by Angela Kay
Shannon frowned but didn’t respond.
“Have you ever been to Phinizy Swamp, Shannon?” Shaun wondered.
She shook her head. “No, sir. I don’t know if Aunt Steph had.”
“That’s okay, we’re not looking at the location as the connection between your aunt and the others.”
“Then what are you looking for?” Leanne wondered.
“Shannon, you told the officers the other day you and your aunt were on a scavenger hunt. Is that correct?”
Shannon nodded. “We loved playing games together. When Aunt Steph found out about the scavenger hunt, she asked if I wanted to help her find the clues.”
“How did your aunt come across this game?” Aidan asked.
“She got an email,” Shannon answered. “It was a no reply email because when she responded the first time for more information, it got bounced back. Then she got another email saying the slot was almost filled up. She called me and I thought it would be cool. She signed up and later another email with a riddle to solve came. We started going around town, finding prizes and more riddles. We got like four of them.” Shannon frowned, then widened her eyes. “Wait. I remember something.”
“You do?” Leanne said with surprise. She leaned forward in her chair with interest. “What is it, honey?”
“Aunt Steph texted me late Thursday night. She said she solved the third riddle, and received a picture of the woods behind her house, and another riddle to solve.”
“She didn’t think it strange?” Shaun asked. “That someone took a picture of the woods where she lived?”
“People are walking through there all the time,” Leanne explained. “Mostly children playing. It doesn’t belong to anyone.”
Shannon nodded. “She thought it was a coincidence. We were having fun and didn’t think about it.”
“How does it work? The riddle and finding the prize?”
“You send an email with what the answer is. If you’re right, you get a map of where to find the next riddle.”
“Do you still have the riddle by chance?” Aidan asked.
“Yes, it’s on my phone. I have to go get it upstairs.” Shannon jumped to her feet and stormed upstairs, a second later returning with her backpack. She pulled out her iPhone and unlocked it with her index finger. “Okay, the riddle is: ‘nearly sixty-five percent of the world sees straight through me. You could use me too and all my transparency.’”
“Glasses,” Aidan replied after a moment of silence.
Shannon nodded. “Aunt Steph was looking through the woods for a pair of glasses.”
Aidan exchanged glances with Shaun.
Scavenger hunts.
Riddles.
Maps.
“He likes to play games himself,” Aidan said to Shaun. “He wants to tease his victims. He enjoys watching them get excited when they’ve found the prize. How does he decide, though, when he’s done?”
It was then, the puzzle started to make sense. Aidan’s eyes widened and he looked at Shannon, who watched him in wonder.
“What are you thinking?” Shaun asked.
“That’s it!” Aidan exclaimed. It had been staring at him all along.
“What?” Leanne urged. “Do you know something?”
“Shaun, when we were at Phinizy Swamp, what did the ranger say she was watching out for? What did Ray Parson’s mother keep calling about?”
Shaun shook his head at first, then snapped his fingers. “Glasses! Ray Parson’s glasses were missing.”
“Right,” Aidan said. “If our killer is sending his victims on scavenger hunts, and his victims are hunting for items belonging to another victim, then it’s possible they took something from Stephanie.”
“Like what?” Leanne wondered.
“When I saw your sister’s…on Friday, I noticed on her left hand, she had a tan line, but no ring.”
“She had an emerald engagement ring,” Shannon said. “When I went to identify her body, I asked about the ring, but they told me she wasn’t wearing one. But I know she never took it off. Ever.”
“It wasn’t on her person,” Aidan told her. “But I’d like to check the evidence files to be sure we’re following the right track. To make sure someone didn’t take it off and file it. I also want to look again in Stephanie’s house to see if maybe there’s a slight chance she did leave the ring.”
Shaun nodded as he rose. “Let’s go.”
15
AFTER CHECKING THE evidence log for the emerald ring, Aidan and Shaun, with the assistance of Agents Douglas and Harrelson, along with a few loaners from Lieutenant Christensen, tore through every inch of Stephanie Carpenter’s home.
After looking through her jewelry box for the third time to ensure he didn’t overlook it, Aidan pushed out a heavy breath and pressed his palm against the surface of the dresser.
Was he right in his thinking?
But just being on the right track in knowing how the offender was operating didn’t put him any closer to finding him. It didn’t even help him in finding out who the next victim might be.
If only he could connect the two cases, then maybe…just maybe…
“The men didn’t find anything,” Shaun announced, reentering Stephanie’s bedroom. “I have them searching the woods in case it’s lost there.”
Aidan shook his head as he turned to Shaun on a heavy sigh. “They won’t find anything. The ring is not only his token but the riddle’s answer. My guess is our offender’s on the hunt for another victim. Or he already found his victim.”
“And we just haven’t found the bodies yet.” Shaun shook his head.
“Yeah.”
“Stephanie’s a teacher and Ray’s a student,” Shaun mused. “Maybe there’s something in that. But they’re located in different areas.”
“Ray was only seventeen years old, hasn’t been in serious trouble,” Aidan added. “And Stephanie has never had so much as a parking ticket. We’ve already talked to her student’s parents, and she’s popular. I heard on the news they’re going to hold a vigil tonight at the preschool.”
“We can show up,” Shaun said. “See if anyone looks out of place.”
Aidan nodded in agreement. It wasn’t unusual for a killer to look among the crowd of his victims loved ones, or even when statements are made to the public by law enforcement. It gave them power over their lives. They relish in the thought that they were in control of their victims’ destinies—and the community’s fear.
“The only similarity is the scavenger hunt,” Shaun continued. “They both received mysterious emails inviting them to play. What’s the significance? Is he some whack job who simply loves games, but never participating? I wonder what would happen if they had chosen not to participate?”
“I think it’s something more. If he enjoys the hunt, he’d let them know he’s hunting them. Serials get off from the thrill of the kill. They enjoy the rush they get when their victims show fear. The offender never said he’s targeting them. He’s looking for something. Answers? Maybe. Someone who he feels wronged him? Could be.” Aidan paused a beat. “He’s turned this into a sporting event that he can enjoy. They’re playing on his chessboard. They’re his pawns…he’s moving them around the board. Then he kills them. No suffering. No tears. Just shoots them from a distance.”
“So, he’s a coward. He wants to kill, but he doesn’t have the guts to look into his victim’s eyes.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
Aidan sucked in a deep breath, then pushed it out as he looked around the bedroom. Somewhere out there, another victim was being targeted. Somewhere, another unsuspecting player of a scavenger hunt is about to lose their life. The hairs on the back of his neck seemed to rise.
“I want to dig deeper through every part of Stephanie’s life,” Aidan said finally. “I want to know her credit score, I want to know if she missed a single payment on her credit card, has she ever been married before and she kept it a secret? What stores did she most frequ
ent? And I want to know about Ray and his friends as well. They’re kids, so they likely won’t have anything major, but if there’s anything at all that’s suspicious, I want to know. And let’s not stop there. I want to know about their families. Fathers, mothers, aunts, uncle, their friends…I want any dirt we can find on these people, anything that can either connect our vics or make them a target…I want it all laid out on the table. No stone unturned.”
“You got it,” Shaun said, snatching his phone from its holder. “I’ll call it in right now.” Shaun relayed the request into the phone, then ended the call. “We should also go to the morgue and compare autopsy reports.”
Aidan nodded. “I agree.”
Aidan fell into silence for a few minutes, allowing his mind to steer in a different direction before eyeing Shaun with curiosity.
“When was the last time you saw Jordan Blake?”
“Before now? Not since The Carnations Killer investigation. He wrote that ridiculous bestselling book.”
Aidan scoffed. “Don’t remind me. I feel like buying a copy just to have the pleasure of burning it.”
“But then he seemed to disappear from reporting any kind of news, though I can’t really blame him.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Aidan muttered as he began to walk out of the room.
“Of course, I don’t see Jordan ever mellowing out,” Shaun continued. “If anything, he’s as cocky and annoying as ever. He loves his job and has an uncanny way of getting smack dab in the middle of a very tangled web.”
“Yes, he does,” Aidan agreed.
“I think we should have a chat with him.”
Aidan’s lips curved into a smile. “You read my mind.”
16
“Joooordaaaan Blake,” Shaun drew out the name as he and Aidan entered the news reporter’s office at WJFX. “My, my, haven’t seen you around much, these days.”
Jordan switched off his computer monitor and turned around in his chair with an eye roll and a sigh. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
They had been to Jordan’s office only once before during their investigation into The Carnations Killer. Although at the time, both Aidan and Shaun agreed Jordan Blake was not a likely suspect, the arrogant reporter did remain under scrutiny for some time.
Aidan looked around, noticing cards and letters lying carelessly about, all seeming to have been written by admirers of his. Aidan’s eyes landed on a book nestled between All the President’s Men and Awake in the Dark in the bookshelf behind Jordan’s desk. He removed the book to see a large carnation dripped in blood on the cover. In a jagged white font plastered over the flower read: How I Caught the Carnations Killer: The Jordan Blake Story.
“Nice—.”
Jordan jumped up, snatching the book from Aidan’s hands and set it on his desk with a thud.
“—Office,” Aidan finished.
“You guys going to tell me what you’re doing here?” Jordan crossed his arms over his chest.
“Like I said before, we haven’t seen you pop up anywhere much lately,” Shaun said, slipping a large arm around Jordan’s shoulder. “I mean after everything we’ve been through together. And you didn’t even send us a card letting us know? Then when we saw you at Phinizy Swamp, we got to thinking, ‘how is our good buddy Jordan? We should pay him a visit.’”
“And now, here we are,” Aidan added, with a smile as he cut his hand through the air in a voila motion.
“I haven’t done anything,” Jordan protested. “I hadn’t done anything then, and I haven’t now.”
“Didn’t say you did,” Aidan told him. “However, we would like to know why after almost six months in the wind, you decided to appear at the scene of a murder, then at the home of another victim’s sister?”
“I’m a reporter,” Jordan said with a smirk. He unwound himself from Shaun’s bulky arm and dropped into his computer chair, leaning back, interlacing his fingers. “It’s my job to report the news.”
“What have you been doing with yourself?” Shaun asked. “I mean besides writing a three-hundred-page book on how you…caught…the Carnations Killer.”
Jordan continued to stare between them until he pushed out a heavy breath.
“After I got out of the hospital, my uncle sent me on an extended leave of absence.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Said I needed to rejuvenate. Can you believe that? He actually used that word.”
“When did you get back?” Aidan asked.
Jordan repositioned his arms and again crossed them over his chest. “Why are you interrogating me? I told you I didn’t do anything wrong. You won’t be happy until you lock me up for good, will you, O’Reilly?”
“I have no desire to see you in jail,” Aidan replied. “I feel, though, I should look out for you. You know…make sure you don’t get yourself into more trouble.”
Jordan chuckled. “I can handle myself just fine, thank you.”
“Yeah, you proved that when you were hanging on the wall after Grant Rivers captured you.”
Jordan remained silent for a brief second.
“Okay, look. I admit we didn’t get off on the best foot. But I got my job and you got yours.”
“Your job is to report the news, Jordan,” Aidan reminded him, “Not go after a man who had murdered over eighty women over the last decade so you can be the news.”
“How sweet,” Jordan smirked. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”
“I don’t,” Aidan shot back. “Just don’t expect me to be there to save you every time your obduracy puts you in the path of the grim reaper.”
“‘Obduracy,’” Jordan echoed with a scoff. “Such big words for such a small man.”
Aidan stepped forward, ready to grab the reporter’s neck when Shaun stepped between them.
“Answer the question. When did you get back to town?”
“I got back last month,” Jordan replied. “I’ve been waiting for something to strike my interest, and finally, it did.”
“I see,” Shaun said. He looked at Aidan, still holding on to his arm. After Aidan acknowledged with a nod that he was calm, Shaun released him. “You know, I do understand his interest as a reporter to look into a couple of murders. But what I don’t understand is why he’s popping up where we’re going just moments before we get there. And I definitely don’t understand how he’s gotten inside information, something we did not release to the press.”
Aidan snapped his fingers. “That’s a very good point, Shaun. I’m glad you brought it up. Want to clarify that for us?”
“Ever hear of the shield law?” Jordan responded with a smirk. “You can’t force me to reveal my sources.”
“I think when he was captured by Grant Rivers, our buddy here was beaten in the head one too many times. His sense of brilliance has been knocked out,” Aidan said, glaring at his nemesis.
A flash of repentance clouded Jordan’s face and was gone in the same instance. He rose and stood nose to nose with Aidan.
“Spare me your monologue, O’Reilly,” Jordan growled. “Should I remind you I found out who killed those women before you did? Who kidnapped and beat your girlfriend to a bloody pulp before you did?”
Aidan grabbed Jordan by the neck and pushed him against the bookcase. Several items toppled to the floor on impact. He squeezed his hand as Shaun grabbed Aidan’s arm, attempting to pry him off.
“Do not ever mention her again,” Aidan hissed through his teeth, his nose inches from Jordan’s.
“We’re done here,” Shaun insisted, jerking Aidan away from Jordan.
The reporter leaned over, gasping for air, tugging at his shirt as if it continued to strangle him.
“Stay out of trouble,” Shaun warned. “Do not interfere with our investigation. It’ll give me immense pleasure to lock you up.”
“You better keep your dog on a leash, Henderson,” Jordan forced out.
Shaun said nothing more as he dragged Aidan from the building.
“You okay?” Shaun as
ked him when they made it to the car.
“I’m fine,” Aidan answered through his teeth.
“Good. Don’t do that again. You think for a second, he’s going to let that slide? Monroe won’t take kindly to her newest agent butting heads with anyone, especially with Jordan Blake. Monroe aside, he’s just not worth the energy.”
“I know,” Aidan said. “Sorry. It’s just that when he mentioned Cheyenne…”
“Hey. I get it. But you know he’s only trying to get underneath your skin. He enjoys knowing which button of yours to push.”
“Right. You going to note what happened to Monroe?” Aidan wondered as they climbed into the car. He ran his fingers through his hair.
Shaun narrowed his eyes with confusion and looked sidelong at Aidan. “Note what?”
Aidan smiled inwardly. “Thanks, Shaun.”
“I got you, buddy. Why don’t we pay a visit to Leon Quick’s hospital room and see how he’s doing?”
17
LEON QUICK WAS still in an induced coma, but the doctors said the swelling in his brain had gone down dramatically since he’d first arrive. They wouldn’t know until he woke up the full extent of his injury, so it could be some time before Leon would be up for questioning.
In the meantime, Aidan and Shaun stood outside the hospital room with Leon Quick’s father. His wife stayed with her son, sleeping in a chair.
The father stretched close to five inches taller than Aidan’s six feet two with stark black hair and matching beard, his hazelnut eyes looking worried. He stared through the glass at his family until finally, he closed his eyes, turning away.
“I worry about my wife. If Leon, for some reason, doesn’t pull through as the doctor promised, I don’t know how she’ll manage. He’s her entire world. They give her soft assurance, but doctors are wrong all the time.”
“I understand,” Shaun said. “I’m very sorry about your son.”
“He’s not my son,” he muttered, then looked sidelong at Shaun. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean the way it sounded. “I love the kid as if he were my own, but I’m actually his stepfather. I married his mother a year and a half ago. My name’s Dean Thompson. Although Leon never knew his biological father, he kept his last name.”
