by Angela Kay
He tried to contain it by assuring everyone that they were working very closely with the local police, as well as law enforcement in other states. Some accepted what he said, others—mostly the men—needed further assurance. Understandably, they didn’t want anything to happen to the women in their lives.
A few of the men wanted to know why he attended the morning service instead of searching for the offender. Aidan replied that even federal agents needed to attend church and listen to God’s words. In his choice of career, Aidan needed to hear His words in order to keep his sanity intact. It reminded him that despite the things he would see on a day-to-day basis, it would work out okay in the end.
But even in church, he always sat on the end of the pew and kept his phone on vibrate in case he was to be called away. Thankfully, he wasn’t this morning, but he found himself drifting from the preacher’s sermon to reflect on the note the offender left for him earlier.
Aidan knew he was planning something big, and he tried to presume what it could be.
Shaun had already issued two undercover agents to keep an eye on Cheyenne. It made Aidan feel better knowing she'd be safe.
They ate a quick lunch at a Mexican restaurant before returning home to get out of the Sunday drizzle.
Now, as Cheyenne and Laura watched a movie, Aidan flipped through the dummy files he removed from the office to see if he had missed something over the last ten years.
It didn't seem he did.
Aidan pushed out a breath with the sudden desire to hurl the files across the room. Ten years had gone by with at least fifty women murdered and they had nothing. He kept waiting for the offender to do something—anything—to slip up. But he always seemed to be too careful. And that gave the offender enough confidence to contact Aidan, claiming something major was in the works.
Aidan frowned. He couldn't for the life of him imagine what he was planning.
Aidan searched his notes for what seemed to be the billionth time, trying to link suspects to the victims. So far, Jordan Blake was at the top of the list, but he didn't think the smug news anchor could pull off such heinous crimes. Then again, when it came right to it, serial offenders could be who you'd least expect.
If Jordan really was The Carnations Killer, then maybe he wanted to push his limits. Maybe he wanted to show them they really couldn't catch him by purposefully being everywhere the victims were found.
“You okay?”
Realizing the living room was filled with complete silence, Aidan eyed Cheyenne. They had paused the film, and two pairs of eyes were gazing at him.
He tried to offer a reassuring smile and claim he was fine, but he could tell Cheyenne knew he was lying—she always could.
“Why don’t you take a break? You promised me, remember? Watch the movie with us.”
“I’m watching,” Aidan told her. He glanced at the picture on the screen. “I’m just...multitasking.”
“You’ve been focused all weekend on this investigation,” she complained, folding her arms over her chest. She frowned. “You’ve been here, but you haven’t been here.”
“It’s my job, Cheyenne,” Aidan said. He swallowed hard as his icy tone flew out of his mouth. But he wasn’t going to back down. “Unless I cave and accept the position at Quantico, this is my job.”
For a few seconds, Cheyenne glared at him, then without saying anything further, she turned the movie back on.
She narrowed her eyes and leaned back against the couch, her arms crossed tight against her chest, her lips in a frown.
Laura bit her bottom lip, unsure of what to say.
Even with his mind set on the latest murder, Aidan knew he couldn’t let it rest at that. With a sigh, he closed the files and set them on the table next to him. Leaving the recliner he sat in, Aidan moved to sit on Cheyenne's left side. He draped his arm over her shoulder. “You know I love you, right?”
“I guess,” she muttered.
Aidan rolled his eyes toward Laura. “Your big sister’s going to kill me one of these days.”
Laura giggled and rose. “I better go ahead and finish packing for tomorrow. You guys need privacy to talk.” She pointed her index finger at Aidan. “You’d better be good to my sister, buddy.”
After she was out of earshot, Aidan pivoted on the couch to see Cheyenne better. “Look, honey, I understand this isn't easy for you. You know, me working this type of job. But I want to do everything possible to be sure you live in a safe world. And these victims...” he trailed off, looking out the window at the rain. “I owe it to these women to find out who took them away from their families. They don’t have anyone else to speak for them.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she replied. “I don’t want to worry about you every day. I don’t want you to be shot at, and I don’t want these memories of cases you haven’t been able to explain destroy you.”
Aidan put a hand on the back of her head and stroked.
“I won’t get shot at,” he promised, “And my memories won’t destroy me.”
She remained silent, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Look.” Aidan pointed to his files resting on the table. “Until Shaun comes over, I promise that will stay right there. Until he comes, I’m all yours. Promise.” He held his hand in a scout’s honor.
Cheyenne glanced sidelong at Aidan. He could see her eyes glistening with tears. Offering a small smile, she kissed him before resting her head on his shoulder.
He knew they’d had the same discussion several times before in the five years of dating and he knew chances were, they'd have it again. Aidan couldn't help but wonder how many more discussions and arguments over his obsession with his job they'd have before she finally gave up and left.
Aidan sighed and tightened his hold on Cheyenne, then kissed the top of her head, which still rested on his shoulder.
For her sake—and his—he tried to push The Carnations Killer out of his mind.
But it wasn't easy.
21
It was still raining when Shaun arrived at four o’clock. They sat in the living room talking while Cheyenne and Laura stayed upstairs. Although Cheyenne and Aidan had made amends earlier, he was still concerned about the choices he was making regarding her in terms of his career.
So, he chose to confide in Shaun, see what he thought. In the short time since they met, Aidan had begun to think of him as a friend and figured it couldn’t hurt to hear an unbiased opinion.
“I understand where she’s coming from,” Shaun said after Aidan finished unloading on him, taking a sip from his beer.
“So can I,” Aidan admitted. “But this is who I am, you know? She knew that when we started going out. Actually, I think in truth, it’s what she liked most about me, although she would never admit it.”
“Well, when you’re young, being with someone that’s a federal agent is highly impressive and alluring.” He leaned over to set his bottle on a coaster on the coffee table. “But when you really start developing feelings, while it may be impressive, it’s not so alluring anymore.”
“So, I guess this is why you prefer to be single, huh?” Aidan asked. “No one to tell you it’s too dangerous.”
Shaun frowned. “No, not exactly.”
Aidan noticed the hint of sadness in his words.
“What exactly is it, then?”
He looked at Aidan, but instead of directly answering, he said, “Sometimes you have to make a choice. The love of your woman or the love of your job. If you do accept the position in Virginia, you will still be in the FBI. You just won’t be investigating, and you won’t be in the line of fire.”
It was Aidan's turn to frown. “So, what you’re saying is I should take the job?”
“I can’t tell you what to do, Aidan. If that’s what prompted you to talk to me, then I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. There will always be consequences. Someone always loses something.”
He picked his bottle up, took another swig, then set it back down.
“L
et me tell you a story about a friend of mine.”
Aidan stared at the floor as he listened.
“Years ago, a friend of mine married a woman. She was beautiful, and they were very much in love. He’d already been in law enforcement for some time. But one day, an opportunity came that would force him to choose between the job he loved and the job that would allow him to keep the woman he loved.”
Shaun paused to take another sip. Aidan eyed him.
“What did he decide?”
“Well, after weeks of fighting and decision-making, he chose the job over his woman. So she took his children and left.” Shaun lowered his eyes to focus on his bottle.
Aidan wondered if Cheyenne would really leave him if he refused the job at Quantico. He had tried, but he couldn’t imagine being anything other than a field agent. Even after fighting his demons, the job was embedded in him. However, at the same time, he didn’t want to lose her.
They fell into a long silence before Aidan spoke again.
“Do you ever get to see your kids?”
Shaun hesitated with a sigh. “I get them for a week once a year and we Skype sometimes. But not often enough. She moved them back to North Carolina, where her parents live.”
Aidan’s cell phone interrupted their conversation. The caller ID told him it was the retired agent. He answered, and put it on speakerphone so Shaun could listen in.
“This is O’Reilly.”
“Good afternoon, this is Jeff Byers. How are you doing today?”
Aidan glanced out the living room window. “Trying to remain dry. It’s raining.”
Byers grunted. “Same here.”
“Thank you for taking the time to call,” Aidan said. “I’m here with Agent Henderson. We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
“Very well,” Byers replied. “What can I do you for?”
“We’re investigating The Carnations Killer,” Aidan began, “A lead brought us to Michigan, where I believe you headed the investigation five years ago.”
“Yes, I remember it clearly.”
“Do you remember the murders of Keisha Moffett and her boyfriend Jamal Foster?”
“Uh-huh,” Byers said. “Foster murdered Keisha and vanished.”
“Actually, Agent Byers,” Shaun interjected, “Foster didn’t kill Keisha. We recently found his remains by Iron River.”
“Oh, really?” Byers sounded generally surprised.
“Yes,” Aidan confirmed. “Was there any reason you didn’t believe Keisha and Jamal were victims of The Carnations Killer?”
“She didn’t fit the profile at the time. And Foster was never found. It made sense that he took off.”
“Did you investigate to see if there was a link between the cases?”
“Why would I?”
Shaun and Aidan exchanged glances.
“Because it was your job,” Shaun told him narrowing his eyes.
“My job was to investigate The Carnations Killer. Not the murder of a woman and disappearance of her boyfriend. Keisha Moffett and Jamal Foster were African American. That's not the offender's MO. He prefers good looking white, blonde women.”
Aidan pushed out a heavy breath, fighting the urge to curse the retired agent's ineptitude.
“Do you remember a reporter named Jordan Blake?”
“No,” Byers answered.
“Did you have any suspects at all in any of the murders?” Aidan asked.
“The scenes were too clean,” Byers replied. “The victims didn’t know one another, neither did their families. We spent two years searching for answers. But it was always the same: no DNA, no prints, no nothing. So the investigation went cold.”
Aidan found himself glad this agent wasn’t a part of the FBI anymore. He also wondered if it was possible he’d been forced to retire. Men like him were what gave agents a bad name.
Aidan asked a few more questions, and when he was satisfied that they wasted an hour of their Sunday, he thanked the agent for his time and pressed end call.
“What a jerk,” Shaun muttered.
“Yeah,” Aidan agreed.
“I get that there was no evidence hinting at who The Carnations Killer was,” Shaun began. “I mean, you couldn’t find leads ten years ago. But to not give Keisha and Jamal a second glance? That makes me angry.”
Aidan said nothing. He had hoped talking with Byers would have helped shed some light in the right direction, but instead, it seemed to Aidan as though they were grasping at straws in the dark.
Shaun and Aidan spent the rest of the afternoon trying to piece together the puzzle, but the only conclusion they came to was that Jordan Blake was the primary suspect. Neither of them believed it was him; however, the little bit of evidence they had stated otherwise.
And that was all the jury needed to know to make a conviction.
When Shaun left, Aidan went in search of Cheyenne, making himself a promise to pretend he was just an ordinary guy, working an ordinary job, spending his Sunday off with his extraordinary girlfriend.
22
Early Monday morning, after Cheyenne hugged Laura goodbye and instructed her to be safe, Aidan drove her to the airport and, after, went to the office.
One of the agents informed him that Jordan’s lawyer got him out on bail. Aidan was already prepared for it to happen but was now discouraged that they were back to square one. Of course, Aidan had requested for Lieutenant Christenson to have some of his men keep an eye on the young reporter.
Although Shaun and Aidan believed in his innocence, he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. The reporter was trouble waiting to happen and Aidan knew he needed to be there to either protect Jordan or arrest him.
“Have you heard anything more from the offender?” Shaun asked when he spotted Aidan. He held a coffee thermos in one hand and a huge blueberry muffin in the other as he left a conversation with another agent.
Aidan shook his head.
“What about you and Cheyenne?” He bit into the muffin, and with his mouth full he added, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And I think we should go into Monroe’s office and tell her about the note.”
“Fair enough,” Shaun replied as he followed Aidan to the assistant special agent-in-charge's office.
Aidan knocked on the door and a second later, it opened.
In the doorframe stood a man with black hair and a goatee. His hair was lightly grayed. His face was stern, and he had a pair of reading glasses sitting on the top of his head. He was about two inches taller than Aidan.
“Agents O’Reilly and Henderson,” Monroe called from inside the office. “This is Assistant Special Agent-In-Charge Zane. He recently came in from Atlanta.”
Aidan recognized the name. He was recently hired to his division, but since Aidan had been on vacation, he hadn't had the chance to meet him. In preparing for his arrival, Aidan had heard about him from Hansford. He was told Zane was all business and no play. Hansford didn't seem to care much for him.
Aidan shook hands with Zane.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, sir,” he told him as they filed into the office. “I'm also in the Atlanta division.”
“Ah, yes,” Zane said, sizing Aidan up. “You’re the agent who The Carnations Killer’s been contacting?”
“Yes, sir,” Aidan replied.
“Do you have any reason why he’s singling you out?”
“No sir,” he answered. “Except I first investigated him ten years ago. He seemed to be taken by me. It's unclear why.”
Zane nodded once.
“Have you had any other contact with The Carnations Killer?”
Aidan glanced toward Shaun, then back at Zane. “Actually, I have. Which is unusual.”
“When?” Monroe asked, narrowing her eyes. She leaned against her desk, crossing her arms and legs.
“Yesterday morning, I found this at my door.”
Aidan passed the note to Zane
. Aidan tried, but failed, to read his expression as Zane gazed at the written letter.
“What surprise do you believe he has in store for you, Agent O’Reilly?” Zane passed the note to Monroe.
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Aidan said.
“And you have no idea why he’s choosing you? You, out of all the other agents? Other than you’ve investigated him in the past?”
His tone sounded accusatory, and Aidan didn’t appreciate it. But instead of saying so, he told him he had no idea what prompted The Carnations Killer’s interest.
“The only lead you have is that reporter? The one Carolyn informed me was released this morning?”
“That’s correct,” Aidan replied. “He has reported on previous Carnations Killer investigations in the past, he lied about knowing the latest victim and somehow he knew it’s all connected to The Carnations Killer. However, other than withholding truths and having a knack for being in the right place at the wrong time, he seems innocent.”
“I see,” Zane muttered. “What’s your profile on the offender?”
“White male, mid-thirties to early forties,” Aidan began. “It’s likely he has a job which allows him the freedom of traveling. The offender subdues them by means of tasing. He doesn’t seem interested in sex; however, he does redress his victims. He gets off from seeing them in pain. He probably harmed animals as a child. He thinks of it as a game.”
“What else can you surmise about him?”
“His victims are usually white women between the age of twenty-eight and thirty-three. Blonde hair. Usually long, but not always.”
Zane nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds credible from what I’ve studied. Where do you believe is his home base?”
“He’s very meticulous,” Aidan answered. “I don't believe the offender would take his victims where he resides. Especially if he has a family, as do a lot of serial offenders. So, I’m thinking he has a place that doesn’t necessarily stand out in a crowd but provides him a degree of privacy.”
“You seem to know him well,” Zane commented. It sounded to Aidan as though Zane was impressed.
