by Angela Kay
Would he come clean with her?
She doubted it. She needed to find a way to show him she wanted to be a part of him. No, she needed to be a part of him.
Kristen knew her boyfriend would soon be coming home from his business trip. It irked her, and she didn’t find herself looking forward to his impending arrival.
Richard was a good guy. There was no doubt about that.
But Kristen, try as she might, just could not picture spending eternity with him.
Her parents told her when she was growing that she deserved a good guy.
Her friends used to try to set her up with their “good guy” friends.
Her coworkers told her she was a “good guy” kind of woman because she was good herself.
Kristen never got herself into trouble in school, with the law, work, or otherwise.
Because she was a good girl.
Sometimes, though, the idea of dating bad guys was enticing. She figured most good girls dreamed of it, but only a quarter would fulfill that dream.
But, no matter how often they told her she was good, she had always felt something missing. Richard couldn’t fill that void, whatever the void was.
Ever since her father passed away when she was eleven years old, she felt torn from the reality of the good girl life. Kristen couldn’t explain it. She merely went along with it, thinking that was how she was supposed to be. That’s why she dated Richard.
And, here she was, sleeping with a guy who was not essentially good—except for his looks. He was about the same age as her twenty-two years, but he had that charismatic, charming quality, yet being bad.
She didn’t think he was bad in an evil way. But he did have an air about him that told her he had some kind of secret. Especially when he sat in such deep concentration.
Kristen gasped lightly when she heard the door open. She stepped out of the bathroom and found Luke walking to the kitchen. She watched as he pulled a bag of vegetables out of the freezer and put it against the side of his face.
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Luke told her dryly. “I handled it. Everything is still going according to my plan.”
Plan? What was he planning?
Luke turned to look at her. He lowered the frozen bag, revealing a large red mark on his temple. And there looked like there was a small cut as well.
“Goodness, Luke.”
“Go to the bathroom and get a bandage.”
Without answering, Kristen did as told. She returned to the bathroom, stooped down, and pulled a Band-Aid out from underneath the sink cabinet, then rose. She looked again at the bruising on her neck, finding the hand holding the Band-Aid shook.
The mere thought of the black eye caused her worry. How could he get himself injured that badly? What was he up to? He would leave and be gone anywhere from minutes to hours, with no explanation, no reason.
He didn’t have a bruise like that before he left several hours ago. Something in her nerves shook her to the core, and when he called out to her, asking where she was with the bandage, she jumped.
Something wasn’t right.
She couldn’t figure it out.
However, there was one thought of the good girl everyone believed her to be that snuck its way into her mind.
Maybe Luke was too bad of a guy.
32
“There is definitely a pattern here,” Aidan told the group of FBI agents sitting at the rectangular table in the conference room. He looked around the room, Monroe standing by the door, arms crossed, listening intently. As usual, she arrived a few minutes after the meeting began. Douglas sat opposite Harrelson, jotting notes in his pad. Two other agents followed his example, while the other four listened.
Shaun sat at the front of the table, first looking at Aidan as he gave an overview of the case, then swiveled in his chair to face the other agents.
“All victims by far are family to those who have or had a career in law—apart from Ray Parsons. His mother is a stay-at-home mom while his father is a surgeon. Neither has any ties to the court.”
“It’s possible they could have served on a jury.” It was Agent Harrelson who spoke.
“Yes,” Aidan agreed. “You’re right. I’ll have you look into it to see if either parent served on a jury twelve years ago.”
“Why twelve years?” Douglas inquired.
“We believe something happened, either to the offender, or someone the offender cared for,” Aidan continued. “These murders are personal to him.”
Using the clicker to the projector, Aidan revealed an enlarged photo of Bryce Van Camp they extracted from the school yearbook.
“This is Bryce Van Camp. He was a graduate at Lakeside High School twelve years ago. Bryce was killed a few days after his graduation, walking home. As of yet, we don’t know the details of his death. But what we do know is that Bryce’s photo was found at the first crime scene where Ray Parsons was murdered. We were able to have a positive identification from both Rachel Amos and Leon Quick.”
“Aidan and I are going to dig deeper into Bryce’s past,” Shaun said. “Douglas, to start, we need you to track down his parents.”
“Done.” Douglas nodded.
“Are there any questions?”
“Do we have a theory yet as to why the offender is targeting these particular people?” a petite redhead asked. “Other than the possible law connection?”
With a quick search of his memory, Aidan remembered her name was Annie.
“Not as of yet,” Aidan admitted.
“Maybe he just doesn’t like the justice system,” a young man sitting next to Alice said, resulting in a round of light laughter. His cheeks rose slightly in color.
“As humorous as it sounds,” Aidan said pointedly, “What Agent Burrows suggested may not be too far from the truth.”
The room quieted down.
“As I’ve mentioned, these murders are especially personal. Someone may be seeking revenge for injustice for the death of Bryce Van Camp. That’s what we need to find out.” He paused, scanning the room.
“Uh, Annie, right?” Aidan asked the new redhead.
“Yes.”
“I’d like you to learn about Bryce Van Camp’s death. We need to know every detail that you can find.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
After Aidan and Shaun listed a few more tasks for the agents in the room, Aidan asked again if there were any other questions.
A few mummers of “no” scattered the room.
“There is one final thing,” Aidan said, before calling an end to the meeting.
He and Shaun had already spoken to Monroe about Jordan Blake’s uncanny talent of knowing things he shouldn’t know and requested that they deal with the situation before it got further out of hand.
She agreed there was a need for delicacy in their investigation. As with any other murder, if the public learned of some facts, the offender may change the way he kills to throw off investigators, or too many tips may result in too many false leads.
It was time to address it to the team in general.
Aiden cleared his throat. Although he got along with most of the agents under Monroe’s command, he found himself feeling uneasy with giving certain directions. He was still fairly new in the Augusta office and didn’t wish to create undue tension.
He had no idea how Shaun managed to strongarm him into giving the speech. Aidan made a mental note to get him back later.
“There is apparently a leak in this office.” He paused a beat to let the news sink in. The agents in the room exchanged curious glances before refocusing their attention on Aidan. “Someone is taking it upon themselves to have conversations with the reporters. One in particular. Let me be clear. Nothing about this investigation is to leave this room, unless Shaun, Monroe, or myself, okays the information.”
“And when we do find out the leak,” Monroe added, stepping next to Aidan, “he or she will be dealt with accordingly.”
&nbs
p; The agents acknowledged Monroe in unison.
“Do you have anything else to add?” Aidan asked her.
“No, I said all I needed,” Monroe offered him a smile, before turning to her team. “Just work quickly and efficiently. We’ve already had five deaths on our hands. I don’t want any more.”
“Dismissed,” Aidan said.
He and Shaun began to gather their things as the agents left the conference room one by one.
Monroe remained, a frown on her face, hands crossed over her chest. Aidan could tell she had something on her mind, and as he picked his folders up off the table, he waited for her to speak.
“I hope you’re wrong about this office having a mole,” Monroe said finally.
“I don’t see how I am,” Aidan told her. “How else would you suppose Jordan Blake knows what we’re finding? The information about Judge Paris…I put it in a secured file. And the phrase the offender left… someone in this room is talking to that reporter. I’ll stake my entire career. And I’m willing to bet they’ll leak more information. They may wait a bit, but it’ll happen. It’s just a matter of time.”
“There is a way to catch them,” Shaun started.
“I’m listening,” Monroe said, looking up at him.
“We come up with something to tell each of them, separately. Whoever gives Jordan the deets is our leak.”
Monroe’s frown deepened, as she shook her head slowly. “Most of these agents, I’ve known for a long time, except for the newbies. But I’ve always held the utmost pride in my office in security. It sickens me to think one of our own is giving away our investigation.” She pushed out a despondent sigh. “Do what you need to do.”
With that, Aidan and Shaun watched as their boss left the conference room.
Before they left themselves, Aidan cursed underneath his breath and leaned against the table on a sigh, his hands against the surface.
Shaun eyed him with curiosity. “What is it?”
“You know the worse part about finding the leak would be?”
Shaun shook his head.
“Not being able to prosecute Jordan Blake. It’s not a crime to tell the news as he finds it. Leak or no leak. Jordan Blake will once again skip away happy as a clam that he again got away. Again.”
“You let him bother you too much,” Shaun told his friend. “Jordan may actually go away if you ignored him. But if you keep letting him get to you, he will be the serpent that’ll slither up your pant leg.”
“I can’t help it, Aidan protested. “Every time I see him, or even here his name, I want to just punch him.”
“All right,” Shaun said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go unleash your anger.”
“What? No,” Aidan said. “We’ve got too much work to do.”
“The job will still be there,” Shaun told him. “But if you don’t get rid of your pent-up anger with Jordan Blake, I might punch you.”
Aidan chuckled. “That’ll be the day before you lose your cool.”
“We’re going to the gym,” Shaun insisted. “No arguments.”
33
Jordan dialed the number of his informant and waited until he answered, but he was met with only the dial tone. Frowning with frustration, he called the number again but had to end the call when his uncle stepped into the office.
He leaned against the door jam, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
“Hey, Uncle Thomas, didn’t know you were back,” Jordan said, forcing a smile.
“Got back a little while ago.” Thomas studied his nephew for a moment before continuing. “I heard you had a visit recently from Agents O’Reilly and Henderson.”
“Oh, sure did,” Jordan admitted. “They dropped by to say ‘hey.’ Isn’t that thoughtful of them?”
“That’s all they wanted?” Thomas pressed, his tone telling the reporter he clearly didn’t believe him.
Jordan lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
“You need to be careful, son,” Thomas warned. “They’re intent on finding something to throw you in jail. Don’t give them a reason.”
Jordan rolled his eyes to the ceiling and picked up his bestselling book, flipping through the pages. “It’d be hard to nail me for anything. I’m a reporter. It’s my duty to get the story, by any means necessary. I’m good—no—great at my job. Even you’ve gotta admit that, Uncle.”
“All I’m saying, son, is watch yourself,” Thomas said. “You may get to the top by any means necessary, but, let me tell you something. It’s lonely there at the top. When you get there, you’ll starve.”
Jordan tilted his head back in laughter, then reshelved. “With all the women who throw themselves at me? How can it possibly be so lonely?”
Thomas said nothing as he shook his head and turned to leave the office.
Jordan stepped into the hallway, calling out to him. “What’s wrong with wanting to be the best, Uncle? At least I have aspirations in life!”
Jordan stuffed his hands in his pockets and fell back against the door jam.
His uncle didn’t understand. He never did.
With a wave of his hand, Jordan walked back into his office, shut the door, and picked up his cell phone.
He called the number again, deciding he’d take a trip over to see his informant face to face if he didn’t answer this time.
A groan escaped Jordan’s throat as he ended the call, shaking his head.
When someone knocked on the door, Jordan began gathering his notes on the serial killer.
“Yeah?”
“Let me in.”
At his informant’s words, he jerked the door open, pulling him in his office.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” Jordan hissed, irritation seeping into his tone. “You shouldn’t be here. What if someone sees you?”
“I’ve come to tell you I can’t give you any more information, Blake.”
Jordan narrowed his eyes. “You have to. You can’t stop now. Not when we’re so close.”
“They’ll be watching me,” the informant said.
“O’Reilly and Henderson know it’s you?”
He looked away, avoiding Jordan’s eyes.
“Well, out with it! Do they?”
“I can’t say for certain,” his informant muttered. He looked back at Jordan. “All I know is they’re watching even more closely than before. If they find out I’ve been sending you classified information about The Scavenger Hunter, I’m done. Get it? I can’t afford to lose my career.”
“I’ll double what I’ve been paying you,” Jordan promised. “You know I’m good for it.”
“I do know. But I also know I just can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry, Blake. You’ll just have to get the information on your own.”
“What about your wife?” Jordan challenged. “She still needs medical care, doesn’t she? What I’ve been paying you has helped pay the bills, right?”
The informant paused as if he were considering the proposition. Jordan could tell he was fighting himself on whether or not to do what the reporter wanted.
But Jordan knew.
He knew the love of a woman outweighed what was morally sound.
Why?
Because love makes people do foolish things.
“All right,” the informant said finally, the tone of his voice sounding defeated. “Give me a few days so I can figure something out.”
“That’s my buddy,” Jordan said, patting his shoulder. “Call me. Don’t forget, now.”
The informant remained still for a beat before walking out of the office.
Jordan closed the door behind him and sat at his computer, stretching his arms behind his head.
34
After spending an hour and a half at the gym, pretending the punching bag was Jordan Blake’s body, Aidan walked into his new house, smelling the scent of cinnamon. He shut the door softly, walking through, inspecting each room.
Cheyenne and Laura had done an excellent job with decorating, Aidan mused. They had hung pictures of t
hemselves and their families on the walls, as well as nature landscapes. Decorative items were in its places on shelves and tabletops, the television set up in the corner, sitting on top of the fireplace mantle.
He walked up the stairs and found Cheyenne in the closet, oblivious to his arrival.
Aidan walked behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She jumped slightly with surprise, then melted into his arms.
“You startled me,” she said with a giggle.
“Sorry,” Aidan told her, nibbling her neck.
“Are you home for the night?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Good.” She turned to face him. “How was your day?”
“Long,” he told her. “But good. We’re learning some details. It’s only a matter of time.”
“But?” Cheyenne said, linking her arms around his neck.
“But…we’ve got a leak in the department.”
Aidan released himself from her grasp and walked to the bed to sit, then allowed himself to fall backward.
“Oh, wow. Who?”
With a sigh, he said, “We don’t know yet. But tomorrow, Shaun and I are planning on giving the team false information. We’ll know who the leak is when the creep reports it.”
Cheyenne climbed on top of him and smiled. “I assume this creep you’re talking about is Jordan Blake?”
Aidan nodded. “He really does my head in.”
Cheyenne nipped at his chin. “You shouldn’t let him bother you so much.”
“You sound like Shaun,” Aidan complained.
“Well, he’s right.” She smiled again. “What can I do to make it better for you?”
Her seductive tone aroused feelings in him. He rubbed her shoulders lightly before leaning up to take her lips to his. Cheyenne accepted his advances willingly. He turned her over so she laid on the bed.
Aidan removed his shirt, tossing it on the carpet. He explored her, allowing Cheyenne to help quiet the many voices in his head.
Aidan woke up to the vibration of his phone. Glancing at his clock, he saw he’d been asleep for just over eight hours. A new day had come, the sun peeking through the horizon. It wasn’t quite time for him to get to work, so he closed his eyes, still feeling the sleepiness.
