The Military K-9 Unit Collection. Valerie Hansen
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a supportive boss today. Unusual but appreciated. She needed to take a deep breath and gather herself together.
“Nothing, I hope.” But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the mailbox. She stepped closer and she pushed the door, intending to close it, but something blocked it from shutting.
Aggravated, she yanked the door all the way open. A red rose popped out to lie flat on the open metal flap. She gasped and jerked her hand back as if the flower was a copperhead snake.
Then her eyes focused on a folded white sheet of paper.
Her knees threatened to give out. Boyd had been here.
One thing was clear—she hadn’t been imagining things. Yet, her mind tapped with the niggling knowledge that strange things had been happening long before today. Her body went numb as fear drenched her in a cold sweat.
“We need to call Security Forces.”
Westley’s deep, gravelly voice rumbled in her chest. She could only nod. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
After he made the call, he turned her to face him. “Look at me,” he instructed.
She stared at him. Morning sunlight reflected in his light blue eyes and gleamed in his dark hair. She couldn’t deny he was handsome, and at this moment, he, of all people, anchored her. If she wasn’t so freaked out, she’d find that odd. She wasn’t sure the man even liked her. But there was concern in his eyes now. Concern for her. Crazy, really. But then again, it had been that kind of morning.
She took a breath and then swallowed. “I think he may have been in my house.”
“What?”
“When I woke up this morning someone stood at the foot of my bed. But when I turned on the light, no one was there.” She didn’t mention the other times she’d had the sensation that someone had been in her home or was watching her. Today was bad enough.
“Are you kidding me?” he sputtered. “Why didn’t you report it?”
She bristled at the censure in his tone. “I thought I was imagining things.” Her heart beat painfully in her chest. She yanked her gaze from him and stared at the house. “But why leave a note and the rose when he could have killed me in my sleep?”
Westley studied her face, making her want to squirm. “Could it have been a nightmare?”
The sympathy and understanding in his tone sent another rush of anxiety through her. Did he suspect her PTSD? Had Dr. Flintman talked to her boss? The thought horrified her.
“Maybe,” she admitted, not willing to fully commit to the diagnosis and what that might mean for her future with the K-9 unit.
“You’ve suffered a tragic loss recently,” he reminded her more gently than she would have thought him capable, making her wonder if he’d suffered the loss of someone close to him as well.
Losing her father to a senseless accident was a scar she’d carry with her forever. And it may be the cause of her imaginings, yet... “It doesn’t make sense,” she said again.
“What doesn’t?”
Would Westley think she was going nuts? She was loath to give him any more reasons to view her in a bad light. He’d already made it clear he thought she needed to improve her training skills because he constantly corrected her whenever he observed her with the dogs.
Still, she had to confide in someone. And he was here. “Weird things have been happening lately. Long before Boyd escaped prison.”
His dark eyebrows drew together. “Like what?”
She took another bracing breath. Was she really going to share this with him? Did she have a choice?
“Little things,” she said. “Like objects moved and doors and cabinets left open when I know they were shut.” Like her clock being turned toward the wall this morning.
Had Boyd been standing at the foot of her bed? She shivered. Could there be someone else on base who had it in for her? Or was she imagining it all?
But the rose and note were real.
“Maybe whoever helped Sullivan onto base is trying to scare you,” Westley said. “But why would Boyd and his accomplice want to terrorize you?”
Distaste boiled up and twisted her lips. “The only reason I can think of is because I refused a second date with Boyd during BMT.”
Westley sucked in a noisy breath. “Just like a couple of the victims in Dill.”
“Yes.” She hated that she’d even gone on the one date, but she’d been lonely and he’d been interested. “He’d seemed charming and nice at first.”
Her words gave her pause. Didn’t they say that about most serial killers? Neighbors and colleagues were often shocked to learn they’d been living or working closely with someone capable of such horrendous acts.
“Then he’d made it abundantly clear he wasn’t a believer. A must for me.”
Was Westley a believer, she wondered. In the six months she’d been in his command, she’d never had a deep or personal conversation with him. He was too guarded, too critical. She wondered what made him tick beyond his perfectionism.
“Did he hurt you?”
The anger lacing Westley’s words sent a funny little ribbon of warmth winding through her. But, of course, Westley would feel anger. In spite of his questioning if she belonged in the unit, he was a man of integrity and honor.
“No. I fended him off when he got handsy at the end of the night.”
“You can take care of yourself,” he said, with a good dose of pride lacing his voice, which confused her.
His words might have been a compliment, but she crossed her arms in front of her, squeezing her rib cage as tight as she could to keep from splitting into a million pieces. “There are times when I wished I didn’t have to.” She hated that her voice broke.
Westley dropped the lead he held and stepped on it to keep Tiger from running off, then he slipped his arms around her and drew her to his chest. He felt solid and strong. The spicy scent of his aftershave teased her senses, making the shock of his actions even more startling.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he vowed.
She believed him. Despite how infuriating she found him at times, she respected his work ethic and his diligence in making sure the dogs were well trained before being assigned a handler. He never said something he didn’t mean. And he always followed through on his word.
But the last thing she needed was Westley thinking she was needy. Besides, the United States Air Force had strict rules about fraternization. She wouldn’t risk her career for a hug of comfort.
She disengaged from him and stepped back seconds before a black SUV roared down the street and stopped at the curb, followed by a Security Forces vehicle.
Westley picked up Tiger’s lead and had the dog heel at his side as they waited.
Tech Sergeant Linc Colson climbed out of the vehicle with his canine, a female Rottweiler named Star, but the pair hung back as Special Agent Ian Steffen from the Office of Special Investigations stepped out of the black SUV. Felicity knew the fortyish officer through her father, who’d also been a special agent with the OSI.
Ian’s speculative gaze bounced between Westley and Felicity. Felicity’s stomach clenched. Had Ian witnessed the hug?
“Master Sergeant James,” Ian said, acknowledging Westley’s salute.
Felicity raised her hand to touch her temple in respect of the man’s rank.
“At ease. Are you okay, Staff Sergeant Monroe?” Ian asked.
“I am, sir.” She gestured to the mailbox. “But there’s