most of the K-9s go in an attempt to distract the entire Security Forces unit. They’d been searching for him for months.
“I can’t believe this,” he said, voicing his doubts. Oliver still remembered what the Red Rose Killer was capable of.
Ava nodded, her camouflage uniform weighed down with a backpack, weapons and equipment. All wet now. “Believe it, Special Agent. I’m still in shock myself.” Shaking water off her helmet, she added, “We’d expected this but I didn’t think he’d show up the minute my boots hit the ground.”
“Where?” Oliver asked, ready to get down to business. He had to admit, she looked a little shook-up but she was holding things together. Meanwhile, he had to tell himself to stay calm.
Pointing to a thicket behind him, she said, “Right over there.”
Lightning flashed like a spotlight, followed by a rolling thunder that stomped through the trees and shook the woods.
Figured everything would start happening during one of the worst storms of late summer.
After four years of living and working in the San Antonio FBI Bureau, Oliver still hated these Texas downpours and the humidity that always surrounded them. At times like this, he missed the New York town where he’d grown up.
Pushing away memories, Oliver focused on Ava Esposito, questions rolling through his mind.
Leaning in so he could make himself heard over the thunder and lightning putting on a show over the forest reserve behind the base, he stared at the stubborn woman standing beside him.
“So, Senior Airman Esposito, you’re sure the person you saw was Boyd Sullivan—the Red Rose Killer?”
“Yes,” she said on an impatient note, brown eyes making him think of how much he wanted a cup of coffee right now. “First, we were shot at when we rappelled out of the chopper. And now this.”
“Who is we?”
“Myself, K-9 handler Chad Watson and Security Forces officer Buster Elliott. The crew wanted us to abort, but we were halfway down, so we dropped and spread out. The shots continued while the chopper circled. But our gunner couldn’t fire, because of the concerns for the boy.”
Turner Johnson, the seven-year-old who’d gone missing while playing in his backyard this morning. The boy’s high-ranking parents were beside themselves because the whole area had been warned about an escaped convict possibly being in the vicinity. Just one more wrinkle that concerned Oliver more than a little bit. The killer had reportedly left the base a few days ago but they’d had signs over the last couple days that he might be back in the area. Now they had proof. But they also had to search for a rambunctious kid known for sneaking into the woods behind his house.
“And what happened next?”
“We hit the dirt, returned a round of fire and the shooting stopped long enough for me to come upon Sullivan. He told me to hold off my man, so he must have seen Buster and Chad rappelling down behind me and he must have known that Chad went in the other direction. Then the shooting started up again, and he got away. I called you immediately and then we went about our business. Buster searched for Sullivan but to no avail, and Chad went off on another search grid. Roscoe alerted in this spot a few minutes later.”
“You were right to call me.”
“Yes, but now I’m regretting that decision. We’ve got a whole team on the alert and you’re wasting time not believing me.”
“I’m trying to get a handle on this. Go on.”
Taking a breath, she squared her shoulders. “Roscoe started digging and I tried to follow his lead until you got here. But I can assure you the man I saw was Sullivan. I certainly know his face and I know what he’s capable of doing.”
Oliver saw a slight tremble forming on her lips. Delayed reaction. He had to keep her talking, however. “What happened between you two? Did you try to detain him?”
Ava gave him a look that asked, So this is how you’re gonna play this?
“Sullivan held an M4 on me. He was wearing a tight uniform that obviously didn’t belong to him and a black tam. He looked me in the eye and said, ‘I’m not here to hurt you.’”
Motioning behind them, she said, “He also told me to pretend I’d never seen him and ordered me to call off my guard. I didn’t get to question him since more gunfire erupted and Sullivan used the distraction to get away.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that,” she said, grinding out each word. “Last time we saw him, he was headed west.”
Oliver felt a headache coming on. His black water-resistant FBI jacket sparkled with fat raindrops. “But he told you he wasn’t shooting at you? And he just walked away?”
“He told me he wasn’t going to hurt me,” she said again, her porcelain skin damp and dewy. “What part of I stood face-to-face with the Red Rose Killer don’t you understand?”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Oliver replied, matching her inch for inch since she was almost as tall as him, his eyes holding hers in a stubborn standoff that not even a torrential rain could stop. “The man killed five people in his hometown and he’s gone on a killing spree on this base throughout the summer. Not to mention he has a whole target list that he wants to kill. And we have reason to believe he also killed Airman Drew Golosky a few days ago in order to get his uniform and ID for base access. But he tells you he’s not going to hurt you?”
“Yes, Special Agent Davison,” Ava Esposito said again, aggravation deeply embedded in her words. “But someone did shoot at me and then Boyd Sullivan headed into the woods. I think that shooter, along with my K-9 partner and Buster watching my back, saved me.”
Stomping water off her boots, she added, “The shooter must have been covering Sullivan. If that’s the case, then he has some help. Which we’ve suspected all along. So let me get back to my work, and you go find the Red Rose Killer and whoever else is out there.”
He wanted to find Boyd Sullivan, all right. Especially since he had a personal beef with the man. Most of the investigative team knew Oliver’s history with Boyd Sullivan, even if they didn’t bring it up. Oliver was the only one who knew the whole truth about Madison’s past, and that she’d been briefly involved with Sullivan in high school and again a few years ago when she’d been dating Oliver. Her murder was still too personal for Oliver to talk about, and he couldn’t risk being pulled off the case because of his personal interest. His SAC had approved his coming here, with the stipulation that he didn’t have a personal vendetta. But how could he not?
Needing the whole picture, he asked, “Did you send your K-9 partner after him?”
“Roscoe alerted on this cave,” she replied, pointing to the jagged four-foot-high rock face covered in bushes. “I kept him here because I was concerned about getting shot before I could locate the missing boy who might be inside.”
A little boy missing in six hundred acres of dense thicket overgrown with clusters of trees and heavy brush. A place where dark caves and craggy hills and rocky bluffs made searching that much harder. A place where all types of predators, from poisonous snakes to wild animals of
