Rescue Operation. Lenora Worth
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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.
In spite of the circumstances, this man whom she didn’t want to like had become ingrained in her psyche. In