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

  “Don’t overdo it, okay? If it starts flaring—.”

  “Stop worrying,” Cheyenne said. She cupped his chin in her hand, then leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

  “I love you.” He said, then looked at Laura with concerned eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” Laura said with a mischievous smile. “If she even winces in pain, I’ll be sure to tie her down.”

  “Good.” Aidan kissed Cheyenne once more before letting his arms slide from her waist.

  “I suppose we’ll grab something to eat on the road,” Shaun said as he pushed to his feet.

  “Fine by me,” Aidan replied, following Shaun out the door. “You ladies stay out of trouble.”

  There was no rest for the weary.

  3

  THE CRIME SCENE was at a house hidden behind rows of trees, with a pond dividing their destination from another house. Two ducks bathed, the sunshine bright, reflecting off the dark, green water.

  The roadway leading up to the house was one way, and Shaun had to pull into the driveway of the first large house they came to. Marked and unmarked police cars already lined the dirt road.

  Aidan and Shaun climbed out of their car and pulled on latex gloves as they made their way up the steep hill.

  They didn’t yet know the details of the murder, just that a young woman was shot in her backyard and there was something that required the FBI’s attention. With that in mind, Aidan kept his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary in the front, although various police officers were doing the same.

  They were recognized by an older officer keeping watch at the police tape. He waved them on without a word, however, Aidan couldn’t help but notice the glare he had given them.

  As they walked toward the door, he glanced over his shoulder to see another officer walking up, engaging the first in hushed conversation, trying to not be so obvious they were watching them. It never bothered Aidan that some disliked him whenever he showed up at a crime scene. To some, they felt when the FBI was called in on an investigation, they would get stepped on. And sometimes the distrust was founded. At times it was the case. Aidan had known some rivalrous agents in his time.

  Returning his attention to the task at hand, Aidan followed Shaun up the broken stairs, holding onto the railing because the steps themselves didn’t appear to be in good shape. The door was open, and he could see FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Monroe talking to Lieutenant Christensen.

  It was Christensen who spotted the agents first.

  “Agents Henderson and O’Reilly. Thank you for coming down.”

  They had worked closely together almost six months ago when Aidan had been thrust into the investigation of a series of murders by the Carnations Killer, who left a note on the body of his victim, accompanied by a bouquet of white carnations. Christensen, though he appeared uncomfortable being the solo Richmond County officer in a room full of FBI agents, liked Aidan and Shaun and offered them any assistance they required. After the Carnations Killer was arrested, and when Cheyenne got out of the hospital, the lieutenant bought them dinner at Calvert’s as an appreciation. Aidan could still remember how good the bacon-wrapped shrimp tasted.

  “Of course, Lieutenant Christensen. What do we have?” Shaun asked as they approached.

  “The vic’s name is Stephanie Carpenter,” he told them, motioning with his head toward the door. “She was shot out back.”

  From where they stood in the den, Aidan couldn’t see the backyard. However, riding up to the house on the single road with a vast amount of trees, he assumed the backyard would be similar.

  “The woman who cleans the house was the one to find her,” Christensen continued. “She’s still outside if you want to talk to her. She’s shaken, but still responsive. For now.”

  Shaun offered a single nod. “I don’t suppose you’d be calling us if this had been the only incident.”

  Monroe linked her arms over her chest and tapped her chubby fingers against her upper arm. “Two days ago, a teenager by the name of Ray Parsons was shot and killed while at a class trip at Phinizy Swamp, another injured,” Monroe told them. “Three friends, Ray and two others, separated from their class. No one knows why they left. They didn’t tell anyone they were planning on going off on their own. One of them is in a coma. He had fallen and hit his head on the railing.” She sighed. “The doctor believes he’ll make a full recovery, but he’s still listed as critical. The third, I’m afraid hasn’t been up to talking to the police. She’s a bit…shellshocked.”

  Aidan nodded, recalling seeing the story on the news. “I’ve heard about the shooting. Tragic. You think there’s a connection between the swamp and Ms. Carpenter?”

  Christensen exchanged glances with Monroe, then back at Aidan.

  “What the public doesn’t know yet is that the murder scenes do have something vital in common.”

  “We’re listening,” Shaun urged.

  “At each scene, there is a carving of a phrase: ‘The hunt stops here.’”

  Aidan arched a brow. “So he’s hunting his victims?”

  “So it seems,” Monroe agreed.

  “The lieutenant is requesting our assistance, specifically your assistance, in this matter,” Monroe said.

  “We’re at your disposal,” Aidan replied.

  “Appreciate it,” Christensen acknowledged. “I’ll lead you to the body.”

  “Tell us what you know about this murder so far,” Shaun suggested as they walked through the den, to the living room, and finally outside. They made their way down the steps, maneuvering around the police scouring the backyard and wooded area.

  Sitting at a picnic table was a young woman, holding onto her stomach. Her skin pale and greenish and eyes swollen, Aidan feared she would lose whatever it was she ate last.

  “Is that the housekeeper?”

  Christensen nodded. “Brenda is her name. She comes once a week, with today being her day. She arrived, let the black lab outside to do his business, cleaned all up and downstairs, until it was time to bring in the dog. When he didn’t return, she started to go look for him. It was then she saw the vic’s car in the carport.”

  The lieutenant gestured with his head toward the black Toyota Prius. Aidan walked over, glancing through the lightly tinted windows. A dog blanket sat in the backseat, but otherwise, everything was tidy.

  “Apparently, the vic was supposed to be at a work meeting the entire time,” Christensen continued.

  “What led Brenda to search the woods?” Shaun continued the line of questioning as Aidan opened the car door and seated himself in the passenger side. He opened the glove compartment. Nothing but a car manual, a recent receipt for an oil change and Stephanie Carpenter’s auto insurance.

  “The victim was known to take a stroll through the woods whenever she needed time to think,” Christensen replied. “Miss Brenda said it helped clear her head.”

  Aidan, finished with the car, shut the door and they continued to make their way toward where the victim’s body lay.

  “So she began to search. It didn’t take too long to find her. She heard the dog first. It was whining, so she followed the sound. When she found the vic, the dog was lying next to her. We’ve already taken him in for processing in case he has evidence on him.”

  “I’d like one of our analysts to take a look at the dog as well,” Monroe told him.

  “Sure,” Christensen responded.

  “Have you done a background check on the housekeeper?” Aidan asked.

  “Yes,” Christensen said. “She’s attending nursing school at Augusta University. She has high debt, no arrest record.”

  They walked up to the surrounding officers to see the body of Stephanie Carpenter lying on her stomach, face toward her house, with a single gunshot wound in the middle of her back.

  “Good afternoon, agents,” the medical examiner said.

  “Afternoon,” Aidan echoed. “What do you have for us?”

  “At first glance, I’d say s
he died on impact from the gunshot wound. The wound is fresh. She’s not in rigor mortis yet, so she was killed not too long ago, possibly less than three hours ago,”

  “Can you turn her?” Aidan requested.

  Without answering, the medical examiner carefully turned the body to its side so they could see Stephanie’s face.

  The victim was a redhead, average build. She looked young, maybe in her early to mid-thirties. Her clothes were dirty, but not torn. He noted the tan line around her ring finger.

  “Did she have a boyfriend? Husband?”

  “Fiancé,” Christensen answered. “Name’s Chris Jones.”

  “Do we know where she worked?” Shaun asked Christensen.

  “Uh, let’s see…” the lieutenant trailed off as he glanced through his pad. “Briarpatch Academy. She teaches preschool.”

  Aidan wrote the name of the academy in his own pad, as well as the name of her fiancé, then looked to the tree trunk next to the victim.

  “‘The hunt stops here,’” he read underneath his breath. The words itself sent a slight chill up Aidan’s spine, and he shook it off. He turned back to Christensen. “Have your men found anything else useful in the woods?”

  “No,” a sergeant answered as he approached. “It’s almost like searching for a needle in a haystack. It’s unlikely we’ll find anything, but we’ll keep looking.”

  “What about that brush over there?” Aidan pointed.

  The sergeant shook his head.

  “Are there houses nearby?” Shaun asked the sergeant.

  He nodded, pointing toward the hill. “There’s a few on the other side. We’ve questioned them. No one saw or heard anything.”

  “You’ll let us know when the autopsy is ready?” Shaun asked.

  “Of course,” the coroner replied.

  “Thank you.”

  Aidan walked to where the brush was and knelt behind it. Shaun followed.

  “Good spot for a hunter to keep hidden,” Shaun commented.

  “Yes,” Aidan agreed. He removed his flashlight from his belt and shined it underneath the brush. He decided the killer likely took the weapon with him—or her.

  “Let’s go have a few words with the housekeeper,” Aidan said. He rose and carefully stepped down the steep hill until he was again on level ground. He walked to where the housekeeper still sat, her bottom lip trembling, eyes downcast and cheeks stained with mascara mixed tears.

  “Ma’am,” Aidan said.

  She looked up at him, revealing tired, bloodshot eyes.

  Aidan pulled a rusted folding chair closer and sat. Shaun followed his lead.

  “My name is Aidan O’Reilly. This is Shaun Henderson. We’re with the FBI. May I call you Brenda?”

  She blinked with surprise, then nodded slowly. “FBI? Why are you here? I-I mean…”

  “At the moment, we’re here to consult,” Aidan interrupted. It wasn’t the norm for a federal agent to appear at just any crime scene. Usually, they showed up for instances such as terrorist threats, computer crimes, or serial killings. He didn’t want to bring up Lieutenant Christensen’s theory that the murder may be connected to some recent ones, which may hint at possible serial killings. At least not until they’d exhausted all other leads. “I’m told you worked for Ms. Carpenter. For how long?”

  “Three…,” Brenda cleared her throat. “Three years.”

  “So you knew her well?”

  “I didn’t see her very often,” Brenda admitted, “She’s usually at work when I come. But when she was here, we’ve talked about things.”

  “What sort of things?” Shaun asked.

  Brenda hesitated before answering. “Uh, well, we’re fans of the show, Supernatural. We talk about that. And we both love hiking. She and her fiancé just got back from a hiking trip a couple of months ago.”

  “Did she confide in you about problems she may have been facing? Either at work or her personal life?”

  Brenda shook her head. “Not really. She loves her job and is crazy about her fiancé.”

  “When was the last time you saw or spoke to Miss Carpenter?” Aidan wondered.

  “I saw her about two weeks ago. I came to work earlier than usual. I had an appointment that day and wanted to be sure I’d finished work in time.”

  “Did she seem herself?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I mean did she appear anxious, less talkative than normal?”

  Brenda paused as she considered the question. “I don’t think so. I mean no she wasn’t less talkative or anything. She was doing some work in her home office. We talked for a few minutes, then I started cleaning. She left shortly afterward.”

  “What do you know about her fiancé? Have you ever met him?” Shaun inquired.

  “Yes, but it was a long time ago. I don’t remember much about him, but he seemed nice. He’s a partner at Jones and Jones Law.”

  “Does Ms. Carpenter have any other family around?”

  “A sister and a niece,” Brenda replied. “Leanne and Shannon. I’ve seen them over a few times. Usually the niece. She and Miss Stephanie were close.” Brenda’s eyes grew round as realization began to set in once more. “Oh, no. She’s going to be crushed.” Brenda covered her mouth with her hands. “This whole thing…it’s…it’s awful. I think I’m going to get sick again.”

  “I’m very sorry you are having to go through this,” Shaun said earnestly. He exchanged glances with Aidan, offering a brief nod.

  “I believe we have all we need from you…for now,” Aidan said. He fished a card from his wallet and passed it over. “We’ll contact you if we need additional information. And if you remember anything that may be useful, you can give us a call at any time.”

  Brenda accepted the business card, then blinked up at him. “What am I supposed to do now? I need the money. I have nowhere to turn…what am I supposed to do? It’s terrible. How can I be thinking of money like this?” She pressed her thumb and forefinger to her eyelids with a shaky sigh.

  “Go home,” Shaun told her. “Get some rest. You can sort things out later.”

  Aidan rose, and he and Shaun went back inside. He walked through the den and made his way to the bedroom to look around.

  “Think Christensen may be right? That we have a serial killer on our hands?”

  “I hope not,” Aidan said with a frown. “I’m still reeling from the last one. However, the carvings suggest we do. It’d be quite a coincidence that we have two different killers with the same idea.”

  Shaun cursed underneath his breath, then fell silent as they looked through the room.

  The bed was made, furniture dusted with a trace of lemon scent. The carpet was littered with footprints, but he could still see the faint lines from when Brenda had vacuumed before discovering her boss’ body.

  Aidan put on a new pair of gloves as he entered the bedroom. On the nightstand sat a silver frame with the victim and another man. Both were smiling, arms around each other’s waists. Behind them were large hills, the red and orange spilling over the horizon. The words, Smoky Mountains ’16 was inscribed at the bottom of the frame.

  Aidan pulled the drawer open, finding a Bible, scrap pieces of paper, and a stack of what looked to be letters.

  He took the letters out and thumbed through them. Nothing seemed to be useful—just letters written from one lover to another.

  Still, they could enter them into evidence. Whenever a person is killed, the first step is to always dig deeper into the victim’s life. It would give investigators a sense of life before death and learn more about the writer of the letters and their relationship with the victim.

  People are known to kill over the smallest of things. Often, those times would be involuntary or in the heat of arguments, but not all. Aidan could tell immediately that Stephanie Carpenter’s murder was premeditated. It wasn’t a close-up shot. Aidan wasn’t an expert on weaponry by any means, but he had seen his share of bullet wounds. The weapon that ended Stephanie’s life
was likely a shotgun of sorts, made to destroy.

  Aidan swept through the bedroom once more, then the remaining parts of the house. There was nothing yet that may give insight as to why Stephanie Carpenter fell victim to murder.

  Her home office was complete with papers and documents, all from her work as a preschool teacher at Briarpatch Academy. Shaun had tapped the keyboard of her computer, and a password prompt popped up. He requested for an officer to gather the machine and cords to have a technician to get inside.

  As far as Aidan could tell, Stephanie was a good woman, loved children, and was loved in return. Her refrigerator was wallpapered with drawings from her students.

  Finding even a shred of a dirty past would make his job too easy, too simple.

  Then again, murder was never simple.

  4

  “CAN YOU RECOUNT for us the last time you spoke to Ms. Carpenter?” Aidan asked after he settled in the chair inside Chris Jones’ office.

  Stephanie Carpenter’s fiancé leaned forward against his desk, folding his hands on the surface. A faded old scar ran along his knuckles. He frowned, looking at the silver frame sitting on the corner by the monitor. Aidan noticed it was the same photo he’d seen on Stephanie’s bedside.

  “It was just last night,” Jones answered, finally. “How can it be possible that she’s dead?”

  “Mind accounting for us what you did?” Aidan pressed.

  Jones shook his head. “Nothing negative between us, Agent O’Reilly. You don’t think I’d kill my fiancé? I loved her. How could I ever think of killing her?”

  “We’re not making accusations,” Shaun assured him. “You’re a lawyer. I’m sure you understand we only want to trace her footsteps.”

  “Yes, of course, Agents. My apologies. I didn’t mean to get defensive.”

  “Why don’t you walk us through what you and your fiancé did last night?”

  “We had a dinner date downtown, then window shopped. She wanted to go into David’s Bridal and look at the gowns. Steph and I have been engaged for the last year. I think she was giving me a hint that she wanted to start talking about our wedding.”