“Right now all available resources are on the Red Rose Killer case,” Ian said. “That’s why you have been detailed to Felicity’s protection.”
“Last report we heard, Boyd’s not on base,” Felicity said.
“There have been sightings in multiple places at multiple times. It’s like sorting sand for a specific granule,” Ian replied, sounding harassed. “The sightings could be to confuse us. To keep us from looking on base.”
She could only imagine the pressure Ian was under. They all felt it to some degree.
“Plus, we’re working on ferreting out Boyd’s accomplice. Interviewing every single person on base, double-checking alibis and looking for any connections to Boyd.” Ian wiped a hand over his jaw. “The more time goes by, the more the trail goes cold. Everyone is on high alert.” He pinned her with his gaze. “We had the photos you’ve taken analyzed. But there’s no sign of Boyd.”
Felicity’s stomached knotted. Her priorities were split between justice for her father and helping to capture the serial killer. “I’ll be ready to resume taking pictures tomorrow,” she promised.
Westley put his hand on her shoulder. “You were poisoned. If you need more time, you’ll take it.”
The gruff tone would have set her defenses on edge in the past, but she’d come to realize his default mode when struggling with his emotions. Stifling the urge to give him a reassuring smile, she simply said, “I’m feeling fine.”
“Then I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Ian interjected. “Be safe.”
When Ian got into his vehicle and left, Felicity turned to face Westley. “You don’t completely trust him, do you?”
Westley shrugged. “I’m not sure what to think. He claims to want to catch your father’s killer yet...he’s not acting like the threat to your life is important.”
“I don’t believe that’s true. With Boyd Sullivan on the loose, the OSI is stretched thin. Ian has no way to prove my father was murdered. And he’s counting on you to protect me.”
The skepticism in his eyes said he wasn’t convinced. “Which I will,” he assured her.
“I know.” And that pleased her to no end.
They went inside the house. He followed her to her bedroom, where he inspected her corkboard, which was filled with photos and memorabilia, while she packed a duffel bag with a few days’ worth of clothes. She didn’t know how long they would stay at the training center, or if they’d move to her uncle’s or other base housing.
“You were a cute kid,” Westley commented with a smile.
She made a scoffing noise. “Hardly. I was gangly, self-conscious and an easy target.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “You were bullied?”
“A little.” She didn’t like thinking about the laughter of her schoolmates when she’d trip on her way to her desk. Or dropped the beaker full of vinegar in science class. Or when she got so excited during choir because she’d finally hit the right note only to knock three people off the risers, causing bruises and hurt feelings.
She zipped her bag with more force than necessary. “I was mostly uncoordinated. Clumsy. My mother was forever lamenting to anyone who would listen that she didn’t dare put out any fragile or breakable keepsakes because the ‘little whirlwind’ would destroy them.”
“You’ve grown out of that phase,” he said as he came up behind her. “Yes, you’re enthusiastic, but it’s part of your charm. Not to mention you’re beautiful, smart and brave.”
His words burrowed deep into her soul, soothing the sore spots she long thought healed. Her mouth went dry. She sent up a plea to God above that this was real. That Westley truly saw her how he claimed to.
He moved closer to her, his warm breath ruffling her hair. So close every cell in her body reacted, drawn toward him as if he exuded some magnetic force. She turned slowly to stare up into his handsome face, the memory of his kiss so fresh in her mind.
“You’re very distracting,” he said as he stepped back slightly.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It has been. We work together. You know the air-force policy on fraternization.”
“I’m not under your command.”
“Not now, but you will be again.” He headed to the door. “We shouldn’t linger here.”
She knew he was right, of course. Once the threat to her was neutralized, she and Westley would resume their roles at the training center. Which was what she wanted. Right?
“Let me just grab my bagful of lenses.” She headed to the closet and went up on tiptoe to reach the box where she kept an assortment of different types of lenses for her camera. Her fingertips clutched the edge and she worked to slide the box from the shelf.
“Here, let me help you.” Reaching over her head, Westley grabbed the sides of the box just as she backed up to make room for him. She stepped on his foot, stumbling against him. Reflexively, she fought for balance. Her elbow connected with his midsection as she tried to keep from falling. And succeeded in unintentionally knocking him off his feet. He landed on his backside while the box flew from his hands, the lid flying off and spilling the contents onto the carpet.
Mortified, her face flamed to what she was sure was a bright shade of red. “I’m so sorry.”
He stared at her with surprise on his handsome face then he burst into laughter. The deep sound resonated within her chest, eliciting a giggle. Thankfully he wasn’t angry at her clumsiness.
The release of hilarity at the situation freed some of her tension. She enjoyed the sound of his laugh and for a moment they were insulated from the dangers of the outside world.
She dropped to her knees beside him to collect her lenses and stared at the small electronic tablet.
She stilled. Her good humor faded, was replaced with a mix of anticipation and dread.
Her gaze lifted to meet Westley’s. “I think we’ve found what the intruder was looking for.”
Westley’s laughter died as Felicity’s words reverberated through his brain.
I think we’ve found what the intruder was looking for.
He sat straighter. His ribs were sore from where her boney elbow had made contact, reminding him of his tumble and that for a few minutes he’d let down his guard and enjoyed the moment. He seemed to let loose a lot around Felicity. There was something about her that freed him in ways he hadn’t experienced before. Best not to read too much into it, he decided. Instead he focused on her words. “What did you find?”
Felicity pushed aside a lens lying on the carpet to reveal a black tablet the size of a small notebook. “That is not mine.”
That piqued his interest. He studied it. “You think your father put it there?”
“I don’t know how else it would have gotten into my lens box.” She flicked a finger at the device. “This has to contain the evidence that will lead us to my father’s killer. This is most likely what the intruder was searching for. He must have only done a cursory look inside this box and since the tablet was at the bottom he missed it.”
The same intruder who’d shot Dakota. Thankfully the dog’s wound had been superficial, and he was now resting in his kennel. Westley rubbed his chin, contemplating their next move. Should he call the OSI? The crime-scene techs? So far the perpetrator had