided enough light for Felicity to see a parade of dogs running loose along Base Boulevard. It could only be the dogs from the K-9 training center.
Stunned, her stomach clenched.
Someone had literally let the dogs out. Most of them, by the looks of it. At least a hundred or more canines filled the street and were quickly leaving the area.
Felicitys chest constricted. Had Tamara or Landon, the other trainer on last nights shift, forgotten to lock the gate? That didnt seem likely. Both were experienced trainers. Uneasy dread gripped her by the throat.
A dog barked, reminding her that the canines needed to be rounded up and returned to their kennels. She didnt want any of them to get hurt. Some of the dogs suffered PTSD from their service, while others were being trained to serve. Many were finished with their training and ready to be partnered, but set loose like this...
Galvanized into action, she hastily dressed in her battle-ready uniform.
On the way out the door, she grabbed her cell phone, intending to call her boss, Master Sergeant Westley James. Before she could dial, her phone pinged with an incoming alert text from the training center.
Urgent. Dogs kennels tampered with. Red Rose Killer escaped prison and believed to be on base. Use caution. Report in ASAP.
Felicity stopped in her tracks. Her heart fell to her feet then bounced back into her throat as fear struck hard through her core.
The Red Rose Killer.
Boyd Sullivan. Cold eyes, merciless.
She shuddered.
Two years ago, after being dishonorably discharged from the air force during basic training, Boyd had returned to his hometown of Dill, Texas, and killed five people whom hed believed had wronged him in some way.
The media had dubbed him the Red Rose Killer because he would leave a red rose and a note for his intended victims, taunting them with the warningIm coming for you. Then he made good on his threat, and each victim was found with an additional red rose and a new note tucked under their arm, with the words Got you.
A Dill sheriffs deputy and her K-9 partner had been the ones to bring down Sullivan. Hed been captured, convicted and sent to prison.
And now hed escaped and was on base.
Why would he release the dogs? She remembered he always liked the furry creatures.
She dialed Westleys cell.
He answered on the first ring. Felicity. Did you hear the news?
Yes. There are dogs everywhere in base housing, she told him.
They are everywhere on base period. His voice sounded extra grim. We need to bring them in.
Ill retrieve as many as I can here and bring them over to the kennels.
Good. Ill send others over to help. There was a pause then he said, I should tell you there have been two murders.
She stilled. Fear whispered down her spine. Her pulse spiked. Murders? She swayed. Please, Lord, no. Tamara? Landon?
Yes.
Her heart sank. Tears flooded her eyes. That explained why the dogs were loose. She knew neither trainer would be so careless. Did Boyd Sullivan kill them?
Thats the assumption. Each was found with a red rose tucked under their arm and a note that read, Got you.
Boyd used that same tactic in Dill. But why would he go after Tamara and Landon?
I dont know, Westley replied. But right now the dogs need us.
Westleys no-nonsense tone made her pull herself together. The last thing she wanted was for him to consider her weak. He was stingy enough with his praise, especially for her. He was always watching and waiting for her to mess up, but just because she was the newest member, and the youngest on his team, didnt mean she didnt belong.
Strangely, though, she didnt feel the familiar prickling at the back of her neck that his words normally brought.
Her usual irritation with her handsome boss was muffled by grief and the need to act. This time he was correct. The dogs needed her.
She wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks and took a shuddering breath. Of course. Im going to find our dogs.
Be careful. Boyd is still out there.
His husky tone sent little shivers over her skin. She frowned, annoyed by her reaction. Though his words expressed concern for her, she knew his real concern was for the dogs. She could only imagine his upset. The dogs were his life.
Had Westley been the one to find Tamara Peterson and Landon Martelli? How had they been killed? Who would tell their families? Had they suffered? A million questions ran through her head, but she forced herself to stay focused. To be strong. Her mother would be proud of her. Maybe. Ill be careful, she assured him and hung up.
After pocketing her phone, she dug through her satchel for a small canister of pepper spray and slipped it into her front pocket. In case she met Boyd along the way.
* * *
Master Sergeant Westley James paced by the back wall of the large auditorium-style conference room.
Shortly after discovering the bodies of his trainers and alerting the bases USAF Security Forces, Westley had received a call from the base commander to report here. His stomach twisted with grief and shock as he glanced around the room, noting an eclectic mix of high-ranking officers and civilian personnel. With over seven thousand people on base, keeping Canyon Air Force Base running took a large staff.
He couldnt sit, though most everyone else had taken a seat. His heart still beat too fast. This wasnt where he should be. He needed to be out searching for the dogs. He struggled to stay in the moment.
The base commanders executive assistant, a civilian, Brenda Blakenship, had come in a few moments ago to say the debriefing would begin when the base commander and the basic-training commander arrived. Then shed left again. Conversations in hushed tones were a reflection of the somber mood.
As the lead trainer of the military working dogs training center, Westley oversaw the welfare of the two hundred and fifty dogs currently being trained in multiple disciplines from explosives and electronic detection to patrol. He was also responsible for the trainers and the various handlers from different branches of the military. It was a challenging post. He loved it.
And now the lives of two of his trainers had been senselessly taken, and the dogs were wandering the base, putting them in jeopardy. He itched to be out there looking for the dogs. Many of them were traumatized from combat service, which would make retrieving them that much harder. If the dogs were approached by someone they didnt know and trust... He feared for the safety of both dogs and humans.
Could this day get any worse?
His phone buzzed with an incoming text. He glanced at the message from Master Sergeant Caleb Streeter, another trainer, and was gratified to read the number of dogs brought safely in by the training staff. But there were still many left to recover.
The door to the auditorium opened. Westley put away his phone as Brenda entered with a folder in her hand and a grim expression on her face. Behind her, the base commander, Lieutenant General Hall, strode into the conference room, his face ashen.
Ive just received word that Chief Master Sergeant Clint Lockwood was found dead in his home of a gunshot wound to the heart, Lieutenant General Hall stated flatly. A red rose and note were also found.
Shock rippled through the room.
Westley placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. The horror of finding the two trainers bodies was still etched in Westleys brain. And now to hear that Lockwood was gone as well...
Lord, why would You allow this?
Westley didnt hold his breath waiting on God to give him an answer. Westley was used to Gods silence. As a scared kid hiding from the constant chaos of his parents fighting, hed often asked God to make them stop. But the fighting never did. Not until his dad was incarcerated, which threw Westley into a different sort of chaos.
Questions came at the base commander with lightning speed from those seated around the room.
Has the weapon been found? the air force recruitment commander asked from his seat at the front of the room.
Have we locked down the base? the chief master sergeant of the 12th flying training wing called out.
Have the FBI, OSI and the local police been notified? the cyberspace operations commander asked.
How did Boyd Sullivan escape prison? the vice commander of the medical wing demanded to know.
Lieutenant General Hall raised a hand to silence the group. Please, I will answer your questions as best I can. The weapon has not been found. The base is on lockdown. The feds and the local law enforcement will work closely with both Security Forces and the Office of Special Investigations. A fierce light entered the Lieutenant Generals gaze. Our problem is not how Boyd Sullivan escaped prison, but how he got on base.
Is he targeting those who were in his basic military training? Security Forces Captain Justin Blackwood asked.
He must have had help, the commander of the airlift wing pointed out.
Lieutenant General Hall once again raised his hand and the room quieted. If he holds true to form, he will most likely go after anyone he deems has wronged him. No doubt Sullivan blamed Chief Master Sergeant Lockwood for the dishonorable discharge.
Westleys fingers curled into fists at his sides. Boyd would pay dearly for his evil deeds. Westley prayed no other lives would be taken by Boyds hand.
We must consider Sullivan will go after those in his basic military training. Lieutenant General Hall nodded at Brenda.
She opened the file folder in her hand. Ive compiled a list of the personnel currently on base who were in the same training class as Boyd Sullivan.
Our first order of business is to secure these individuals and anyone else who had prior interaction with Boyd, Lieutenant General Hall interjected. Then we will root out the person who has helped this predator get on base.
As Brenda read the names, Westley tried to remember if Tamara or Landon had been in Sullivans BMT group, or even been on base at the time. He didnt think so.
Staff Sergeant Felicity Monroe.
Hearing his trainers name jerked Westleys thoughts back to the conference room. Felicity. His stomach dropped as his pulse spiked. She was supposed to have been on duty last night, but had changed shifts.
Had she been Sullivans intended target?
Fear streaked through his system like a fighter jet heading to battle. He couldnt let another person for whom he was responsible die. Not on his watch. He had to protect her.
Without asking permission, Westley raced out of the auditorium. He had to find Felicity.
* * *
Felicitys search for the dogs wasnt going very well. With the base alive and on alert, the dogs sensed the anxiety rippling through the air and were skittish. She moved with a slow, easy gait so as not to spook two dogs in her sights, a three-year-old German shepherd named Tiger and a two-year-old Belgian Malinois named Riff. Both were sniffing around the commissary.
As she approached, both dogs lifted their heads to eye her, their tails swishing.
Come, she commanded while holding a treat in her hand against her thigh, which would bring the dogs in close enough to grab by the collar.
Tiger abandoned his sniffing to comply. As he took the treat from her, she hooked her fingers beneath his collar and swiftly attached a leash to the ring. Now to get the Malinois.
Riff, she said. Here, boy.
The dogs ears twitched but he made no move to obey. She and Tiger stepped closer. Riff moved away, nose back to the ground. Frustration beat at her temples. Come on, Riff.
The dog had done well inside the confines of the center, but out in the open, not so much. Now she understood why Westley had said the dog wasnt ready to be paired with a human. Shed disagreed at the time and had even accused him, albeit silently, of holding back Riff because he didnt like her. Now she knew her boss had been right.
Riff had a long way to go in his training. She didnt relish admitting that to Westley. Hed give her that tight-lipped nod that irritated her nerves and made her feel as if she didnt measure up to his standards. Her commanding officer certainly knew how to push her buttons...unfortunately.
Tiger spun around and barked, his tail rigid and his ears up.
Seconds later she heard the sound of pounding feet and her adrenaline spiked. She reached for her pepper spray with her free hand and whirled with the can up and her finger hovering over the trigger, ready to protect herself from an assault.
Westley held his hands up, palms facing out, as he skidded to a halt. Whoa. Its me.
Not Boyd, as she dreaded. Heart racing, she lowered the canister, thankful she hadnt let loose a stream of stinging spray.
Tiger relaxed and moved closer to Westley.
Felicity took in a deep breath. Exasperation made her voice sharp when she said, You scared me. Her gaze jumped to Riff as the dog ran away. Riff!
The dog disappeared around the corner of the building.
You were right, she conceded. We need to work on his recall.
We will, Westley assured her as he took Tigers lead from her hand. Right now, my only concern is you.
The grim set of his jaw alerted her heightened senses. Had she done something wrong? Made a mistake? Her defenses rose, making her straighten. Me? Im doing my best to bring the dogs in.
For a moment, confusion entered his gaze then cleared. Lieutenant General Hall believes Boyd Sullivan is targeting those who were in his basic-military-training class, he replied, his voice harsh.