closer to the table and took a notebook and pen from her purse. “Felicity, is this reassignment really because you’re a target of Boyd Sullivan?”
“Hey,” Ethan objected. “Didn’t we just establish we’re not discussing him?”
Heidi’s eyebrows drew together, but she didn’t acknowledge Ethan’s words. “What qualifications do you have to be base photographer? Formal training?”
“I’ve taken some photography classes,” Felicity replied.
Heidi made a note. “Won any awards? Had your work displayed in a gallery?”
Felicity shook her head and a red flush crept into her cheeks. “No.”
Sensing how uncomfortable Felicity was, Westley said, “Enough with the questions. Lieutenant General Hall feels she’s a good fit for the job. That’s all that matters.”
Heidi hitched the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder over her standard blue short-sleeve service shirt. “And I’m trying to do my job.”
Felicity put a hand on his arm. “It’s all right.” To Heidi she said, “I’ll be photographing the BMT graduates and their families Thursday. You might want to come and see how it goes.”
There was gratitude in Heidi’s smile. “I will. Thank you.” She glanced around the table. “Are you all going to the memorial service tonight at the Canyon Christian Church? I understand Pastor Harmon will be doing a special tribute to the victims.”
Westley’s gut clenched. Felicity’s fingers tightened on his arm. He could feel the tremor traveling through her. He covered her hand, offering what little comfort he could.
“Yes,” Felicity said. “We’re going.”
Ethan and Linc nodded also.
“Then I will see you there.” Heidi pivoted on her black flats and wove her way out of the restaurant.
“How did she know you were here?” Ethan asked Felicity.
Felicity shrugged. “I guess the base grapevine is alive and well.”
Westley signaled to the waitress they were ready for their check.
After paying their bill, Westley and Felicity left the restaurant.
“I’d like to go home and freshen up before the service tonight,” Felicity said as she put her car in Reverse.
“Of course,” he said. “Let’s stop by the training center so I can do the same. Then we’ll go to your place.”
She pursed her lips. “You really aren’t going to let me out of your sight, are you?”
“Not if I can help it.” He was tasked with keeping her safe. More like he’d demanded the detail, but he didn’t need to explain that tidbit to her.
* * *
The Canyon Christian Church pews were filled as Felicity, with Westley at her side, filed into the large sanctuary. Everyone was standing, with arms around each other, as they sang “Amazing Grace.”
Memories of her father’s memorial service played through Felicity’s mind. She’d sat in the front row with her mother at her side. They’d held on to each other in their grief while Pastor Harmon had spoken about her father’s years of service and dedication to his country and his family. Felicity’s heart had broken over the senseless accident.
But it wasn’t an accident. He’d been murdered.
Acid burned through her chest. She placed her hand over her heart, feeling the outline of the key beneath her dress uniform.
“This way,” Westley whispered in her ear, drawing her back to the present.
He guided her to a pew on the right, where an airman shuffled over to make room for them. Westley stepped aside so she could move past him. She couldn’t stop herself from giving him an appreciative glance. He wore his dress uniform well.
The navy jacket fit his broad shoulders and tapered down to his trim waist. She thought him handsome in his battle-ready uniform and in civilian clothes, but in the dress blues, he was hotter than the Texas sun in July.
She gave herself a mental head slap as she stood next to her friend Rae Fallon, a rookie fighter pilot. Rae smiled at her with sad eyes and put her arm through Felicity’s.
Emotion welled within Felicity as Westley placed his arm around her waist. His compassion and willingness to comfort her in public sent surprise cascading over her, warming her from the inside out. But then the rational side of her brain kicked in. Everyone had an arm around the person next to them. He was simply following suit. She wouldn’t read more in to it. Instead she focused on how good it was to be a part of something so much bigger than herself. And seeing the camaraderie among her fellow servicemen and -women gave her comfort.
When the music ended, everyone sat and Pastor Harmon approached the podium. On the big screens behind him, four images appeared—Airman Landon Martelli, Airman Tamara Peterson, Airman Stephen Bulter and basic military training commander Chief Master Sergeant Clint Lockwood.
Tears sprang to Felicity’s eyes. Her heart hurt for the loss of the fellow MWD K-9 trainers, the commissary cook and the father of her friend Maisy.
After Pastor Harmon’s touching eulogy for the murdered air-force personnel, Felicity and Westley left the church with the crowd.
“We’ll head back to the training center to grab Dakota before going to your house,” Westley told her.
She nodded. Her spirit felt heavy with the weight of grief and anger. Why had Boyd come back to the base to kill? Why hadn’t he just disappeared once he escaped prison? She could only imagine how warped his mind was to make him risk returning to Canyon to spread his evil.
“Westley,” Captain Justin Blackwood called from the sidewalk, where he stood with his sixteen-year-old daughter, Portia, who’d only a year ago come to live with Justin after her mother died.
Felicity and Westley veered off their path and stopped by Justin. “Sir,” Westley said with a salute. Felicity followed suit.
Justin returned their greeting with his own salute. Felicity had to press her lips together to stop a smile when she noticed Portia roll her eyes and duck her head to stare at her phone.
Felicity remembered what it was like to be the daughter of an officer in the United States Air Force. All the protocols, the pomp and circumstance, that to a young girl seemed over-the-top. But Felicity had grown to appreciate the steady nature of the military. She hoped one day Portia would as well.
“How are we with the dog situation?” Justin asked.
“Rounding up more every hour, sir,” Westley replied.
“Good.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Now if we could only find Boyd Sullivan. We found out how he got on base.”
“We heard,” Westley said. “But once on base, someone had to have hid him. Do we know who yet?”
“Unfortunately,
