Mission To Protect. Terri Reed

      Neither could Felicity. The whole thing seemed surreal. Boyd Sullivan escaping prison, getting on base in the dark of night and killing three people and terrorizing three more. She prayed God would bring Boyd to justice quickly.

      “He took my dad’s cross necklace,” Maisy said, drawing Felicity’s attention.

      That was odd. Boyd hadn’t collected souvenirs from his past victims. At least not that Felicity recalled. What did it mean when a serial killer changed his MO?

      She shuddered with anxiety, afraid they were going to find out before all was said and done.

      * * *

      When the door closed behind the women, Westley had to fight to remain in place and not follow Felicity out. He didn’t like not having eyes on her. If anything happened to her...

      “Have a seat,” Lieutenant General Hall told the men who had stood as the ladies left the room.

      The men resettled themselves in their seats around the conference table, all attention focused on the base commander.

      Lieutenant General Hall pinned Westley to his chair with an intense stare. “Master Sergeant James, care to explain why you left the meeting earlier without permission?”

      Westley sat up straighter, glad Felicity was in the hall and not witness to his dressing down. He gave the lieutenant general his reason, hoping he didn’t reveal more than concern for his employee.

      “It appears you were right to be alarmed for her welfare,” Lieutenant General Hall said. “I’ll overlook your lack of protocol this one time.”

      Easing out a relieved breath, Westley inclined his head. “Thank you, sir.”

      “Now, how do we ferret out the person who helped Sullivan get on base?” Lieutenant General Hall’s gaze traveled over the men at the table and settled on Oliver Davison. “What can you tell us about the prison break?”

      “We’ve confirmed Sullivan bribed two guards into letting him out of his cell and into the docking bay, where he crawled into the back of a laundry truck and escaped,” Oliver said.

      Westley’s phone buzzed with another incoming text from the training center. He glanced at it and was glad to read the growing total of dogs recovered.

      Lieutenant General Hall focused on Captain Justin Blackwood. “How did he get on base?”

      “Sir, we’re still working on that,” Justin replied. He sat at the table with his hands braced on his knees. “All personnel are being asked to report their whereabouts for the past twenty-four hours. It will take us time to verify every alibi.”

      “And what of Sullivan’s half-sister?” Oliver asked. He consulted his notebook. “Staff Sergeant Zoe Sullivan.”

      “We are looking into her, sir.” Linc spoke up for the first time. He’d taken a position leaning against the wall rather than sitting at the table. “She’s a flight instructor and is currently in the air. But when she lands, we’ll be questioning her.”

      “Keep me informed of your progress,” Lieutenant General Hall said. He trained his gaze on Justin. “You also received a rose and note, did you not?”

      Justin nodded. “Yes, sir.”

      Surprise washed through Westley.

      Oliver asked Justin, “What has Sullivan got against you?”

      “I was one of his basic instructors, sir,” Justin replied. “I called him on the carpet on multiple occasions for slacking off and harassing the female recruits.”

      “Stay vigilant, Captain,” Lieutenant General Hall instructed.

      “I will, sir.”

      To Westley, Lieutenant General Hall said, “How are you progressing on recovering the dogs?”

      “We have half recovered so far, sir.” Not nearly enough. There were still so many dogs missing. Westley hated to think about what could happen to the dogs if they made their way off base or deep into the woods or onto the runway. “Everyone on base is helping to bring the dogs in safely.”

      “Excellent.” Lieutenant General Hall turned to First Lieutenant Ethan Webb. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room.”

      “Yes, sir,” Westley murmured in agreement along with the others.

      “It seems Sullivan has been busy,” Lieutenant General Hall said. “Either before coming here or shortly after, he visited Baylor marine base and left a rose and note for Lieutenant Jillian Masters.”

      Westley’s gaze shot to Ethan, who sat across the table. Jillian was Ethan’s ex-wife, though she’d retaken her maiden name. “Why would she be a target?”

      Ethan’s jaw firmed. “Jillian had a run-in with Boyd shortly before his discharge. She’d been on base observing a K-9 seminar I was conducting. This was back when we were married. Boyd tried flirting with her, and it didn’t go over well. Jillian can be...cutting when she wants.”

      Westley had only met the woman once. She’d definitely had an edge to her.

      “But we don’t know when Sullivan was at Baylor?” Linc said. “He may not be on base now.”

      “We can’t assume anything,” the OSI agent, Ian Steffen, stated. “We have five known targets. We need to be vigilant and catch him, if and when, he makes a move.”

      Acid churned in Westley’s gut at the thought of Felicity in danger. Granted, she was in the law-enforcement track and trained to take care of herself, but so were Sullivan’s other victims, and yet the fiend had killed three well-trained airmen.

      At least with her at the training center, he’d be able to keep an eye on her during the day. He’d ask for permission to send home a German shepherd named Glory to protect her at night. Glory was a fierce dog with great protective instincts.

      Hall slammed a palm on the table. “I will not have this maniac running rampant on my base.”

      “If I may suggest,” Ian said, “you reassign Staff Sergeant Monroe to a more visible base position, where she will draw Boyd out in the open. Sullivan has to know security will be beefed up at the training center now, especially with two homicides on site.”

      Westley’s heart pounded as the agent’s words echoed through the room. “You want to make her a sacrificial lamb?” The thought of deliberately putting her in harm’s way made his blood run cold.

      “You don’t think she’s up to the task?” Ian asked, his tone soft but intense.

      Westley didn’t doubt Felicity’s abilities. He just didn’t like tempting danger. Not when that danger was in the form of Boyd Sullivan, a man who had already killed eight people. “No. I mean, she’ll be safer at the training center.”

      Ian arched an eyebrow. “Duly noted. However, of the three female targets, she’s the only one in the law-enforcement track.”

      Lieutenant General Hall sat back and rubbed his chin. “The base photographer is being transferred to another assignment. Does Staff Sergeant Monroe know her way around a camera?”

      “I can answer that, sir,” Ian said. “I know for a fact that she does. Her father’s office was covered with photos she’d taken.”

      Westley had seen her with a nice camera on numerous occasions, taking pictures of the dogs. And he’d seen the images. Though she’d claimed photography was a hobby, as far as he was concerned, her work was professional-grade.

      But Westley couldn’t protect Felicity if she wasn’t at the training center. Responsibility weighed heavy on his shoulders. Knowing he was going out on a very thin and fragile limb, Westley met the OSI agent’s gaze. “I want to be detailed to her protection.”

      Ian studied him with speculation in his eyes.