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, no. But we’re still combing through the personnel, looking for anything that might point to his accomplice.”
“Did someone talk to his half sister?” Felicity asked.
“She’s been questioned. She admitted to visiting her brother in prison but denies helping him in any way. Do you know her?”
“We’ve met briefly, but no, I don’t know her,” Felicity replied. Even though the base could feel small and isolated at times, there were too many people on base to become friends with everyone.
Justin nodded, his gaze going to something over her shoulder. She turned to see Heidi standing close by. Boy, she never gave up.
Felicity turned back toward the captain and noticed the other base reporter, John Robinson, lurking by the lamppost, obviously trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. They clearly had a tag team going. She nudged Westley and directed his attention to John.
Westley shook his head. “Vultures. Sir, we should table any more discussion until the meeting tomorrow.”
“Agreed. Good night. Be careful,” Justin said before turning away and ushering his daughter to the parking lot.
Because the church was only a few blocks from the training center, they had parked there and, walked over. Now twilight had slipped to night. A million stars twinkled in the sky and the moon rose in a crescent over the base. In some ways so ordinary. A typical night in Texas. However, today had been anything but ordinary.
Four people were dead.
A killer was on the loose.
And she’d learned her father’s death had been murder.
Tension coiled through her as she walked. Her pace picked up.
“Eager to get home?” Westley murmured as he matched her stride.
“Eager to put this day behind me,” she replied.
He snorted his agreement and slipped a warm hand around her elbow. It was a gentlemanly gesture. Protective. Possessive.
Her heart fluttered.
In a panic, her gaze leaped to the stop sign ahead as if her brain was sending her a warning.
Don’t go any further with that train of thought.
Letting herself believe his actions had any deeper meaning beyond protecting her from Boyd Sullivan was foolish.
The crowd from the church thinned the farther away they walked from the building. They passed the dentist offices and rec center. The veterinarian clinic’s lights were on and Felicity waved to the receptionist in the window. As they crossed the parking lot for the vet clinic, the sound of an engine turning over marred the quiet night. Odd. The streetlamp that normally kept the lot lit up at night was dark.
“Hurry,” Westley said.
Sensing his tension, she quickened her pace even more. Tires squealed as a car shot forward. Felicity caught a glimpse of a chrome grill before Westley’s arm snaked around her waist and he lifted her off the ground.
With her wrapped in his arms, he dove out of the way seconds before the vehicle roared past, barely missing them. They landed hard on the pavement, Westley taking the brunt of the fall, Felicity landing on top of him. For a long, silent moment neither moved.
Heart in her throat, she said,