by Dana Mentink
* * *
Was Sullivan making his move already? Kendra fought the bucking steering wheel after the last shot had taken out the front tire. Then again, she had another enemy hot on her trail. She didn’t know that Andy was a good enough shot to take out a tire, but he was skilled at many other means of inflicting pain. Whether it was Sullivan or Andy didn’t really matter at the moment. She battled for control of her vehicle, but there was no time. The car bumped and jolted, skidding sideways toward the trees. “Hold on, Baby,” she shouted to the elderly cat tucked in his back seat carrier. Her words were lost in the jolt of the chassis as it smacked against the rocky ground. Thick tree trunks flashed past the windows as the car flew down the slope, gravity overwhelming the brakes. The front fender slammed into a pile of rocks so hard it snapped her neck back and drove the breath out of her. For several seconds all she could do was cling to the steering wheel, wondering why the airbag hadn’t deployed.
“Baby?” she finally croaked. “Are you okay?”
With a painful effort, she unbuckled her seat belt, grabbed her Glock and turned to peer over the headrest into the back seat. Her heart pounded at what she might find in the cat carrier.
Please, God, don’t let Baby be dead. I know I don’t deserve to ask You for anything, not one thing, but I’m asking anyway. The silence from the rear of the car galvanized her into action.
Shoving an elbow at the door, she forced it open, tumbling to her knees on the rocky ground. Pain in her ribs made her gasp but she pulled herself up and grabbed the rear door handle.
The crunch of footsteps made her draw back.
Sullivan or Andy?
Andy’s last voice mail message echoed in her ears. When I finally catch up to you, I am going to enjoy killing you slowly.
She gritted her teeth. If he was going to kill her today, she’d make sure it would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
The sounds drew nearer. Her mind sought options. Flag someone down? Ethan had been behind her for a while, she’d noticed, but she’d lost sight of him a few miles back. Incredibly, she heard no traffic at all on this back road out of the Baylor Marine Corps Base. She reached for her cell phone when she heard a whispered voice.
“Kendra?”
The voice didn’t belong to Andy, that was certain. This voice was a low baritone, complete with a Tennessee drawl. Ethan. She let out a slow breath.
“I’m coming over to you,” he continued, “so don’t do anything crazy like shoot me.”
She kept silent, gripping the Glock and training the gun toward the direction of the shots. Ethan rounded the corner with a dog at his side. The pointer immediately stiffened, ears erect.
“I don’t like dogs,” she snapped.
“That’s okay. He probably doesn’t like you, either. Cops and marines should be on their way.”
“What are you doing here?” She shot a look at the animal still in alert position. A patrol or scout dog, she suspected.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe we can do the pleasantries later? After the cavalry arrives?”
She would have retorted, but a shot whistled through the air and they hunkered low for cover.
“Sullivan doesn’t usually do his dirty work in public,” he said over his shoulder, peering in the direction of the shooter. “Anyone else you know who might shooting at you?”
“Could be anyone,” she said, earning another exasperated look.
“You can play innocent with me, but I don’t think the marines are gonna be as warm and fuzzy.”
“If you think you’re warm and fuzzy,” she said, yanking the back door handle, “then you’re pretty clueless.”
He put out a hand to stop her. “Leave it. We have to move. Shooter is going to change locations to get a better bead now that we’re pinned down.”
She ignored him, pulling harder on the door, which opened with a reluctant groan.
He grabbed her forearm. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Hearing and listening are two different things.”
A shot drilled the rear window, sending glass rocketing in all directions. They both ducked.
“You’re really stubborn,” he said, but she was already lugging the animal carrier out of the car, and he reached in to help.
Another shot pinged the metal car roof, sending off sparks.
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm and propelling her toward the shrubbery.
It was all she could do to hold on to the carrier.
“I thought MPs were supposed to stand their ground,” she huffed.
“We do, but this isn’t my ground and I happen to be saddled with an irrational civilian.”
So much for warm and fuzzy.
He pushed her ahead of him, and he and the dog took up position right behind her as another volley of shots bored into the tree just above their heads.
TWO
Ethan put as many sturdy tree trunks between them and the shooter as he could. His mind churned faster than his feet. Had Sullivan finally snapped and changed his tactics to include daylight ambushes? It was possible. Sullivan wasn’t much of a shot, he happened to know, and this gunman was all over the place. Two more bullets whistled by, the last a wild one that lost itself in the tree branches. Sirens were converging from all directions. The marines would be responding, and the local police. With that many guns and that much adrenaline pumping, he figured their safest option was to stay still, very still. He put Titus into a sit.
“Stay put,” he told the woman. “Marines are here.”
The Jillian look-alike stood with her back to a tree, her arms curled around the animal carrier. Now that he got a close look without a couple of feet between them, he could see that her mouth was fuller than Jillian’s, the hair more auburn than copper, the spray of freckles more subtle, but still...uncanny.
“Still staring?” she demanded.
He flushed. “How do you know Jillian?”
A flash of emotion crossed her face, indicating that whatever her connection was to Jillian, it was a strong one. Then the expression disappeared and she shrugged. “Friends.”
His instincts went berserk, as if he was inches from stepping into a trip wire, but he had to know. “You’re a pretty good friend to paint a target on your back.”
She flashed a smile this time as she pointed to several armed marines scurrying down the slope, geared up for battle. “I think that conversation is going to have to wait.”
She was right. The marines were in no mood for chatting. Once they ascertained that Kendra and Ethan were not the bad guys, they searched the area until the police arrived, finding no sign of the shooter.
One marine approached them. “Hey, Airman. Heard you slammed the door on Colonel Masters an hour ago.”
Ethan grinned at the marine police captain, friends from the time their deployments overlapped. “News travels fast, Hector.”
MP Marine Captain Hector Sanchez squashed his smile and regarded the woman next to him intently. “Your name, ma’am?”
“Kendra. I had a meeting on base with Lieutenant Colonel Terence Masters.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Pertaining to?”
“Ask him, if you want to know.”
“Due respect, ma’am, but we’re not in the mood for coy around here.”
Ethan wasn’t, either. He was in the mood for a little rest and recuperation before he threw himself back into the Red Rose Killer investigation. Now that he was working for Masters, the situation was changing from bad to atrocious. The good news was Kendra would have to come to her senses now and tell Masters she was quitting.
Hector greeted the arriving police officer and they launched into an intense conversation. The US Marines did not like having to relinquish any authority to the local cops, but the shooting was not technically on base property. The cop, whose name tag read A
lonso Carpenter, drew Ethan and Kendra aside. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Ethan, with a narrow chin and skin tanned from the sun.
“We need to have a talk back at the station with you both, to document all the details,” he said.
“It this really necessary?” Kendra’s arms were still wrapped around the carrier as if she was holding on to a life preserver. “I’m sure Colonel Masters—”
“Masters,” Carpenter said, with a certain something in his voice, “is not the boss on this side of the fence.”
Ethan caught the grin on Hector’s face. He realized he was sporting the same smug smile on his own. Masters always got what he wanted one way or another by whatever means necessary. It was nice to know the local police did not jump when he snapped his fingers.
He wanted nothing more than to head back to his apartment at Canyon Air Force Base and forget the whole nutty plan, but perhaps Masters’s scheme would actually draw Boyd out. It was possible the shooting had been Sullivan’s work. But something still didn’t feel right. Sullivan was not the type to take shots from the bushes. His killings were up close and personal. Ethan’s stomach tensed thinking of how Sullivan had snuffed out the life of his friend Landon Martelli. Landon hadn’t even had a chance to defend himself.
If it wasn’t Sullivan, then who else might want Kendra dead and why? He shook away the thought. Not your problem, Webb. He wasn’t going to work with Kendra Bell only to see her become another victim of Sullivan’s, and he intended to force her to see reality one way or another. The best thing for her would be to get away from this part of Texas, and especially from Masters.
Kendra walked by him and slid into a waiting police car. She did not flash him a glance, just bent her head and cooed to the bony white cat she’d removed from the carrier.
He could see that her profile wasn’t exactly a match for Jillian’s; her nose was smaller, the cheeks softer and there was more delicacy about this woman than his ex-wife. Her hair looked soft, as if it would be silky under his fingertips.
He brought those thoughts sharply to heel, calling to Titus, who had been nosing along at the tufts of grass. A moment later the cat caught sight of Titus and mewed in fright.
Startled, Titus barked loud enough to make Ethan’s ears ring. The cat erupted from Kendra’s arms and streaked away into the woods.
“Baby,” Kendra screamed, leaping from the car. She fired an angry look at Ethan. “Can’t you control your brute of a dog?” she said before she ran away in search of the cat.
“What?” he said dumbly to her back.
“She said, ‘Can’t you control your brute of a dog?’” Officer Carpenter said and Ethan detected a look of enjoyment in the man’s eyes.
Ethan huffed out a breath and shot a glare at Titus. The dog blinked and looked away as if to say, “Sorry, but it was a cat, after all.” Then he noticed the officer was heading into the shrubbery.
“Aren’t you taking her to the station?” Ethan called.
Carpenter chuckled. “Son, I’ve been married twice and I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two. I think I can safely say that Ms. Bell isn’t going anywhere without that cat.”
“Does that mean I can go and you’ll call me when you’re ready to talk to me?”
Carpenter raised an eyebrow. “No, that means you and Wonder Dog are going to comb every inch of this property until you locate the cat, Airman.” He turned his back and left Ethan and Titus standing there.
Ethan turned to his dog. “This is your fault, you know.”
Titus licked Ethan’s hand.
“Don’t try to act all cute now. Get into those bushes and find the cat you just bullied.”
Titus put his nose to the ground and got to work.
* * *
Kendra’s cheek was scratched from a low-lying branch and her feet were aching since she was wearing ballet flats instead of hiking boots. It didn’t hold a candle to the pain inside her. Baby was gone. The sun was low in the sky and there was still no sign of the old cat.
The cop had trudged back to the car after she’d promised to follow in five more minutes. With each second her breathing grew more panicky, sweat making her palms clammy. Ethan and Titus continued to prowl through the bushes, but even the dog could not seem to catch a scent of Baby.
Ethan clumped out of the bushes, wiping sweat from his brow, and faced her. “Uh, I’m sorry your cat ran away,” he said, not exactly looking her in the eye.
She rounded on him. “She didn’t run away. Your dog scared her.”
Now he turned eyes the color of melted chocolate in her direction. “Look, I’m really sorry, okay? I’ll keep searching, or maybe I can get you another cat.”
“Another cat?” she snapped, fury taking her breath away. “And if Titus there got lost, you’d just give up on him and get another dog?”
“No way, but Titus is a dog. I mean, uh, what I meant was, you know, cats can take care of themselves.”
She stared at him, tears pricking her eyes. “For your information, Baby can’t. She’s sixteen and she’s in poor health. She’s been the only one...” She swallowed hard. There was no way she was going to unload all of her big fat messed-up life at the feet of this insensitive blockhead. “Never mind.” She stalked past him, but he grasped her arm, his fingers strong but gentle.
“Hey, wait. I’m sorry. I was being a jerk. I’ve only been back a couple of months and I think I’m rusty at some things. I know the cat means a lot to you.” His gaze was soft, or maybe it was a trick of the failing sunlight. Either way, she couldn’t answer over the thick lump in her throat.
“I...” He sighed and shook his head, letting her go. “I lost a dog before Titus to a grenade. It hurts, no matter how you lose them. I, um, I’ll keep looking. Give me your cell phone number and I’ll text you if...I mean, when I find her, okay?”
Still unsure of her powers of speech, Kendra managed to give Ethan her cell number and programmed his into her phone.
“Ms. Bell?” Officer Carpenter called. “It’s time to go.”
She raised her chin and blinked hard, fighting for composure as she allowed the cop to usher her into his car.
Sitting next to the empty carrier, she was overwhelmed by the thoughts that she’d been blotting out the last few hours. Someone—maybe Andy, maybe the Red Rose Killer, maybe none of the above—had tried to kill her. That was not a new experience for a private investigator and a former bounty hunter, but this person had gotten very close to getting the job done. Muscles deep in her belly began to quiver.
And now Baby, the only creature in the world whom she loved and who loved her back, was gone, lost in the woods, an old cat, easy prey. She squeezed her hands together to stop the shaking.
You’ll find her, she told herself savagely. Right after the police interview you’ll come back and you’ll find her. Baby had chosen somewhere to hide, that was all.
Lord, she prayed, bring Baby back and help us both find a place like that.
As they drove through the shadows, her newfound faith was not enough to screen out the memory of the bullets fracturing the windshield, boring into the trees.
She was just like the cat. Easy prey.
THREE
After hours of fruitless searching Ethan made it back to Canyon Air Force Base. He’d done his best, but there was simply no sign of the cat. Titus was ready for a cold drink of water and some grub and so was he. Maybe in the morning...
As he unloaded Titus from the truck, they both caught the sound of whimpering coming from the bushes in his front yard. Titus dashed toward the foliage, tail wagging. Ethan followed, getting down on his knees as the soft cries turned into full-blown yips.
Titus was nose to nose with a gangly puppy, a Malinois with pointy ears and a dark muzzle. The ears were erect and the tongue was out, busily bathing Titus.
“Hey, fella,
” Ethan said. “How did you get here?” He was close enough now to see that the puppy was wearing a filthy training center collar.
Ethan’s throat constricted. It was one of the animals that had been let loose by Boyd Sullivan when he killed the two K-9 trainers and left his signature red rose calling card. With Titus’s encouragement, he coaxed the dog to come out. It didn’t take much, as the poor critter was clearly weak and terrified. The pup was skinny, his ribs protruding. He smelled of garbage, which was where he’d probably been scrounging for food to stay alive for so long. Ethan noted a long gash in the dog’s side. His anger at Sullivan kindled fresh and hot. How could a guy who’d once wanted to become a K-9 trainer let hundreds of dogs loose to be injured or worse? But Sullivan’s twisted sense of revenge didn’t stop there. He’d killed a commissary cook a few miles from base, and some of those in his basic training flight group had received roses and threats...including Jillian.
Ethan poured some water from a bottle into his cupped palm and the dog lapped at it eagerly while Titus gave him a thorough sniffing. Wrapping the pup in his jacket, Ethan ignored the growling in his stomach and loaded both dogs into the truck.
In twenty minutes he was pulling up to the K-9 training center. He’d called Master Sergeant Westley James and his new wife, base photographer Staff Sergeant Felicity James, on the way. At the entrance to the training yard, Westley waited, a head taller than the petite Felicity, his face grave.
“Another one found,” Felicity said, cooing to the puppy. “He’s skin and bones. I’ll get him to the clinic.”
Westley shook his head. “If I could just get a lead on Sullivan...”
“You and everyone else,” Ethan said. “We’re all hoping to be the one that brings him down.”
“And his accomplice,” Felicity added. “He isn’t doing all these things without help.”
Someone was helping Sullivan certainly, but the list of suspects shifted constantly, and the team assembled to track down the killer was growing more and more frustrated.
