Rescue Operation. Lenora Worth
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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.
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?”
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