She’d thrown herself into her temporary assignment wholeheartedly.
As much as Justin had dreaded her arrival, he was going to miss her when she was gone.
“Even if he decided to spend a few nights in an empty house, why turn on the lights? He knows this base. He knows that everyone on it is on high alert and searching for him.”
“If he’s there, he wants us to know it,” Justin responded. It was the only explanation that made sense. And it was the kind of game Sullivan liked to play—taunting his intended victims, letting them know that he was closing in. He left red roses and notes before he struck. I’m coming for you. He loved to kill, but terrorizing people was his drug of choice.
He needed to be stopped.
Tonight. Not in another month or two or three.
For the sake of the people on base and for Portia’s sake.
Just thinking about his sixteen-year-old daughter being targeted by Sullivan made Justin’s blood run cold. A year and a half ago, Portia had come to live with him unexpectedly and reluctantly, forced to give up her school and friends after her mother died in a car accident. The loss had hit her hard. A shy teenager who seemed to have trouble connecting with her peers, she’d turned to the internet for comfort and amused herself by blogging. Unfortunately, she’d chosen the wrong topic, and had been unmasked as the anonymous blogger on the Red Rose Killer.
She’d had no idea, of course, that Justin and Boyd had crossed paths long before Boyd’s escape from prison. She’d had no idea just how much danger she was putting herself in.
While Justin and his team had struggled to find Boyd and identify the anonymous blogger, Portia had been quietly listening to their conversations and gathering information that she’d posted online. Worse, she’d mocked Boyd—a man who was as arrogant as he was dangerous. That, along with being Justin’s daughter, had put her in the crosshairs of the killer. She’d received a threatening note from Boyd a week ago, and that terrified Justin.
If anything happened to Portia, Justin would never forgive himself.
Please, Lord, help me keep her safe.
The prayer flitted through his mind as he turned into a cul-de-sac and eyed the darkened windows of the houses there. This was the quiet residential area of the base. Single-family homes that housed the larger families of airmen and officers.
“It’s the brick two-story, right?” Gretchen asked, leaning forward as he approached the house.
“Yes.”
“And our witness was certain of what she saw?”
“Yes. She said the house was lit up like a beacon. Almost every room in it. She noticed when she brought her dog out for a walk. Her husband is deployed, and she didn’t want to check it out herself, so she called it in.”
“It could have been a cleaning crew. That is a nice-size house, and there are plenty of air force personnel with big families who’d love to have it. I doubt it’s going to stay empty long,” Gretchen suggested as Justin pulled into the driveway of the two-story brick home. Currently there were no lights in any of the windows. The front door was closed, as were all the visible windows. Someone may have been there, but the place looked empty now.
“That thought crossed my mind, but I want to check it out, anyway.” He turned off the engine, and his K-9, Quinn, shifted impatiently in his travel crate. The Belgian Malinois loved his work, and he was anxious to get out and do it. Trained in suspect apprehension, he had a great nose and a strong prey-and-play drive that made him easy to train and a pleasure to work with. When they’d first been partnered together, Quinn had reminded Justin of Scout—a German shepherd he’d found as a puppy and fostered until he was old enough to enter the K-9 training program. At the time, Justin already had a K-9 partner. Scout had been partnered with another officer and earned a reputation for being a superstar on the team, but he’d remained one of Justin’s favorite dogs.
Now he was missing, along with two more of the four superstar German shepherds that had been released from the kennels by Sullivan.
“Ready, boy?” Justin asked his K-9 as he climbed out of the SUV.
Quinn shifted again, whining softly.
“What’s the plan?” Gretchen asked, following him to the back of the SUV.
“Quinn and I will do a perimeter search. He’ll know if someone is here.”
“You and Quinn? And I’m supposed to wait here and twiddle my thumbs?”
“You are going to keep your eye on the front door. I don’t want anyone escaping out the front while Quinn and I are around back.”
“Come on, Captain. You know that’s not going to happen.”
“When it comes to Boyd Sullivan, I know we need to expect the unexpected.” He opened Quinn’s crate and hooked the dog to his leash.
“When it comes to Sullivan, you’d be happy if you could keep everyone away from him. Admit it. You want me to stay here so I don’t get anywhere close to the guy we’re after.”
She was right, but he wasn’t going to argue the validity of his feelings. The fact was, he was Boyd’s target, and he didn’t want Gretchen to be collateral damage. “Stay here, Captain.”
He headed around the side of the house, Quinn heeling beside him. The dog was nearly prancing with excitement, his nose in the air, his tail high.
And Gretchen, of course, was following, her boots thudding softly on the grassy side yard.
“I told you to stay with the vehicle,” he said, not glancing in her direction. His focus was ahead—the dark backyard and shadowy corners.
“Unfortunately for you, we’re of equal rank and equal authority. This is your base, so usually I do things your way, but going into a situation like this without backup is dangerous. So, this time, I’m doing things my way,” she said, and he couldn’t argue. If Boyd weren’t a factor, he wouldn’t have told her to stay at the SUV.
They were both well-trained military police officers.
They’d both reached the rank of captain.
She was as capable as Justin.
He was still worried.
Quinn turned a tight circle at the corner of the house, his ears twitching, his scruff raised.
He’d caught a scent. Justin released him from the leash.
“Find,” he commanded, and Quinn barked once, excited. Eager. He bounded toward the back door of the house, head high, obviously detecting a scent.
Please, God, let it be Boyd, Justin prayed silently.
He wanted this over. He wanted Boyd behind bars, his victims finally receiving the justice they deserved, their families finally receiving closure.
Portia safe.
Quinn snuffled an old mat that had been left near the back door, turned a
