by Angela Kay
“Looks like Christmas here,” Shaun stated.
“Yeah.”
“Where are we going to start?” Jordan wondered with a yawn.
“We’ll find someone who might be able to tell us which employee is Elijah,” Shaun said.
“I actually think I’m looking at him,” Jordan replied.
Aidan looked at the reporter. “You do?”
Trying not to make it seem so obvious, Jordan motioned his head toward a man loading workout equipment on a shelf.
“He bears a striking resemblance to the kid in the photo.”
Aidan had to admit, it did look a lot like Elijah Van Camp. He led the way toward the employee.
“Elijah Van Camp?”
He glanced up briefly, his eyes skimming the badges Aidan and Shaun wore, then he took off in the other direction.
Shaun released a curse, peddling after him. Aidan followed, shouting over his shoulder for Jordan to remain at the front of the store.
Elijah pushed through the double doors in the dock but didn’t get far when Shaun tackled him to the ground.
“Where are you running to, Elijah?” Shaun asked as he handcuffed the man.
“I didn’t do nothing!”
“Anything,” Shaun corrected, pulling Elijah to his feet, then pushing him against the door. “Didn’t do anything.”
Elijah cursed Shaun.
“If you didn’t do anything, Elijah, why are you running?” Aidan asked. “Don’t you know that makes you look guilty?”
“We only want to have a conversation with you,” Shaun said. “That’s all.”
“Oh, good, you got him.”
Aidan released a curse as he looked at Jordan. “Don’t you ever listen?”
“No,” Jordan replied matter-of-factly.
“First truth you’ve ever said,” Aidan muttered.
“Now isn’t the time,” Shaun warned. He looked at Elijah. “We’d like to ask you some questions regarding recent murders.”
“Murders?” Elijah’s eyes grew wide. “I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”
“Good, then the questions will be a breeze,” Aidan mocked him.
“C’mon, man,” Elijah groaned. “What do you want from me?”
“When was the last time you saw Jessie Barcliff or Ryan James?” Shaun asked.
Elijah’s eyes grew cold. “Don’t ever mention those names to me.”
“Yeah? Why not?”
“They killed my brother,” Elijah hissed, “That’s why not.”
“When was the last time you’ve seen them?” Aidan asked.
“How should I know?”
“Hey, hey, buddy,” Shaun said, lightly slapping either side of Elijah’s cheeks. “The more cooperative you are with us, the sooner we can bid our farewells.”
“I don’t know,” Elijah said through his teeth. “Honest.”
“Where were you on May twentieth?” Aidan pressed. “Around twelve-thirty?”
“That’s weeks ago,” Elijah complained. “I barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning. I was probably definitely here!”
“Probably or definitely?” Shaun asked.
“Yes! I was here.”
“Good, you’re doing good,” Shaun chided. “What about your brother and father? When did you last see them?”
Elijah shrugged. “I don’t speak to them anymore.”
“Why not?” Aidan wondered.
“I-it’s complicated.”
Family’s always complicated,” Aidan pointed out. “But they still talk unless they have a reason not to. What’s yours?”
“My brother’s murder really messed everything up,” Elijah said. “My dad started drinking. My mother grew angry. And Max…he just lost it. He was just a kid and Bryce was like everything to him.”
“Why do you think it’s murder?” Jordan asked.
“Legit question,” Aidan admitted. “I’d love to hear the answer. Your brother’s death was a tragic accident. Nothing more.”
Elijah shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. Those people gunned him down.”
“What makes you think that?” Shaun asked.
“That’s what my mother said.”
“So, she told you Jessie Barcliff and Ryan James purposefully ran him down? They were trying to kill him? Did she tell you of a reason?”
“No.”
“What do you know about Ray Parsons, Stephanie Carpenter, Aimee Hollander, and Braxton and Stevie Paris?”
“I don’t know who they are. I swear, I don’t. I-I saw them on the news. They died, right?”
“They didn’t just die,” Aidan snapped. “They were gunned down. They were the children of those involved in your brother’s case.”
Elijah blinked with surprise before shaking his head. “I don’t know anything about them. I-I didn’t know who they were.”
“Your mother obviously held a grudge against your brother’s death,” Shaun said. “She even told us she considered it to be murder. Could your mother have killed these people?”
“What?” Elijah exclaimed. “No, of course not. The news said they were shot. My mom didn’t know how to shoot guns. Dad tried to teach her, but she’d freeze.”
“Could she have hired someone?” Aidan wondered.
“Why would she go through the trouble of killing people twelve years later? Why wouldn’t she have done it then? That’s crazy, man.”
“People do crazy things,” Aidan answered. “Maybe she snapped after trying to hold it in for so long? There’s plenty of reasons why she could have waited.”
“My mom’s not a killer,” Elijah protested. “She may have hated them, but that doesn’t mean she would hurt them.”
“What about your father? Your brother?”
“I don’t know, all right? I told you…I don’t talk to my family. Being around them was killing me.”
“Do you remember going to Highland Lodge when you and your brother were kids?” Jordan asked.
“Yeah.”
“Remember Bandit? The Jack Russell Terrier? He tried to attack you. Do you remember why?”
Elijah paused for a beat. “I don’t know. I didn’t do anything to him. Maybe he smelled fear. I hate dogs.”
“What happened when the dog started going at you?”
“Man, you’re asking about something that happened years ago.”
“Tell us what you do remember.”
“I don’t—the dog just started coming at us. I know someone dragged him away and that was that. What does that have to do with those people who were killed?”
“Maybe nothing,” Aidan said. “Maybe everything. Dogs have a keen sense. Like you said, he may have smelled fear. Maybe he smelled evil.”
“C’mon, man! I was just a kid. How can a kid be evil?”
“It happens,” Shaun replied. “Did you see the dog before the incident?”
“Yeah. They let the dog run loose all the time.”
“And he didn’t do anything before you went into the lobby with your family?”
“No. No, I don’t think so.”
Interesting.
Why would a dog attack Elijah in the lobby, but no other time?
As the more questions buzzed in Aidan’s mind, he asked, “Is there anything else you can add that might help with our investigation?”
“No,” Elijah said.
Aidan hesitated. “All right. Get back to doing what you were doing.”
With a pause, Elijah hurried away, busting through the doors of the dock area.
“He’s hiding something,” Jordan observed.
“That whole family is hiding something,” Aidan said.
“I’m telling you,” Jordan began. “Bandit doesn’t bark or attack anyone without provocation.”
“I believe you,” Aidan replied. He looked toward the door, then back at Jordan. “You confirm that Elijah wasn’t alone, right? He was with his brother and father?”
“Yeah.”
“Then maybe it was
n’t Elijah that Bandit was after,” Shaun followed along.
“So, you think Elijah’s protecting either his Dad or his brother?” Jordan wondered.
“Could be,” Aidan said. “I wonder how Annie and Harrelson are doing?”
57
The hunter stared at Kristen as she set the weapon she’d taken from his gun cabinet onto the table. She had a smile on her face, one that told him she’d done something to alleviate stress or worry.
He knew Kristen had done something terribly wrong.
Something, perhaps, sinister.
She wasn’t an ordinary woman. He could tell that from the moment he met her. But with her willingness to accept him for doing the things he did…well, there was something extraordinary about her. He didn’t know whether or not to worry.
“What did you do?” he asked her pointedly.
She smiled as she sashayed toward him. “I took care of my burden so I can help take care of yours.”
She kissed him on the chin.
“Want a drink?”
Without waiting for an answer, she went into the kitchen, then returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Let us make a toast.”
He continued to watch as she poured two glasses of wine, then handed him one.
“To us. Lovers who have made sacrifices so we can be free.”
She sipped the drink, but he did not. Instead, he kept his eyes on her.
“What?” she asked with a snicker. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to not accept a toast?”
“No one saw you, did they?” he finally answered. The hunter set the glass down with a frown. He took the Springfield XDM that he had used to kill Ray Parsons and checked the chamber before slipping it into the back of his jeans.
Kristen’s laugh was silky as she took another sip of her wine. “Of course not, dear. “I was careful. I got him into the house, and into his bed. Then I shot him.” She shrugged. “He had it coming if you ask me.”
“You’d better hope the cops don’t start asking questions,” he warned her.
“No one saw me!” Kristen insisted. “goodness, give me a little credit.”
The hunter continued to eye Kristen as she walked to a recliner and sat. She took the remote, turning the television on. The station was on WJFX, but it wasn’t the usual reporter. The hunter preferred watching Jordan Blake. He had the reputation of telling the public exactly what the police knew, and to give them what they should expect. No other reporter did that. They tended to know only what was given them by the police.
But Blake’s last news report mentioned that Agent O’Reilly had an idea who had been committing the murders.
The hunter frowned. Was O’Reilly really catching up to him?
The thought crept through his mind as he realized he was being careless. He allowed his lust for Kristen to get in the way, and now he risked getting caught.
He picked up his glass and went to the living room.
Kristen still had a little bit of wine left in her glass. He clinked it.
“To surviving.”
Kristen smiled at him. “I knew you’d see it my way, baby.”
Keeping his eyes on hers, the hunter sipped his wine. She followed suit.
“We’re in this together now,” he told her. “When one of us goes down, the other does too. We’re…intertwined.”
He took a seat on the couch as she watched him.
“We need to find out what the police know. Particularly Agent Aidan O’Reilly.”
She remained silent, her eyes searching curiously on his face.
“I need you to find a way to get information. Jordan Blake usually knows…somehow. But he’s gone on the lam.”
Kristen’s smile stretched across her face.
“That shouldn’t be a problem, baby. I’ve dealt with men like Jordan Blake plenty of times. I know how he works.”
58
Finally free from the agent’s grasp, Jordan decided he deserved to kick back and enjoy a beer at McGinty’s Pub. It’d been a long few days. While he was amused—at first—having to spend his days until Aidan’s and Shaun’s watchful eyes were getting to be too old.
And the black eye Aidan had given him quickly darkened.
Jordan knew he wasn’t without fault. He did leave the FBI building without permission, after all. He supposed a part of him figured if he managed to find out vital information, then all would be all right. Then again, it was Aidan O’Reilly he was dealing with.
Jordan walked up to the bar, slid on a stool, and once the bartender returned to the counter from making his rounds at the table, he ordered a scotch on the rocks.
The bartender immediately poured him a glass.
“Get into a fight, Mr. Blake?”
Unconsciously, Jordan placed a finger on his black eye and gave the bartender a lopsided smile.
“Somewhat. Let’s just say I get in trouble with the wrong type of people.”
“Nice.”
“Busy evening,” Jordan said, glancing around at the crowd already gathering inside.
“Lots of ladies, too.”
Jordan returned his gaze to the bartender with a wink. “Can’t go wrong there.”
The bartender leaned over the counter. “You seem to have an admirer right now. Says she’d love to meet you. Should I give her a drink on you?”
Jordan turned to follow the bartender’s gaze, where his eyes met the those of a young blonde, wearing a halter top, her long, slender legs coming out from her miniskirt.
“Hand it to me,” Jordan said, sipping his scotch. “I’ll do the honor of taking it over.”
“You got it, bud.”
The bartender poured a glass of Chianti and passed it to Jordan. He picked it up by the stem and walked toward the table.
“Is this seat occupied?”
The lady smiled at him, licking her pink lips. “It is now.”
Taking it as an invitation, Jordan sat down and passed her the wine. She accepted it, her eyes burning into his.
“So, you’re the Jordan Blake,” she began. “You’re much better looking in person, I must say.”
“Well, thank you,” Jordan returned. “That’s quite an honor coming from such a beautiful woman.”
“The rumors are true,” she continued. “You are a charmer.”
“Well…” he took another sip of his scotch. “You know my name. What do I call you?”
“Kristen,” she said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kristen,” Jordan told her.
“Oh, trust me, the pleasure is all mine. It must be interesting. You know, reporting the news. Especially the tough news like The Scavenger Hunter.”
“Eh, it has its perks,” Jordan replied. “Then again, it has its disadvantages. But I just roll with the punches.”
“I’d love for you to tell me all about what you do,” Kristen purred, leaning across the table. “There’s just something so…masculine about it all. Something courageous, too.”
Jordan smiled at her. Any other time, he knew, he’d willingly tell her everything he knew and did as a reporter, but he also knew, should he utter another sound, Aidan O’Reilly would not hold back on his rage, and his gorilla of a partner probably wouldn’t either.
“Well, actually,” Jordan began, meeting her halfway across the table. “I’d love to tell you everything I’m involved with as a reporter. But it’ll have to be about the previous murders, of course. I’ve gotten a lot of juicy info during the investigation into the Carnations Killer six months ago. You’ll be begging for more.”
Kristen turned her lips into a small pout. “But I want to know about the ones now. Like, am I completely safe? What if…what if he comes after me? Or my family?”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Jordan promised.
“How…how do you know?”
Jordan rested his hand over hers. “Trust me. Unless you are related to someone who was involved in the death of Bryce Van Camp, you’ll be safe.”
> “Bryce Van Camp…that name sounds familiar. Who is he?”
Jordan considered the question and decided it was safe to answer. He’d already told the public about Van Camp and what had happened to him in the past. But he was curious to know why Kristen didn’t know. Did she not mention she was a fan?
“Bryce Van Camp was killed about twelve years ago,” Jordan told her. “I’ve mentioned him in my segments.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Kristen snapped her fingers. “Jessie Bander and Ryan Lanes, right?”
Jordan chuckled. “Jessie Barcliff and Ryan James. They were drinking and having a heated argument. Jessie accidentally hit him.”
“And this killer is going after the ones involved in the trial, right?”
“Well, the kids of everyone who had to do with Van Camp’s death. We still don’t know why he’s targeting the kids.”
“I see,” Kristen muttered. “On your last show, you mentioned that one of the agents may know who the killer is. Do you think he’ll catch him soon?”
Jordan took another sip of his drink as he shook his head. “I received false information when I reported that, actually. O’Reilly doesn’t know anything, yet. At least nothing he’d consider substantial.”
“Oh,” she said, pulling back from him.
“But don’t worry,” Jordan told her. “The guy will be caught.”
“How can you be sure?” Kristen wondered.
“One thing I know about Agent O’Reilly is that he’s stubborn as a mule. He doesn’t give up.”
“That’s good to hear,” Kristen told him.
“You know,” Jordan said, glancing around them. “It’s getting a bit stuffy in here. Why don’t you and I…” He tilted his head toward the door. “…Why don’t you and I get out of here? My place is only a few blocks away.”
“Actually,” Kristen said as she rose. “I’m going to pass. It was a pleasure, Jordan Blake. Good talk.”
“What, that’s it?” He tried to mask his surprise but knew he didn’t do very well. It wasn’t the norm for Jordan to be turned down.
“Yes,” Kristen told him. “Maybe some other time.”
