I Can Kill: An FBI Thriller (The O'Reilly Files Book 1) Read online

  Two new things they never had before.

  At least that was something.

  The lab was examining the taser to see if anything of interest could provide some clue as to where the parts came from. They hoped to come across a trail of breadcrumbs.

  As it neared two o’clock, Aidan's desk phone rang.

  “O’Reilly.”

  It was Christenson.

  “I’m not going to be able to make it to the briefing today after all,” he said. His voice sounded tired. “But one of the employees that night—Devon Richards—he saw someone in the shadows as he left. Then the guy walked up to our vic and started talking. The suspect wore a cap and Devon didn’t see his face.”

  “Did we question him before? Why didn't he mention it when we were trying to find Jane?” Aidan asked.

  “He said he didn't remember it until now. He was too tired to pay much attention, but his window was down, and he heard part of the conversation. Our suspect was asking what time the store opened because he wanted to buy a chest that was on clearance.”

  “So, he’s been in the store,” Aidan muttered. “This Richards guy didn’t remember seeing him before?”

  Christenson cleared his throat. “All he said was that he sees too many people every time he’s working to remember faces.”

  “What time did this occur?”

  “He said they left the store around ten forty-five.”

  “Okay, thanks, Lieutenant,” Aidan said. After he ended the call, he looked across his desk at Shaun. His eyes were narrowed, and it was obvious he was trying to figure out the other end of the conversation. As Aidan gathered everything he wanted for the briefing in ten minutes, he paraphrased what was said.

  “Sounds to me like the offender is beginning to get careless,” Shaun construed. “We know he doesn’t leave witnesses.”

  “Let’s hope he is,” Aidan replied. He looked at his colleague and rose. “Because we sure could use a break.”

  33

  After the briefing was over, Shaun and Aidan decided to go back to the beginning, where Maya Gibson was found three weeks ago. They agreed to take on a new approach: view the scene through the eyes of a killer.

  Thankfully, it hadn’t begun to rain again as the news had predicted, but the sky was still dark, so Aidan was guessing their luck would eventually run out. It was only a matter of time.

  Until then, Shaun and Aidan stood outside of the car at Clarks Hill Lake, brainstorming what they knew with what they presumed.

  It seemed as though years had passed since they first found Maya’s body. Standing before the scene where she was found brought an emptiness to Aidan.

  He flipped through his case files and began to read.

  “Maya’s husband said she’d gone missing the week before she was found,” Aidan stated. “After she didn't return home and he hadn’t heard from her for a few hours, he called the police. Dispatch took the information but told him their hands were tied until forty-eight hours passed.”

  Shaun released a low curse. “That’s a long time to wait when you know it’s out of character for someone to disappear without a word.”

  Aidan agreed but didn’t voice it.

  “TOD was said to be by eleven the night before she was found,” Aidan continued. “It’s about the same time frame for all the other victims, give or take an hour. So, he’d kidnap them and hold his victims captive for a week. But he never sexually assaulted them. We know he hit them repeatedly with a heavy object.”

  “Like a baseball bat?”

  Aidan considered the sounds he heard when the offender called him. He had come to the same conclusion. Before answering, Aidan looked at the autopsy photos and studied the cuts and bruises.

  “I don’t think so. Whatever it was, it was metal. Slimmer than a bat.”

  “So, what? Tire iron, golf club...” Shaun trailed off, staring at the scene.

  “Could be one of those.” Aidan continued to scan the reports. “So after he gets bored of her, he kills her, redresses her, then he dumps the body here. He did the same last night with Jane at the Lady A Pavilion.”

  Deep in thought, Aidan lowered himself to the ground so he could get to the other side of the police tape. They walked slowly to the scene.

  “Maya’s body was found early in the morning by the teenagers.” Aidan looked at the file. “Around six thirty. They didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The girl tripped over Maya’s feet.”

  They looked around the scene. Although the police tape was still protecting the area, Aidan saw the crime scene unit had cleaned it up.

  “Her personal items aren’t on her. What does he do with her phone and her wallet? Her car is found where she last was seen. How does he transport her?”

  “I think that’s the million-dollar question,” Shaun replied. He looked sideways at Aidan. “Did Devon Richards notice any other vehicle around the night Jane went missing?”

  “No. He said someone was ‘standing in the shadows.’”

  “So, when he selects his victims, he does so on foot.” Shaun narrowed his eyes as he worked out a theory. “Considering he doesn’t use a car, he’d need a way to take them to his home base. He can’t exactly carry them, right? And he wouldn’t have a shopping cart or anything because if someone spotted him, they’d become suspicious, and he’d have more unintended murders on his hands.”

  Aidan saw where he was going.

  “When he grabbed Jane Ridgeway, according to Devon, she was at her car. Which means her keys would be nearby. So, if I’m following you correctly, he could have driven Jane’s car to his home base. Later, he’d return the car where he’d originally found them. Either he has another car stashed somewhere waiting for him, he steals another car or he simply uses some public transportation system to get around.”

  “You think he did the same with Maya?”

  “Our guy is habitual. He has a routine and sticks with it.”

  “Agreed,” Shaun said. “We need to take another look at Jane’s and Maya’s cars. We need to see the mileage.”

  34

  “SO, what did your uncle say?” Kent asked.

  Jordan eyed the basketball goal, tucked his arms to his side and shot the ball into the air. It went in without hitting the backboard.

  “He thought about it for a while and now that there’s a second murder, he wants me to lay low. Maybe take a vacation somewhere,” Jordan answered. He grabbed a beer from the cooler as Kent scooped the ball in his hands to swing it toward the goal.

  He missed.

  Kent jogged to the cooler, grabbed his can and popped it open.

  “Sorry man.”

  Gary Short was quick to snatch the ball before it rolled further away, then jogged toward his colleagues.

  Jordan shook his head. “It’s crazy! I didn’t do anything, and Thomas is looking at me like I did.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” Gary replied, tucking the ball under his arm. “He just needs to think about the reputation of the station.”

  Jordan scoffed. “Really? That’s what you think he’s worried about? I am the reputation.” He jabbed a finger toward his chest. “I made the station what it is. I report the news and people turn to watch me report the news.”

  “Wow,” Kent replied. He sipped his beer. “I never knew what Thomas meant by you having your head stuck in the clouds. Now I see it.”

  Jordan glared at him but didn’t respond while Gary held back a snicker.

  “I told you not to go on camera the first time,” Kent reminded him. “Remember? When you got that card, I told you to go to the cops. You didn’t listen. And you’re the one who lied about knowing Maya. You didn’t even tell me you knew her.”

  Gary arched an eyebrow at the statement.

  “So, what?” Jordan snapped, glaring at his friends. He returned his focus to Kent. “Now you think I’m killing these women?”

  Kent closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, I am not saying that at all. Come o
n, man, give me some credit. I’m only saying you should have been more forward about your involvement with both Maya and reporting the other cases. You thought the cops really wouldn’t find out?”

  Jordan cursed under his breath.

  “And another thing,” Kent continued, “Stop acting like you’re king of the world. You’re not. Thomas is right—there are others that can do your job. You are replaceable. Just because he’s your uncle doesn’t mean you’re invincible. You’re lucky to be walking around now and not rotting in jail.”

  Kent set his beer down, retrieved the ball from Gary and began dribbling. He tossed it in the air. The ball bounced off the rim and rolled back toward Jordan, who snatched the ball from the ground. He spun it on the tip of his index finger with a sneer.

  “Man, you’re a bad basketball player,” he told Kent with a shake of his head.

  “No kidding,” Gary chuckled.

  “I’m a cameraman,” Kent replied with a shrug. “Not a ballplayer.”

  Jordan shot it in the air. It hit the rim, slowly falling into the net. He turned to his friends with a sigh.

  “You really think I have my head in the clouds?”

  “Maybe not the clouds,” Kent told him. “More like the trees.”

  Jordan laughed at him.

  “I’m going to go,” Kent said. “Unlike you, I do have work in the morning. So this is where Kent Ory signs off.”

  Kent bowed his head with a smile and Jordan shook his hand.

  “Thanks, man. I’ll call you. I’ll probably take Thomas’ advice and take a trip out of town. I want to stay under that Agent O’Reilly’s radar at least a few days.”

  “See you later, then.”

  “Yeah, I should go too,” Gary said. “The wife's having company later and I need to clean up a bit.”

  He slapped Jordan on the shoulder and headed toward the cars.

  As Jordan watched his friends walk away, he thought about what they had said. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he did put himself on a pedestal. However, he was one of the top reporters in the southeastern states.

  And why was that?

  Because he was good looking, young, and he did whatever it took to report the news.

  Was he disheartened because a hot woman he knew personally was dead?

  Sure.

  He liked her and was shocked when he learned the victim was Maya. But did that mean he needed to change his ways?

  Not for a second.

  Jordan dribbled the basketball as he ran across the court. He jumped in the air and slammed the ball into the hoop.

  35

  While Shaun checked Maya’s vehicle, Aidan examined Jane’s. The total number miles on Jane’s odometer read a hundred and eight thousand. Pressing the trip button, he saw it was set at fifty-six miles.

  Aidan wrote the figures in his pad and made a mental note to ask her husband when Jane usually set her trip meter.

  He was thinking it was possible to guesstimate where the car had been since last night. If they were lucky, conferring their victim’s vehicles, they may be able to narrow down possible locations of the offender’s home base.

  When Aidan finished, he climbed out of the car and shut the door.

  “What did you find?” he asked Shaun.

  He recited the numbers, which were slightly higher than what Aidan had come up with. But now they both had something more to work with.

  Something Aidan was sure the killer hadn’t even considered.

  On the way back to the office, Shaun called Maya’s husband, then Jane’s. After Aidan pulled into the parking lot of the federal office, Shaun said Maya would reset the trip after she had an oil change, which she did a week before she was murdered. Jane had gotten gas two days ago, and she reset the trip then. Both husbands also relayed the places they knew their wives had driven.

  It was getting late, so after they informed Monroe of what they found, Shaun and Aidan finished and went their separate ways.

  When Aidan pulled into the garage, he went into the house and found Cheyenne pulling a roast out of the oven.

  “Hey,” she said. “How was your day?”

  “Well, we may have found something useful for finding where the offender’s been operating.”

  “That’s good,” she said.

  Cheyenne stirred the green beans and asked Aidan to get two plates from the cabinet.

  As he did so, he watched her carefully. She took in a deep breath and pushed it out as she dumped the beans in a container and brought it over to the table.

  “What did you do today?” Aidan set the silverware next to the plates.

  She shrugged as she finished gathering their supper. “Not much. Laura called today.”

  “How is she?”

  “Good,” Cheyenne replied as they ate. Then she laughed. “She met a guy at the hospital.”

  Aidan raised his eyebrow. Laura was known to pick up men and throw herself into a serious relationship. Her longest romances usually lasted less than two months. It was enough time for her to have her usual fling while in Florida.

  “Really?”

  “His name’s Michael and he’s a heart surgeon.”

  “Wow,” Aidan said. “Very prestigious.”

  Cheyenne gathered a forkful of mashed potatoes and stuffed it in her mouth. Aidan finished off his green beans before taking two sips of his drink.

  “She says he may be ‘the one,’” she said, using air quotes.

  “Well, you never know,” Aidan replied, “Your sister’s at the age where she might want to settle down.”

  Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. She’s got too much of our mother in her. At least she doesn’t marry so she can get divorced five times—yet.”

  Aidan finished his roast and potatoes as she stabbed the rest of her beans with her fork.

  “Give your sister some credit.” He rose and pushed the chair under the table. He began clearing the table as she stood and helped pack the leftovers.

  “Want to make a bet?” Cheyenne challenged.

  “A bet?” Aidan considered it as he waited for the faucet to shoot out hot water. “Name the stake.”

  “How about...” He washed a large pot as she thought. “...If she ends the relationship before she leaves Florida, the loser is the winner’s slave for a month. Back rubs, breakfast in bed, whatever.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal, little lady.”

  They shook on it, then Aidan used the water spray to wet her.

  “Oh no, you didn’t!” Cheyenne laughed.

  She attempted to grab the sprayer, but her laughter weakened her, and he was able to pin her arms to her side. He leaned toward her neck and kissed her.

  “Give?” Aidan asked.

  “Yes,” she said with a sigh.

  Aidan released her, and she quickly grabbed the sprayer and squirted him.

  “Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” he warned. “I’d sleep with one eye open tonight.”

  As a way to end the water feud, she leaned in for a kiss. They enjoyed each other in silence for a few minutes, then he told her he was going to take a shower to wash the day away.

  36

  Again, The Carnations Killer invaded his sleep. The victims new and old would reach their hands out as if yearning to touch him. They would tell him how he failed them.

  Blood would run from the ends of their hairs, their skin pale. Aidan would start to feel the coldness surrounding his body. His breath rose and evaporated into the stagnant air.

  He saw Jane Ridgeway and Maya Gibson being beaten by a heavy object. They pleaded for the hands to just stop.

  But the hands that held the object wouldn’t.

  The crunch as the object made contact with their skulls sounded like booming thunder.

  Crunch. Crunch.

  He stood on the sidelines watching, desperately wanting to help them, but he couldn’t. Aidan was frozen in place.

  Crunch.

  Powerless to stop The Carnations Killer fr
om bludgeoning them.

  From murdering them.

  Tears of dark blood ran down their faces until they lay in a pool of thick red liquid.

  And the laughter echoed in the darkness. Aidan was surrounded by the deep laughter that just wouldn’t stop.

  Their eyes were fixated on him, but they were empty.

  Crunch.

  Then Maya ripped her head off the ground. Her eyes were blackened, and a ghost of a smile crawled across her pale face. Her mouth moved, but it wasn’t her voice that spoke.

  It was her killer’s: I can kill, and you can’t catch me.

  And in that moment, Jane appeared next to Maya.

  They began chanting the killer’s words.

  Their bodies made quick, jerking moves as they inched closer, closer.

  Aidan wanted to back away, but he still couldn’t move.

  His legs seemed as though they stood in hardened cement.

  The black night was prominent against their pale, gray faces.

  Next, the scenery changed, and he saw the offender dumping Maya’s limp body at Clarks Hill Lake. Aidan saw the silver moon gleaming against the water, creating a hazy aura across the surface. The trees outlined the sky.

  Then he found himself standing at the Lady Antebellum Pavilion, watching the killer toss Jane away as though she were nothing but trash.

  The sounds of the night seemed to be mocking him. The birds, the wind, everything laughed.

  It was growing colder, but he felt the heat rise in him.

  The killer climbed back in the car, hands bloodied. Looking into the rearview mirror, Aidan saw his face for the first time.

  But it wasn’t The Carnations Killer.

  It was his own.

  Blood stained Aidan's skin and his normally blue eyes were black.

  He couldn't recognize himself, but there was some sense of familiarity, and he knew it was him. The image of the mirror slowly swirled, until the blood began dripping.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  He wanted to cry out, but his voice seemed to be lost in his throat.

  Then Jane appeared in the backseat of the car. The smile stretched across her face made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. His body shook, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold or seeing the dead woman’s lifeless face.