I Can Hunt: An FBI Thriller (The O'Reilly Files Book 2) Page 12

  “We might as well. Thank you, Sergeant.” He removed his cell phone. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to call my girlfriend and let her know I won’t be coming home tonight.”

  Loren nodded as Aidan stepped out of the office to make his call.

  He dialed Cheyenne’s cell number and waited until the drone of the tone was replaced by her voice.

  “Aidan?” she asked warily. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

  Aidan frowned at the concern in her voice. He had promised her since the first day of their budding relationship he’d never cause her to worry about him. Of all the mistakes he made in their relationship, he had vowed to keep that one promise.

  And now, he’d broken it.

  “I’m sorry I hadn’t called before now, love,” Aidan sighed. “The day got away from me.”

  “Well, are you coming home soon?” she wondered. “I made my lasagna and opened a bottle of wine for you.”

  Aidan closed his eyes, cursing underneath his breath. If he didn’t feel like the worse boyfriend before, he did now.

  “That’s the thing,” Aidan said. “I’m not coming home tonight. Shaun and I were called away to Mauk.”

  “Where?”

  “Mauk, Georgia,” Aidan repeated. “It’s about four hours or so from Augusta. There was a double murder and…”

  “And you decided to take off without letting me know?” Cheyenne finished, letting the heat of her words seep through. “Aidan, I had made dinner plans. The least you could do is tell me you were going to another part of the state and staying overnight.”

  Aidan considered protesting, trying to make her understand it wasn’t planned and he hadn’t meant to ruin her dinner, but he decided it wouldn’t be the best course of action. She was already angry, and protesting would only add fuel to the fire.

  He opened his mouth to speak when Shaun poked his head out.

  “Aidan,” he said, his face clouded with anger. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re going to want to see this.”

  “Cheyenne, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get home, okay? I promise. I need to get going. I love you.”

  “Yeah, me too,” she said, her voice laced with sadness.

  Aidan ended the call, trying not to let Cheyenne’s disappointment get to him. He walked into Loren’s office.

  “What’s going on?”

  “See for yourself,” Shaun said, his bulging arms crossed tight over his chest.

  Shaun’s eyes were focused on the television.

  Aidan followed his gaze until he let out a curse as he listened to Jordan Blake’s breaking news report.

  22

  “SOMETIMES I HAVE a hard time believing Jordan Blake,” Aidan grumbled, angrily kicking his shoes off. “Other times I can believe him.”

  Shaun unleashed his tie from his large neck, draping it over the chair by the window, keeping quiet.

  “A part of me wants to go back home right now just so I can strangle him, beat him, do something to him,” Aidan continued, following his rant with a round of curses. “I mean, how did he even find out about the judge? How did he know where we were?”

  Another curse.

  “And he already knew about the carvings at the crime scenes. How?”

  He kicked a shoe across the room.

  “Why is it that when we’re on a high-profile case, that snake of a reporter gets inside information? Last year, it was the Carnations Killer. The bloody offender sent Blake texts himself letting him in on the details. Now it’s happening again! How?”

  Aidan turned to face Shaun, his hands on his hips.

  “And how can you be so calm?”

  “I think you’re showing enough anger for both of us,” Shaun told him matter-of-factly.

  Aidan narrowed his eyes and cursed his friend. “I hate that about you, you know? You are too bloody calm.”

  Shaun shook his head slowly. “Getting angry will do nothing but fuel Jordan. You think he’s going to stop finding ways to get the answers he wants? No. He’s going to keep on and keep on and keep on until he’s at the top. And he’s going to be all the more pleased with himself on his way up there because he knows he’s gotten under your skin. We both know that Jordan is a cocky, selfish, sorry excuse for a human being. But you need to remember that, and you also need to realize nothing either one of us can do will ever start mellowing him out.”

  His breath heavy, Aidan stared, eyes narrowed in tiny slits, then he pulled in a deep breath and pushed it out. He fell backward onto one of the beds, bouncing slightly on impact.

  “We can’t allow him to get away with this,” Aidan muttered.

  “And we won’t,” Shaun assured him. “But we need to be smart about this. We know Blake’s getting inside information. We don’t know how or who is feeding him said information. Either way, he’s going to hide behind the Shield Law. We can’t force him to give up the source if he doesn’t want to.”

  Aidan fell back against his bed, anger fueling his energy. He wished just for one day, he could do something, anything, to the reporter. It was difficult enough looking for the identity of The Scavenger Hunter. Now, with Jordan obviously finding information the FBI wanted to keep quiet until they were ready to share…the hunter would be not just two steps ahead, but four.

  Was history repeating itself? Was the hunter in contact with Jordan?

  “I don’t know who it is,” Shaun continued. “But I do know we have a leak somewhere. When we get back, we’ll talk to Monroe and go from there.”

  They fell into a brief, harsh silence.

  “Cheyenne’s mad at me,” Aidan muttered, forcing his mind to change the subject.

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t tell her we had to go out of town. When I called to say we needed to stay the night, she told me she had made lasagna and opened a bottle of wine.”

  Shaun whistled. “That’s not good, buddy. I guess the second you get into town, you better buy out a florist and candy store.”

  “She’s going to kill me, isn’t she?”

  Shaun chuckled, unbuttoning his dress shirt. “Probably. Your primary job is to make your woman happy, and buddy, if she’s not happy, ain’t nobody’s happy. I’m taking a shower. When I get out, I expect you in your own bed. Not mine.”

  Aidan narrowed his eyes with curiosity.

  “Who says this is your bed?”

  Shaun arched a brow. “I says.”

  “Maybe I like this bed. I laid on it first. It’s comfortable. I’m claiming it.”

  “I’ll fight you for it,” Shaun threatened. “You don’t stand a chance against these muscles.”

  As if to prove his point, Shaun flexed his arms, revealing his bulging biceps, then hummed a sprightly tune the rest of the way to the bathroom.

  “I need a new partner,” Aidan muttered.

  “Good luck with that, buddy. After all, Monroe kept us together because the team of Henderson and O’Reilly rules the street.”

  “O’Reilly and Henderson,” Aidan corrected.

  “We can go at that all night long and you’d still be wrong.”

  “Fine, whatever you say, Joe Armstrong.” Aidan got to his feet. “I’m going to go for a run. I need to clear my mind.”

  “All right,” Shaun said. “Try not to punch anybody.”

  Before checking in at the hotel, they went to a store for clothes to change into since neither brought any with them. Now, Aidan changed out of his dress clothes into a plain white tee and a pair of shorts. He slipped on his shoes and headed for the door.

  The night air was crisp but humid.

  Aidan didn’t mind. He started off in a jog, working up to a full-on sprint.

  By the time he finished the run and returned to the hotel room, the moon was full and bright. He used the key card to unlock the door and slipped in. Shaun was already snoring in his bed.

  Aidan removed his shoes once more, then his shorts. He slipped his shirt off as he walked to the bathroom for a shower. The day c
ontinued to fade away as the faucet pushed cool water onto Aidan’s head. He stood in the shower, leaning against the wall for at least ten minutes until he decided it was time to get out and rest. They had a full day ahead of them and Aidan knew he needed sleep.

  Aidan turned the water faucet off, grabbed a clean towel, and dried himself before slipping into clean clothes. He draped the towel over the shower rod, turned off the light, and climbed into bed. Closing his eyes, he spoke a silent prayer, then waited for sleep to come.

  23

  THE NEXT MORNING, Aidan woke up to Shaun belting out song lyrics in the bathroom. He sat upright in the bed, waiting for the sleep to go away. When it did, he eyed the white paper bag on the TV stand, his stomach grumbling with morning hunger. There was a smell of food reaching his nostrils, and Aidan decided it must be originating from the bag.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Shaun said as he exited the bathroom. He snatched the bag up and tossed it to Aidan. “Breakfast, courtesy of Sergeant Loren. He’ll be back within the hour after taking care of some Taylor County business.”

  “Smells good,” Aidan muttered, removing a breakfast burrito from the bag. He opened the wrapper and bit into it. “Tastes good, too.”

  “Sleep okay?” Shaun asked.

  “Yeah, fine,” Aidan said. “Bed was comfy enough.”

  “Mine was a plush pillow,” Shaun teased.

  Aidan rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then glanced at the time. “I better call Cheyenne and pray she’s not still mad.”

  It took a minute for him to find the pants where he had put his phone. He called the number and waited until she answered.

  “Hey,” Cheyenne said, her tone more upbeat.

  “Good morning, love,” Aidan replied. “Are you doing all right?”

  “Yeah, fine,” she answered.

  He paused a beat.

  “Are we doing all right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I just wanted to surprise you with a nice dinner. Then I didn’t hear from you, I got worried.”

  “I know,” he told her. “I really am sorry. Time got away from us and it was too late before I realized it. I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

  “You better,” she said with a light laugh.

  Aidan looked toward the door when he heard the knock. Shaun answered.

  “I need to go. I’ll call you when we’re on the way back,” Aidan said.

  “I’ll wait for you,” she promised.

  “You better.” Aidan pressed end call and greeted Sergeant Loren. “Good morning, Sergeant. Thank you for breakfast. It’s very much appreciated.”

  “It’s the least we can do,” Loren replied with a quick nod. “Are you ready to head back to the lodge?”

  Aidan realized he hadn’t put any pants on. With a sheepish smile, he did, then glanced in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. Once he was satisfied, he looked halfway decent, Aidan turned to see Shaun smirking at him.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Shaun said. “Do you need a few more minutes to put on your makeup?”

  Aidan cursed him as he pushed his way by to leave the hotel room.

  “What?” Shaun said, closing the door behind them. “We’ll wait. I don’t think the sergeant’s in a rush. I’m used to waiting.”

  “One day…,” Aidan warned.

  “You love me, and you know it,” Shaun said, opening the passenger door of the sergeant’s squad car. “You probably stay awake at night, wondering how you’ve made it this far in life without me.”

  Aidan opened the back, looking over the hood. He could hardly see Loren due to the sergeant’s short stature. “You may want to look the other way. I’m going to punch him, and it won’t be pretty.”

  Loren chuckled as he slid into the driver’s side. “Gotta have some relief in our line of work, huh?”

  24

  AIDAN STOOD, HIS gloved hands resting on the edge of the hunting stand, looking down at the scene playing out before him. Loren had fifteen police officers on his staff and called for eleven of his men to assist in the investigation. The stand was close enough to hear talking below, yet hidden just out of sight. And if the hunter wore camouflage, then he would have been nearly invisible.

  There were no tangible fingerprints found in the stand, though Aidan guessed the hunter would have worn gloves. He was careful. And he would have taken any shells deposited from his weapon.

  The other stands within the vicinity were blocked from giving an unobstructed view of the crime scene. Trees stood in the way, or else it was too far in distance. While distance doesn’t necessarily matter, serial killers tend to want to revel in their crimes. They want to be as close as possible, so they can feel themselves taking the life of their victims.

  But this serial offender was different.

  Although there was nothing definite to say the hunter used this particular hunting stand to kill Braxton and Stevie Paris, Aidan couldn’t shake the feeling he was in the same spot where the offender stood only a few days ago.

  It was now nearing noon, and they’d been expelling taxpayers dollars for over an hour. Sergeant Loren called out to him from the ground below.

  “Agent O’Reilly, my men haven’t found anything. We’re going to pack it up.”

  “All right,” Aidan called down to him. He turned to lift the trapdoor and began to climb down the hunting stand.

  “Well,” Shaun sighed as he approached, rubbing the nape of his neck. He let whatever else he may have been thinking remain unspoken.

  “Yeah,” Aidan agreed, knowing his friend well enough to know his thoughts.

  “I’m sorry we weren’t much help in your investigation,” Loren said genuinely. “I’m also sorry for the Paris’. These murders…I can’t fathom what was going through the killer’s mind as he committed them. And I can’t even begin to think how their parents feel. Or the family of your other victims.”

  “Was this your first murder?” Aidan asked.

  Loren swallowed hard, then nodded. “We’re a quiet town. We don’t even have that many robberies going around. Mostly, it’s just kids making graffiti.”

  Aidan’s cell phone vibrated against his hip. He looked at the caller ID.

  “It’s our forensic team,” Aidan said, pressing the accept call button, then putting it on speaker.

  “O’Reilly.”

  “Agent O’Reilly, this is Jackson from forensic. I’ve got the ballistics report on Stephanie Carpenter.”

  “What do we have?” Aidan asked.

  “The victim was killed by a.30 caliber weapon,” Jackson began. “I’ve got an entire list of possible weapons, but if you asked me, I’d say it’s likely shot from a small-plot smasher ambush 300 Blackout. It’s quiet enough not to draw too much attention, lethal, and gets the job done.”

  “At least we have one thing we can go on,” Shaun said.

  “Do you have the report from Ray Parsons to compare?”

  “I do,” Jackson muttered, “It’s around here somewhere, hold on a second. Ah, found it. Okay, let’s see. The bullet we extracted from Parsons was a .40 caliber weapon. I believe it’s a Springfield XDM. Gotta admire this guy.”

  “How so?” Shaun wondered.

  “By his choice of weapons. He knows his guns.”

  “All right,” Aidan said. “Thank you for getting in touch with me.”

  “Yup.”

  When the phone call ended, Aidan replaced it in his holster. “Both guns were built to kill,” Loren said.

  “Aren’t they all?” Aidan asked pointedly.

  “Yes, though I mean the blackout has a recoil ability. If you miss a target, it’s ready to shoot in that second. And I’ve had a friend shoot the Springfield. Bullseye every time.”

  Shaun looked at Aidan. “And very easy to conceal.”

  “Like sneaking into Phinizy Swamp,” Aidan said. “Our guy’s smart. He knows who he wants to target, how he wants to target them, and what he wants to target t
hem with. He may have spent years planning this.”

  “Maybe,” Loren muttered, though Aidan could tell something else was on his mind.

  “Go on, Sergeant,” he urged. “What are you thinking?”

  “While it’s true, your killer might have planned this for a long time, it’s also true that he knows his weaponry, he knows how to shoot to kill. Have you considered the thought that he’s in the service?”

  They began to make their way to Loren’s squad car to leave the hunting lodge. Loren’s men had already packed up and left.

  “You’re thinking someone in the Army?” Shaun pressed.

  “Green Beret, to be exact. They’re diligent and well-trained. They know how to blend in, and they know how to choose a weapon to fit their needs.”

  “Does any of our victims have connections to the military?” Shaun wondered.

  “Nothing came up so far,” Aidan said.

  “What all do you folks know of your victims?” Loren wondered.

  “Stephanie Carpenter grew up in a family of lawyers,” Aidan answered. “And she was about to marry into a family of lawyers. Braxton and Stevie Paris are sons of a judge.”

  “Both victims are the offspring of parents in the judicial system,” Shaun said, tracking along. “But Ray Parson’s dad is a surgeon. His mother a stay-at-home mom. Neither connects to the others.”

  They reached Loren’s car and climbed inside.

  “Not yet, anyway,” Aidan replied. His mind swirled, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. He made a note in his pad about Loren’s theory and one of his own.

  There was something to what Aidan was thinking.

  There had to be.

  25

  AIDAN PULLED UP the driveway and into the garage. He got out of the car, a bouquet of mixed flowers in hand. Using his key fob to close the garage door, he walked inside, finding Laura rummaging around in the kitchen. With a start, she spun around, eyes wide, then pushed out a breathy laugh, setting her hand over her chest.

  “You startled me,” she said.