nodded. “He’ll be comfortable in his kennel. And it will keep him from popping a stitch.”
Westley headed toward the door that would take them through the back of the center. They entered the kennel room and a barrage of barking ensued. Most of the crates were filled with dogs. The empty ones made her stomach knot. There were still many dogs missing.
She quickly commanded, “Quiet” and the dogs in their kennels obeyed. She was sad to see Riff’s crate still empty. She hoped the young Belgian Malinois would be found unharmed.
“You and I will stay here with Dakota,” Westley said as he placed the dog gently into a crate and shut the door. “I think it would be safer for all of us.”
“I agree,” she said, hating to think the intruder might return to her house.
“There’s a room here with a cot. We’ll take shifts sleeping.”
Not the most comfortable situation. But better than the alternative.
“Tomorrow we can figure out new housing,” Westley said.
“We can take my uncle up on his offer to stay with him.”
“That’s one idea,” Westley replied.
She chose to let his noncommittal answer go. “Obviously the guy hasn’t found what he was looking for.” She fingered the key beneath her uniform. “We need to find the motorcycle the key belongs to. Then we’ll find my father’s killer.”
He brushed a stray strand of hair off her cheek, causing a shiver to trip over her skin. She had to look frightful. Just as he did with his uniform smeared with blood. Yet he looked at her like he approved of what he saw. “First things first. Your safety is my priority.”
She’d never been anyone’s priority. Her mother had been too busy with her law practice and her father too dedicated to the OSI. She’d always felt like an afterthought, unless of course she messed up, then she got their attention. Not the kind of attention she wanted growing up. She liked the idea of being Westley’s priority way more than she probably should.
“Let’s get back to your house and see how the crime-scene techs are doing.” He stepped back. “And you can pack a bag.”
They left the training center after checking in with Caleb Streeter, who promised to look in on Dakota. When they arrived at her house, the crime-scene techs were packing up their things and Special Agent Ian Steffen was on scene.
When he saw Felicity he hurried down the walkway, intercepting them. “I was worried about you two.” He gave them each a once-over. “I take it neither of you has sustained injuries.”
“No, we’re good,” Westley replied.
“We were in the attic when Dakota alerted us to the intruder,” she told him.
Ian’s eyebrows rose. “Did you find anything related to the case your father was working on?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Westley responded.
But Felicity had learned more about Westley and her own feelings, so not a total loss.
“But hopefully the evidence collected will reveal the intruder’s identity,” Ian said. “If it was Boyd then we’ll know for sure he’s still on base.”
Felicity didn’t believe this was the work of the Red Rose Killer. “We think the intruder was looking for this key.” She slipped it from the collar of her uniform.
“Maybe.” Ian frowned.
She didn’t understand why he refused to consider the key as important. “We have it on good authority that this is a specific type of motorcycle key. Possibly the motorcycle used in the hit-and-run.”
That grabbed his attention. “If that is the case, then I should take it for safekeeping.”
“But you’re not officially working her father’s murder,” Westley stated. “Won’t there be questions if you log the key into evidence for a nonexistent case?”
“I can handle that,” Ian said.
“We’ll keep the key,” Westley said flatly.
Did Westley not trust Ian?
“I’ll open an official investigation as soon as I can.” Ian’s tone held a note of defensiveness.
Westley’s hands fisted at his side. “We have to find this guy now. Not later.”
“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
