I Can Hunt: An FBI Thriller (The O'Reilly Files Book 2)

by Angela Kay

  “Is he still around? So I can verify the story?”

  “He’s home, but I can give him a call for you and arrange for you to meet with him.”

  “Thanks, man,” Jordan said. “You’ve been a major help.”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes in thought. “You think the kid’s killing those people in Augusta?”

  “It’s possible,” Jordan said. “Bryce Van Camp was killed twelve years ago. It was a terrible accident, but his folks are claiming murder. We’re trying to locate the brothers. When I saw this photo, I thought I’d come see if you might be able to give me insight.”

  “I’m glad to have helped an old friend.”

  Jordan grinned. “It’s been great to see you again. Even though it was on business.”

  “True that, dude,” Caleb said as he rose. “Try not to be a stranger. Give me a few to find the boss man.”

  Jordan rose, extending his hand, which Caleb accepted.

  “Thanks, man.”

  Caleb walked away to make his phone call and Jordan picked up his beer to sip it.

  Yes, he had managed to get a lot of information. Now, he needed to decide what to do with it. Did he want to share with O’Reilly and his partner? Or did he want to continue searching for more details of his own until he had enough for a breaking story?

  Shaun had promised he’d have the exclusive when the killer was caught, but could Jordan trust them?

  Sure, he could, Jordan decided.

  He could trust Aidan O’Reilly and Shaun Henderson as much as they could trust him.

  53

  Kristen’s uncle kepT his head under the hood of the Dodge Ram, fiddling with this and that. She didn’t know what all went on inside cars. She did know her uncle was good at them, though. He used to work at a garage some years ago, but had since quit the trade. Still, a few of his faithful customers would go to no one but her uncle.

  She wondered if any of them knew what he’d done to her as a child. What would they think if they were to find out? Would they wish him dead, as she wished him every day of her life?

  Of course, it wouldn’t happen. It seemed to Kristen that all the bad people in the world lived while the good ones move on to the other side. It was one reason why she figured she really wasn’t all that good. She still lived, though her parents, who were good people died, leaving her with a man who stole her childhood, took away her innocence.

  Up until now, Kristen didn’t have the courage to face him.

  Up until now, she didn’t know what she’d want to do if it ever came time to face him.

  Sooner or later, she decided, evil must die.

  And her uncle definitely fell into the category.

  After spending long nights in bed with Luke, thinking about the impending death of her uncle, she decided she no longer wanted to wait. And she didn’t want Luke to commit the deed. Kristen wanted to show him she belonged to him, and she wanted to know what it was like to be in control of her own life.

  While Luke went out to find his next victim, Kristen left to find her uncle.

  The man who whistled underneath the hood of his truck.

  The man who lived while good people died.

  The man who stole Kristen’s life, and the man who would die by Kristen’s own hands.

  She took a couple more steps closer to him.

  “Uncle Horace.”

  He righted his body and turned; his face scrunched in frustration. His eyes widened with recognition.

  “Krissy, you finally figured out you wouldn’t survive without me, did you?”

  Kristen chuckled. “No, Uncle Horace. It’s quite the opposite. I came to show you I can survive without you.”

  He smiled, his chubby, scruffy bearded cheeks hiding his beady eyes. A gold tooth glimmered in his mouth.

  The mere sight of him made her skin crawl.

  His laugh mocked her.

  “Right, baby girl. You come for a quickie?”

  “No.” Kristen reached inside her handbag and pulled out the weapon she’d taken from Luke’s gun cabinet. She remembered he had told her it was a Springfield XDM, not that it mattered. When she first held it, she was amazed at the power it’d given her.

  She was in control.

  Horace’s laugh deepened, sounding more crazed. “What do you think you’re doing, baby girl?”

  “What I’ve dreamed of ever since you came into my room that first night. I’m finally getting rid of some of the evil in this world. You took something from me, Horace. I want it back.”

  Horace’s face changed as he’d begun to realize she wasn’t kidding. He slowly put his hands in the air.

  “Now, let us talk about this, Krissy.”

  “No!” She didn’t mean to shout. She closed her eyes and pulled in a breath, then reopened them. “No. Go inside. Move it. Now.”

  Horace did as he was told, his movements slow. She followed him, keeping the pistol in front of her.

  Once they were inside, Kristen felt the chill, feeling it to her bones. Horace always kept his house much too cold, she remembered. She never could sleep with it so cold. She remembered he had told her they needed to snuggle closer to stay warm. She had pleaded with him, but he wouldn’t listen. He only told her it was what she wanted. What she needed.

  Kristen shook her head free of the memory.

  “In the bedroom. Now.”

  Without a word, Horace did as she instructed.

  When they entered the room, she told him to get in the bed.

  He did.

  “You don’t want to do this,” he told her.

  “You always knew what I wanted, didn’t you?” she asked.

  54

  Aidan walked inside his house, angrily slamming the door behind him. After spending most of his day talking to the family members of the victims about the Van Camp boys, they had returned to the office, only to find Jordan was not there. Annie had told them he needed to let his dog out.

  Knowing the reporter didn’t have a dog anymore, Aidan knew he’d given her the slip.

  Unfortunately, no one knew to where.

  A part of Aidan wasn’t surprised by Jordan’s disappearing act. Whenever he came face to face with him again, he would make sure the reporter got punished, somehow.

  He tossed his keys on the counter. They slid off and onto the floor, but he barely took notice.

  Footsteps were heard coming down the stairs until Cheyenne rounded the corner.

  “What in the world is going on?”

  “What’s going on?” Aidan snapped. He released a curse. “I’m sick of Jordan Blake. That’s what’s going on. Every time I turn around, he’s up to something. I’m going to kill him.”

  Cheyenne frowned, but didn’t respond.

  “He’s got to go. His uncle should just send him some other place so I can investigate my crimes in peace!” He knew with his luck, even if that were to happen, the weasel would pop up somewhere in his life.

  Aidan shook his head firmly, stomped toward the fridge, and took a beer out of it before slamming the door back. Glasses clattered from impact.

  Popping the top, he turned to look at his girlfriend, who still frowned at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said. “But I need you to be calm.”

  Aidan scoffed. “Doubt that’ll happen anytime soon.”

  “Aidan…”

  “Look, Cheyenne, I’m sorry. Really, I am, but Jordan Blake is an uncontrollable menace who has got to be stopped.”

  “I get it, honey, I do,” Cheyenne said. “But I’ve waited all day for you to get home to talk to you. Can you please forget Jordan Blake for a few minutes?”

  Aidan narrowed his eyes with concern. He studied her face and even amidst his raging fury, he knew something was up. “You’re not still feeling sick, are you? Should I take you to the doctor?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve already been to the doctor.”

  “Oh,” Aidan said. “You’re okay, tho
ugh?”

  Cheyenne bit her bottom lip. “It depends. Can we sit?”

  She took his hand and guided him to the living room. They sat on the couch. He waited with impatience for her to speak.

  “I want you to know, honey, I love you. Very much.”

  “I-I love you too,” he stammered. “You know that, right?”

  She smiled sheepishly. “I do know.”

  A pause. She stood up and walked to the entertainment center and picked up a white bag.

  “I got you something today.” Cheyenne passed it to Aidan, who was slow to accept it.

  “What’s going on, love?” he asked.

  She smiled softly. “Just open it.”

  “Okay.” Aidan pushed the tissue papers back and pulled out a black shirt. He unraveled the shirt and stared at the writing.

  Number one Daddy.

  Eyes wide, Aidan looked at Cheyenne, whose face scrunched up with apprehension, waiting for a reaction.

  “Ch-Cheyenne,” Aidan stammered. He looked back at the shirt, then at her. “You’re—we’re—a baby?”

  She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. She forced a laugh and covered her mouth with her hands.

  “I know we haven’t talked about it,” she whispered, “and we haven’t even gotten engaged, but…yeah. I’m pregnant.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Aidan admitted. “I can’t even…”

  “Are you happy?” Cheyenne asked, worry etched in her voice.

  “Y-yes!” Aidan exclaimed. He reached his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “Yes, I’m so happy, love. This…it’s…”

  He trailed off, finding himself unable to speak.

  Cheyenne sobbed against his shoulder, and when Aidan pulled away, he rubbed the tears from her cheeks with his hands. Without saying anything more, he leaned in for a long, hard kiss.

  It was then, the frustration of the case, the anger with Jordan, everything seemed to melt away, even if only for the night.

  If only for the night, Aidan was on top of the world.

  55

  “This is great newS,” Shaun exclaimed, a large hand slapping against Aidan’s shoulder. “I’m so happy for you. I think you’ll make a great dad, buddy.”

  “Wow, a dad, huh? You got your girl knocked up?”

  At the sound of Jordan’s voice, Shaun and Aidan turned to face him. Aidan could feel the anger beginning to overflow as he glared at the reporter. He knew he should push the anger back.

  By now, Aidan knew to expect Jordan would do whatever Jordan wanted.

  He knew he shouldn’t allow the cocky, unreasonable, infuriating journalist to get under his skin.

  But then again, Aidan’s nationality was Irish, and they were known for their hot temper.

  “I suppose I should offer my congratulations, then,” Jordan said innocently.

  Aidan released a growl, walking toward the reporter. Rearing his fist back, he landed a right hook against Jordan’s temple, knocking him into a nearby desk. Jordan stumbled and fell to the ground with a groan.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t lock you up and throw away the key?” Aidan hissed as a crowd of curious and amused agents looked on.

  Jordan chuckled, putting a hand to his eye. He looked at his fingers as if to check for blood. “I admit I had that coming.”

  “What is going on here?”

  Monroe pushed through the crowd, glancing from Jordan on the floor, to Aidan.

  Aidan’s face paled when he saw the FBI director, Zane standing behind Monroe, his expression unreadable.

  Monroe, however, failed to hide her anger.

  “In my office, now. Both of you.”

  With that, she stalked away.

  Jordan rose to his feet. “Feel like a man now, O’Reilly?”

  “Shut your bloody mouth,” Aidan hissed through his teeth as he walked away, avoiding eye contact with his boss’ boss.

  “Your buddy’s got a temper,” he heard Jordan tell Shaun.

  Aidan didn’t wait to hear Shaun’s response. He quickened his steps and rapped his knuckles on Monroe’s door. She instructed for him to enter, so he did, followed soon by Jordan.

  Monroe’s back faced them with her arms crossed as she looked out the window.

  Neither Aidan nor Jordan, spoke.

  “Want to tell me what that was about?”

  “I apologize,” Aidan said. “I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”

  He ignored Jordan’s gaze.

  Monroe turned to look at Aidan, her face clouded with anger. “I don’t care what bad blood is between you two. I don’t care who lost whose temper, and I don’t care who either one of you think you are. I do, however, care that one of my agents clocked a reporter in the face inside my building.”

  Aidan worked hard not to reveal his emotions, anger, or otherwise. His first instinct was to make it known that Jordan had ditched them yesterday, but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to point fingers like a child. He knew he had done wrong.

  “Ms. Monroe,” Jordan said, taking a small step forward. “It’s my fault. I disobeyed Agents O’Reilly’s and Henderson’s orders yesterday. They requested I stay in this building while they questioned the victims’ families, but I didn’t. I went off on my own and—.”

  “They requested you to stay here when I explicitly instructed them to keep you with them?”

  Jordan, obviously realizing he’d once again put his foot in his mouth shrunk back to stand next to Aidan, who remained quiet.

  “You know what?” Monroe said, holding her hands up. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to choose to ignore what just happened. I can only hope Zane will do the same. But going forward, if either of you has the desire to punch each other, do so on your own time. And your own turf.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Aidan said.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Monroe lowered herself to her chair and picked up a stack of papers.

  “Agent O’Reilly.”

  Aidan paused at the door and turned back to look at his boss.

  She hesitated a second, searching his face as if trying to find answers, then shook her head as if there were none.

  “I’m still trying to make sense of Agent Douglas’ betrayal. He had been with us for many years and had done the agency proud—until now. Betraying our trust to Jordan Blake is extremely unsettling.” She paused. “Did I make a mistake bringing you on board?”

  For a second, Aidan remained in silent shock at the question. He glanced down at the floor, shame enveloping him, then looked back at her.

  “No ma’am.”

  “I honestly hope not. I will be watching everyone like a hawk. I need to know I can trust my team.”

  “Understood, ma’am.”

  “Good. Dismissed.”

  His legs feeling like lead, Aidan left the office, closing the door behind him.

  He walked to his desk, where Shaun and Jordan waited for him in silence.

  “Everything okay?” Shaun asked.

  “Peachy,” Aidan muttered.

  “Good,” Shaun replied. “Blake claims he has some information to hand us about the Van Camps.”

  “Oh, so he’s deciding to play with the big boys now?” Aidan snapped. He drew in a deep breath and pushed it back out. He needed to work harder at keeping is irritation with Jordan Blake at bay. The thought that Monroe may not trust him gnawed at him. He looked at Jordan. “What do you have to say?”

  Jordan told them about the trip to Highland Lodge, and his conversation with a friend of his who had worked there for years. He told them he was able to confirm from a secondary witness that the usually friendly Jack Russell Terrier showed signs of aggression to the four Van Camp men.

  “What exactly does this prove? The dog probably would want to chew you out,” Aidan said.

  “Actually, Bandit had always taken to me quite well,” Jordan replied. “He and Duke were best buddies back then. But accordi
ng to Caleb, there was no reason for Bandit to start attacking. There was no provocation, I mean, he’s never done it before, and he hasn’t done so since. Doesn’t that say something?”

  “I’d say so,” Shaun said. He shrugged when Aidan glared at him. “There could be something to it. Dogs are exceptional at recognizing bad vibes in people.”

  Aidan had to admit they had a point.

  “All right,” he said. “But that won’t matter until we can find the brothers and question them.”

  “I may be able to help with that,” Harrelson said as he approached.

  “You found them?” Shaun asked.

  “Actually, Annie found them,” Harrelson told them. “Last night. Elijah Van Camp lives in Swainsboro. He works at a sporting goods store. His brother, Max, is in Aiken. The local cops got him on a speeding ticket yesterday afternoon.”

  “Good going,” Aidan said. He looked at Shaun. “We can go to Swainsboro and Rob can take Aiken.” To Harrelson, he asked, “Has Annie gone on assignment yet?”

  “No,” Harrelson answered.

  “Take her with you, then. She found the men, so I think we allow her to see through questioning one of them.”

  “She’ll like that,” Harrelson replied. “She’s got promise.”

  “As long as she can keep an eye out for troublesome reporters and not letting them melt her into a puddle of goo,” Aidan cornered. He pushed out a breath. “Sorry, I’m…working on my frustrations.”

  “It’s all good,” Harrelson said, glaring at Jordan. “I get where you’re coming from.”

  As he walked away. Jordan scoffed. “Seems I’m getting quite the rep among you folks.”

  “It’s not the kind of rep you’d want,” Shaun warned.

  “Per Monroe’s wishes,” Aidan said, “You’ll be tagging along as usual. You do not speak. Think you can finally grasp an understanding?”

  Jordan mimicked saluting. “Right on, boss.”

  With a groan, Aidan said, “Let’s get going.”

  56

  Aidan, Shaun, and Jordan walked into Rebel Sports and a crowd of shoppers. It was a large store, much like Dick’s Sporting Goods, with apparel, sporting equipment, canoes, and weaponry. Employees busily scrambled around, helping customers on the floor or at the checkout.