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

  I CAN HUNT

  Copyright © 2020 by Angela Kay, all rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form (stored or transmitted) without written permission from Angela Kay or Stained Glass Publishing. An exception is granted to the use of brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction, and all characters are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First printing, October 2, 2020

  Cover Design by Elizabeth MacKey

  Also by Angela Kay

  Jim DeLong Mysteries

  The Murder of Manny Grimes

  Blood Runs Cold

  The Aidan O’Reilly Files

  I Can Kill

  I Can Hunt

  Other Works

  Whispers of the Dead

  Uncovering Justice

  The Naked Eye: A Locked Room Short Story

  “There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.” –George Carlin

  “The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them.” –Lois McMaster Bujold

  “Saying nothing…sometimes says the most.” –Emily Dickenson

  1

  THE MORNING SKY cast sunbeams in each direction making more vivid the leaves and blooms of shade-loving plants of late summer. Somewhere in the distance, morning birds and the chirping of the last insects of summer were heard, slowly waking the inhabitants of the forest.

  The smell of rain lingered in the air, and the sky would likely break into a light mist sometime mid-morning. And when the wind blew, the chill accompanied the threat of the coming rain. The wood from the hunting stand was damp from the morning dew, awakening the perfume of the woods. The stand overlooked the forest, hiding behind a vast array of trees.

  Across the land, a white-tailed deer slowly exited the underbrush, paused, and sniffed the ground. He began to chew on something as if he had no care in the world.

  Just a naturally wild animal in his natural habitat, doing what he did on a day-to-day basis.

  The hunter sat in his stand and lifted the small-plot smasher ambush 300 Blackout, his weapon of choice when hunting. The weight of it was heavy, but he worked out daily, so he never took much notice. The supersonic .30-caliber weapon was deadly for anything up to two hundred yards and offered a quick recoil should the target manage to escape the blast of the first round. His favorite advantage about this particular gun was the ability to hunt and still minimize the gunfire.

  It was a much-needed inclusion for his hobby.

  The hunter didn’t need the risk of going deaf from the constant gun blasts, nor did he wish to raise attention from nosy people. It wasn’t hunting season, after all.

  The shotgun didn’t have a scope, but the hunter didn’t need one. He was a skilled marksman, and the deer, some meters less than two hundred feet would have been a perfect shot, even if the hunter closed his eyes. He’d been told he had a sixth sense when it came to firing weapons.

  Since he was a young boy, the hunter made an effort to exercise his skill.

  However, today, it wasn’t the deer he hunted.

  As he waited, his patience settled from years of practice, his attention was stolen by a scratching sound. On his right, two squirrels were at play on the side of a thick oak tree, passing a small acorn back and forth. One of the squirrels squeaked, turned, and scurried down the trunk of the tree, his mate hot on his heel. The hunter chuckled as he watched until finally, the voices he’d waited more than two hours for began to float his way.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” The first voice sounded uncertain. “I mean, it’s like searching for a certain needle with a bunch of other needles.”

  To the left of the hunting stand, the hunter saw two young men approaching, both wearing bright orange shirts. It was hard to see their faces through the leaves and the still-darkened sky.

  But there was no doubt it was them.

  “Yeah,” the second boy replied. “Let me look at the map again.”

  Silence fell through the woods, save for the chirping birds.

  The hunter lifted his assault rifle and rested the barrel on the edge of the ledge. Zeroing his eyesight in on the tallest boy, the one holding the map, he waited for just a few seconds.

  “It’s definitely around here somewhere. According to the map, we should find the treasure southeast.”

  “Which way is that?” the younger of the two questioned.

  “Uh, well, east is left, so we’ll go this way.”

  The boys began walking again, their gait slow as their heads were buried in the map.

  A few more steps.

  The hunter heard a bleat, a doe calling for her mate.

  “What was that?” the younger boy gasped. He grasped his companion’s shoulder and scanned the area.

  “Will you stop being so skittish? Geez. I should have left you home so I could find the treasure myself.”

  “No way!” the younger shrieked. He glanced around as if suddenly afraid someone might be listening. “But what if we get caught? We’re on private property,” the younger boy said. “I don’t want to wind up lost. No one will know how to find us.”

  “We’re not going to get lost.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do. Now shut up and let me concentrate.”

  The two boys came into better view, and as if luck were on the hunter’s side, the oldest boy turned and faced him.

  His thick blonde hair curled against his forehead and his eyes narrowed into tiny slits as he scoured the area.

  The young man next to him was half an inch shorter, resembling his companion, almost mirror images.

  They were, of course, brothers. The hunter knew that. He studied them, just as he studied all his targets. He still felt the anger he had as he planned, plotted, and prepared for this moment. The burning sensation, simmering underneath the lid, ready to spill out.

  A chill crawled up his spine, and his hands shook, the gun rattling ever so slightly. A memory stirred and he gripped his weapon tight, closing his eyes, hoping it would soon pass.

  Opening his eyes, the hunter watched as the boys slowly resumed trekking through the leaves.

  The deer in the opposite direction still searched for food, oblivious that she was not alone.

  “Wait, stop,” the older of the boys said. He glanced at the map, then at the tree in front of him. “It’s here, I think. This tree…” He pointed. Too engrossed in the paper he still held to look up. “It has the same markings as on the map. What’s written on it?”

  He stepped closer, studying the tree, running his hands against the words the hunter had carved when he first arrived hours ago.

  “The hunt ends here,’” the older boy read. He paused to glance around until his eyes once again settled on the tree. “Stevie, I’m not so sure about this. This is starting to get weird.”

  Stevie ignored him, kneeling to brush away the thick pile of leaves.

  “Braxton! Look. We’ve found the treasure!”

  He pulled something from the ground underneath a bed of leaves and studied it with curiosity. “It’s the emerald ring.”

  The hunter slid his finger to the trigger of his assault rifle, his heart hammering against his ribcage, the rush of adrenaline almost unbearable. Or, perhaps, it was nerves resurfacing. Whichever the case, he took care to keep his movements and not ruin his shot.

  It wasn’t his first kill. He’d hunted game before. Usually deer. His dad had taken him duck hunting once before when he was a boy, but neither liked it. De
er was the way to go.

  That was until the hunter decided on a new game.

  Somehow, this was more satisfying.

  Much more satisfying.

  Braxton knelt next to his brother. “Awesome! Where does it say we go next?”

  Stevie ran his hand along the ground, brushing dirt away.

  The hunter was going to do it.

  “There’s no note.”

  The trick was, he knew, not to think twice. It was something he’d dreamt of for years, something he’d wanted, although it wasn’t until recently that he realized what he was destined to do to make things right.

  Braxton rose and looked around the tree trunk. “That’s strange. Did we win the hunt?”

  The hunter drew in a heavy breath.

  Braxton set his hands on his hips. His eyes glued on the carved message, he shook his head. “I think we should get out of here. There’s something not right about this.”

  “Like what?”

  Braxton looked around, taking a step back. “C’mon, I really think we should—.”

  The hunter squeezed his finger against the trigger.

  Crack!

  Braxton’s face twisted in sheer horror, but he didn’t run, nor did he cry out.

  Stevie froze.

  The world seemed to slow as Braxton fell to the earth. Even the hunter heard the satisfying thwack when the back of the boy’s head snapped against a large rock.

  It was then Stevie released a bloodcurdling scream, the sounds echoing through the still forest. The younger brother stumbled backward, falling onto his backside, eyes fixated on his dead brother.

  The hunter wasted no time.

  He lined up his shot on the younger boy and squeezed the trigger.

  Within seconds, the echoed remnants of the boy’s cries faded.

  The hunter sat in eerie quiet before looking to where the white-tailed deer once stood.

  The doe was gone.

  2

  FBI SPECIAL AGENT Aidan O’Reilly nudged the door open with his shoulder, carrying a large brown box, grumbling to himself about what could be in it.

  He set it in the hallway next to the one marked kitchen.

  His t-shirt clung to his body with sweat and he fanned it in an attempt to cool himself with the breeze. He wasn’t sure what the temperature was, but it seemed to him it was a sweltering hundred degrees. Then again, he’d been working hard at crowding his new home with heavy boxes.

  Moving was never fun, but it often came with the job. However, this time, it came as a choice, and Aidan found himself lucky to have been able to transfer to the Augusta residency office.

  Somewhere in the house, he heard the voices of his girlfriend and her sister, their gleeful laughter floating in the air. It didn’t matter how long between time the sisters saw or spoke to one another—it was as if time stood still for them.

  Aidan smiled to himself, never realizing how much Cheyenne missed her sister.

  “Think I got the rest of it.”

  Aidan looked behind him as Shaun Henderson entered the house, carrying two boxes in his large arms.

  Shaun set the boxes on the ground with a thud and wiped his brow, the sweat shimmering off his dark skin.

  “Sure is hot out there,” he noted.

  Aidan nodded. “I appreciate your help, buddy. I owe you one.”

  “Yes,” Shaun agreed, with a bob of his head. “You do.”

  Aidan’s lips stretched to a smile as he glanced at his watch. It was closing in on three in the afternoon and they’d failed to stop for lunch.

  “How about I start by ordering pizza?” Aidan suggested.

  “Can’t go wrong with that,” Shaun agreed, slapping a large hand against Aidan’s shoulder, forcing him to stumble. “You do that. I’ll get the girls.”

  Aidan pulled his cell phone from his jeans, ordered a large pepperoni pizza. He passed through the living room on the way to find the others. Other than the array of boxes, it was bare, so they would be sitting on the floor.

  The Augusta residency of the FBI field office had arranged for the furniture later the following week. For the time being, he and his girlfriend would be forced to sleep on the floor.

  In the kitchen, Aidan eyed Cheyenne, who sipped her Chardonnay, her focus of attention to her younger sister, Laura sitting on the island.

  Laura tilted her head with laughter, playfully pushing at Shaun’s arms.

  “You’re kidding me,” Laura was saying.

  “Not a bit,” Shaun confirmed. “I sat right on that cake in front of everybody. I have to admit, it was not my finest moment.”

  “Your girls seem to be extremely…mischievous,” Cheyenne observed. She set the flute on the counter next to her but continued to hold on to the stem.

  “I bet they take after their father,” Laura purred, playfully batting her eyelashes at Shaun. “Am I right?”

  Aidan noticed the slight shade of red coming across Shaun’s ebony face.

  “My dear,” he began, “I’m perfectly well-behaved.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Laura replied. “I’m known to change a person in ways they’ve never imagined.”

  “No doubt,” Shaun said.

  Aidan leaned on the edge of the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around Cheyenne’s waist, pulling her into a hug. He eyed Shaun. “I hope someone filmed it.”

  “Don’t even think about it, O’Reilly,” his friend warned.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aidan claimed. He winked at Laura. “But I have wondered why the girls call you “Daddy Cake” sometimes. Really, though, I just think your daughter’s birthday party must have been the event of a lifetime. It’d be a shame to not have it on film.”

  “Right,” Shaun said with a roll of his eyes. “So, when’s that pizza coming?”

  “Oh, he’s changing the subject, now,” Aidan teased.

  “He’s hungry,” Shaun insisted.

  “He’s blushing,” Aidan pointed out.

  Shaun cursed his friend, though a smile spread across his face, his eyes shining with amusement.

  “Well, I’d love to meet them someday,” Cheyenne said.

  Shaun nodded at her. “You can count on it. But no cakes.” He shot a look at his partner.

  “I’ll make him play nice.” She laughed, patting Aidan’s chest. “Bet you miss the girls like crazy.”

  “It’d be worse if I didn’t get to FaceTime them often,” Shaun said. “But I do miss being able to hug them whenever I want.”

  “Your ex-wife remarried, right?”

  “Yes.” Shaun shrugged. “The girls seem to like him. That’s the important thing, right?”

  “No doubt,” Aidan said.

  Laura looked at Aidan.

  “When do you start work?”

  “Monday morning.”

  “That’s right,” Cheyenne agreed, lifting her flute to her lips. “Isn’t it like a man to leave the heavy work to the women?”

  “I’m sure you’re very particular about where you want things to be,” Shaun told her. “Isn’t that true, buddy?”

  Aidan tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. “You have no idea.”

  With a laugh, Cheyenne swatted her hand to his chest. “Oh, hush up, won’t you? And change into another t-shirt. You are so gross.”

  Aidan responded by hugging her tighter and Cheyenne squealed in protest but didn’t appear to attempt an escape with much vigor.

  Shaun chuckled.

  “I still can’t believe Cheyenne convinced you to move to Augusta,” Laura squealed, clasping her hands together. “This is going to be so great.”

  “It will be,” Cheyenne agreed. “I’ve missed you so much, Laura, you don’t have any idea. I’m only glad the option to move was available.”

  Shaun nodded once. “Aidan left a big impression with Monroe. She all but orchestrated the move.”

  “With Shaun’s help, of course,” Aidan said. “I’m just glad I decided to officially
turn Quantico down. The thought of me teaching instead of being in the field…I just don’t think I could bear it. But, you know, it still wasn’t an easy decision.”

  “I do know,” Cheyenne told him. “Like I told you before—you are this job. It’s where you belong. Where we belong.”

  With a small smile, Aidan leaned in to place a kiss on her lips.

  “I can see it now, Aidan,” Shaun said with pride in his words. “Augusta will be better off with the team of Henderson and O’Reilly.”

  Aidan switched his attention to his friend. “I think you meant O’Reilly and Henderson.”

  Shaun narrowed his eyes as if to ponder the statement. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Buddy, think of the initials. If people just used the initials for our team, I think I would much rather it be OH, wouldn’t you?”

  Shaun pretended to think about the choices. “I’ll let you win this time. But just wait until I get you in the gym.”

  Cheyenne and Laura chuckled.

  “I’m not sure Augusta is ready for you two, but I think it better watch out,” Cheyenne noted. “Who knows what could happen with you two stubborn men at the reigns?”

  “In all seriousness, though,” Shaun said. “Glad to have you aboard.”

  Before Aidan could respond, Shaun’s cell phone interrupted the conversation. He fished it from the clip on the side of his jeans.

  “Henderson.”

  He listened with intent. He glanced at Aidan, his eyes narrowing in distress.

  “On our way.”

  He looked to the sisters, then back to Aidan. “That was Monroe. There’s been a murder. She…wants us to come on in.”

  Aidan nodded, then noticed Cheyenne’s frown.

  “We just got here,” she muttered. “I was hoping we could have at least the weekend to get settled.”

  “I know, love,” Aidan said. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

  Though her expression didn’t change, Cheyenne nodded and kissed Aidan, her lips soft. “I know. Be safe.”

  Aidan looked down at Cheyenne’s knee, Where she’d sustained an injury a few months ago.