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 that.”
Ian slipped on a pair of latex gloves and removed the rose from the mailbox, placing it inside an evidence bag. He then unfolded the note and read it aloud. “‘I’m coming for you.’”
The ominous words reverberated through Felicity, burning an acidic trail along her veins. There was no doubt who wrote the note. Boyd Sullivan. The Red Rose Killer.
“The crime-scene unit will dust the mailbox for prints,” Ian told her as he placed the note in a separate evidence bag. “But doubtful Sullivan was dumb enough to leave any behind.”
Boyd may have been a hothead and full of himself, but he’d been smart. The first time he’d gone on a rampage he’d evaded capture longer than anyone thought he would. A tremor of anxiety worked its way over her skin.
Once Ian had the rose and note stowed away, he said to her, “How are you holding up? Your father was a good man and my friend.”
Tears burned her eyes. She blinked them back, along with the sharp pang of grief. “I’m managing.”
He nodded, compassion softening the lines in his face. “This doesn’t help. You are to come to base command with me.”
“But the dogs?” Her priority—her job—was finding the canines and returning them to their kennels safely.
“I’m sure Master Sergeant James and Tech Sergeant Colson can handle the dogs,” Ian stated firmly. “Lieutenant General Hall wants anyone with a connection to Boyd brought to base command.”
She glanced at Westley. He gave her a slight nod.
Linc stepped up. “Actually, sir, Lieutenant General Hall would like Master Sergeant James to return to base command, as well. But we’ll take the dog to the center first.”
Felicity climbed in the passenger side of Ian’s SUV as Westley and Tiger followed Linc and Star to the other vehicle. They drove away while Ian and Felicity waited until the crime-scene-unit techs arrived and took possession of the rose and note.
As Ian drove them to the northwest end of base, he asked, “Do you know what your father was working on prior to his death?”
Startled by the question, she shook her head. “He never divulged his cases to me.”
Ian remained silent for a moment. “Do you believe his death was an accident?”
She stared at his profile. “He fell off a ladder cleaning the gutters of the house.”
Yet even as the words left her mouth, the nagging thought she’d had since the moment she’d seen her father lying on the ground roared to the surface.
Graham Monroe had been an extremely cautious man. He would never have gone on the sloped roof without either someone holding the ladder, or without hooking a safety harness to the metal rung he’d attached to the roof. So why hadn’t he tied off to protect himself from falling that fateful day?
Dread filled her. “Are you telling me my father’s death wasn’t an accident?”
Had her father been murdered?
“Dude, what were you thinking?”
Linc’s pointed question stabbed at Westley. They were friends so Westley didn’t take exception to the tone or the probing. Taking Felicity into his arms was a huge slip in judgment. He knew the rules. Fraternization with a subordinate could get him and her bounced out of the air force.
A stupid move.
But in that moment, she’d looked so vulnerable he couldn’t stop himself from comforting her. The fact that she’d felt so right snuggled against his chest burned a hole through his heart.
She fit him...they fit together—just as he’d imagined.
For the past six months, ever since she’d walked into the training center as a newly promoted staff sergeant, her blue-green eyes sparkling and her infectious grin shining like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, he’d been struggling with his attraction for the rookie K-9 trainer.
It had to stop.
Hadn’t he been telling himself that every day he worked with Felicity? Yes. And every night when she would slip into his dreams.
He didn’t understand it.
Not liking her should have been easy.
She was so annoyingly optimistic and bubbly. Her rookie mistakes sent his blood pressure skyrocketing and her ability to calm the dogs, though surprising and admirable, grated. Which made no sense at all.
The dogs trusted her from the get-go. And that fact told him about the type of person she was. The dogs sensed her kindness, trustworthiness and gentleness. But letting himself show any emotion regarding the rookie trainer was out of the question.
He’d even been harder on her than anyone else so no one would think he liked her. But that had only upset her, and in return made him angry at himself. He couldn’t win.
All those things made his lapse in judgment minutes ago that much worse. And he had no reasonable explanation for taking her into his arms.
He had no room in his life for her. Period. He wasn’t interested in forming any type of emotional bonds. He learned not to growing up, because ties only break and when they do they hurt.
He cast his eyes down, not knowing how to answer. Before he could, the tech sergeant spoke again. “Leaving the debriefing without permission wasn’t cool,
