I Can Kill: An FBI Thriller (The O'Reilly Files Book 1) Page 23
“My daughter,” Mrs. Rivers repeated. “He killed her.”
“Who?” Aidan asked again.
She shook her head, whimpering. “I can’t, I can’t!” Mrs. Rivers grabbed a fistful of her silver hair and pulled. She rocked her body, a moan escaping her lips.
“Who killed your daughter?” Aidan pressed her.
She kept her head covered in her hands when she answered: “He did. My son.”
“Your son?” Shaun echoed. “Do you know why he did?”
“She tried to warn me. I didn’t listen,” Mrs. Rivers wailed. Her words quivered as she spoke, a mixture of fear and age. “I should have listened. And now, now he’s going to kill me.”
“Why would he want to kill you?” Aidan asked.
She didn’t answer.
“What’s your son’s name?” Aidan pressed.
She lifted her head and Aidan saw the tears fall from her eyes as she continued to moan.
Fiona knelt next to her, putting a hand on the elderly woman’s knee.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Rivers,” Fiona said. She turned to Aidan. “I think that’s enough for now. She needs to rest.”
After a hesitation, Shaun put his hand on Aidan's shoulder, and when he looked at him, he motioned with a tilt of his head that it was time for them to go.
Aidan frowned but followed until Mrs. Rivers spoke again. He needed to strain to hear what she was saying.
“He was born evil. But he was my son. I didn’t see it. Not until he hit me with the knife.” She paused, another tear sliding down her cheeks. She rocked back and forth, hugging herself. “Georgia told me he needed help. So we took him to a psychiatrist. But it didn’t help.”
“What did you do with him after that?” Shaun asked.
“We put him in a boarding school, but they kicked him out.” Each word seemed to cause her more pain. “Then we put him in the hospital. He said he was going to kill us. He hated us so much. I just wanted to love him. He called me. Said it was done. I went over. I saw her laying there. He killed her!”
“What’s your son’s name?” Aidan asked her again. He knelt by her side. “Tell me.”
She moaned softly before speaking. “Grant.”
She reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out a photo. She stared at it before passing it to Aidan.
Shaun and Aidan looked at the face of a young boy. He looked to be four years old. Aidan could see the smile on his face, but there appeared to be darkness in his eyes.
There was something familiar about him. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Do you have a picture of your son that’s more recent?”
“Burned,” she whispered. “I burned them all. Except that one. He was happy then. He was happy. I wanted him happy.”
“Do you know if there was any significance about your son and carnations?”
Mrs. Rivers shook her head, her eyes toward the window.
“Thank you, Mrs. Rivers,” Aidan said. He squeezed her arm gently before pushing to his feet.
Shaun and Aidan walked outside where they thanked Fiona for her assistance, and they left the retirement center.
70
JORDAN TRIED TO focus on the latest Playboy issue, but he couldn't. His mind was on Duke, his beloved dog he’d taken care of ever since his dad died. He’d always loved him and couldn't imagine what his life would be without Duke.
After the agents left last night, Jordan buried him next to the doghouse and set a few bricks over the grave to make sure an animal wouldn’t break into the yard and start digging him out. He also created a headstone and set it at the head of the grave.
Next to burying his dad, it was the worst thing he ever had to do.
He called his mother to tell her what had happened. That was the second worst thing he did. Jordan and his mother hadn’t spoken since his dad’s funeral. But for some reason, he needed her at that time.
She seemed as though she was apologetic, but he couldn’t tell. He never could tell with her. His mother was always wishy-washy when it came to him. And it almost never failed that he wished he never picked up the phone.
Almost immediately, she changed the subject, telling him she’d seen him on the news and she was very proud of him.
Proud.
Was she really?
He spent his entire life trying to make people proud of him: his mother, his uncle, his grandparents.
The only person whoever breezed into Jordan’s life that seemed to be truly proud was his dad. But he’d died of cancer.
His dad had always told him to shoot for the stars. That he could be and do anything he wanted.
He closed the magazine and tossed it on the floor next to him with a frustrated groan.
Rubbing his eyelids, Jordan tried to recall the events leading to the murder of his dog.
He’d gotten home shortly after filming the segment the agents wanted him to do, then The Carnations Killer called him. He told him he knew the report was only meant to trap him. Then he told Jordan there was a present waiting outside for him.
When he walked outside, he saw Duke’s body.
How did the killer know it was a trap?
Why didn’t Duke bark? Did he not get the chance to fight for his life?
Normally, Duke wasn’t accustomed to strangers.
Jordan took a swig of his Michelob, rose from his chair and made a beeline for the back door.
It was dark, so maybe Duke didn’t see the killer in the shadows.
No.
That wasn’t it.
Duke didn’t bark.
He knew that was the key.
Whoever the killer was knew where Jordan lived, and he knew he had a dog. He knew Duke would have torn him to pieces if he’d approached.
So it made sense Duke knew the killer.
There was a very small handful of people who would have been able to get close enough to Duke to kill him.
His uncle was one, but he wouldn’t hurt the dog, would he? He was very fond of Duke. At least that was what he’d always said.
Jordan clutched the neck of his beer bottle as his mind once again ran through the night his dog was murdered.
Duke was innocent. He didn’t deserve it.
And neither did those women for that matter.
The Carnations Killer now had Agent O’Reilly’s girlfriend.
And he started thinking he might know where to find her. Or at least how.
Jordan considered calling Agent O’Reilly but decided against it. If he was right, then he wanted The Carnations Killer all to himself.
If he was right, then he could be the hero by saving the woman and get justice for Duke at the same time.
Jordan threw the beer bottle across the room, screaming as loud as his voice could muster. Upon impact, the leftover liquid splattered against the wall and along the furniture.
There was only one person whom he’d confided in about what really happened during the FBI interview.
And that person murdered his dog.
71
AS SHAUN WORKED on aging the photo they kept from Mrs. Rivers, Aidan contacted the Troubled Teens of North Carolina.
The director of the boot camp was Kyle Laurel.
He’d worked with teens for fifty years, and he remembered Grant well. According to Mr. Laurel, Grant came into the program when he’d turned fourteen years old. His mother and father didn’t know how to handle him. He’d been getting in trouble in school and at home.
“I always felt sorry for the poor kid,” Mr. Laurel told Aidan. “He went from foster home to foster home at a very young age, and when the Rivers finally adopted him, they immediately wanted to be rid of him because he was too much of a problem child.”
“Did he ever cause you trouble?”
Mr. Laurel paused.
“Grant came to us broken. He kept to himself most of the time and was often picked on for being too skinny. He also had trouble seeing. That was part of the problem. Grant tended to be clumsy,
couldn't see at a distance. When we realized it, we took him to an eye doctor who issued him glasses. Unfortunately, it only added to being picked on even more.”
“His file states he was kicked out of the program,” Aidan told him. “But it doesn’t say why. Only that he was a risk.”
“He’d begun to get into fights with the other kids. We tried to prevent it, but when he tried to cut a little girl with a kitchen knife, I knew we couldn’t keep him. He was growing increasingly dangerous to others. I just couldn't risk the lives of others.”
“He went after a girl?”
“Yes,” Mr. Laurel replied. “She tattled on him once—we have pets in order to give a sense of normalcy and he’d kick them around purposefully. Sometimes they’d have to be taken to the vet for a broken leg. I remember asking him why he wanted to hurt the girl. He told me he needed to kill her for getting him in trouble.”
“Do you remember what this girl looked like?”
“Pretty, she had blonde, curly hair.”
“Blonde hair,” Aidan muttered. His sister also was blonde. As were his victims. “Is there anything else that you remember, Mr. Laurel?”
“After he left the program, I think he was sent to the hospital to have behavioral tests done on him.” Mr. Laurel sucked in a deep breath and pushed it out. “I wish I could have done more for him. He just needed the same as all kids do—to know that he was loved. But Grant was broken.”
“Okay, I appreciate your time,” Aidan said.
Ending the call, Aidan walked over to Shaun’s desk. He began to tell him about the conversation, but it didn’t seem as though he was paying attention.
“Are you even listening to me?” Aidan asked him.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Shaun said.
“What is it?”
When Shaun leaned back and pointed to the screen, Aidan walked around the desk to take a look.
His heart skipped a few beats.
Shaun had finished aging the photo of the four-year-old boy.
And they knew him.
But they didn’t know him as Grant Rivers.
They knew him as Kent Ory.
72
AIDAN FOUND AN empty chair and rolled it to Shaun’s desk as he pulled up Kent’s background information.
The cameraman first appeared in 1997, three years after Grant Rivers left the mental hospital. During the first three years, he’d been arrested for assault with a deadly weapon twice. After he assumed the name of Kent Ory, he’d attended college and graduated with honors as a photography major.
He traveled across the United States taking photos for magazines and travel blogs until he met Jordan Blake in 2005. Soon after, he accepted the job as the reporter’s cameraman, which provided him another cover to be able to travel the states and continue his killing spree.
“It makes sense,” Shaun told Aidan. “He fits your profile. Man, he’s been right under our noses the entire time.”
“And he’s virtually invisible,” Aidan added. “Your everyday nice guy. Cheyenne and I saw him at the grocery store not too long ago.”
Shaun looked over at him. “What happened?’
“Nothing,” Aidan said. “He was talking to Cheyenne when I walked up. He apologized to me for the way Jordan Blake had been acting. He seemed sickened by how those women were treated. I never even suspected a thing.”
Aidan cursed.
“Calm down, buddy,” Shaun said as he rose. “He’d been at this for almost twenty years. He snowed us all.”
Aidan knew he was right, but he couldn't help but be angry at himself for not seeing the answer when he stared him right in the face.
They left the office for WJFX in hopes of finding Kent.
They didn’t, but found themselves inside the conference room speaking with Thomas Blake.
Aidan asked Thomas what he knew about Kent.
“He’s a good guy,” he replied. “Very kind, charming. Dedicated to his job. And he’s a great husband and father.”
“Have you ever seen Kent lash out? Has he ever threatened anyone?”
Thomas narrowed his eyes with a scoff. “Kent? Oh, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s quiet. Very mellow. If I had a son, I’d want him to be just like him. I was glad when he and Jordan became friends. Kent's a good role model. And to think of everything he has been through in his life—well, I admire the kid.”
“What has he been through?” Shaun asked.
They were curious about what Kent had been telling his peers. Aidan figured he told juicy stories that were enough of the truth to be believable, but also to draw out sympathy.
“Well,” Thomas said with a sigh, “he’d been to several foster homes by the time he was three. No one seemed to want him until he was finally adopted. Eventually, his sister was brutally murdered by her boyfriend, I think it was. And his adoptive parents were killed in a car accident shortly after that. He was only seventeen back then.”
Thomas sat back in his chair.
“Why are you suddenly interested in Kent? You don’t think he’s involved in these murders, do you?”
Ignoring the question, Aidan asked, “Has he or your nephew ever mentioned the name Grant Rivers?”
“No,” Thomas said, his eyes narrowed. “Who’s he?”
“Kent’s birth name,” Shaun replied. He explained Grant had been in foster care, his sister murdered, and his adoptive father killed five years prior.
Aidan added that Grant was arrested for assault twice in the following three years after being released from the hospital, and told him Kent Ory first arose shortly after that time.
After they finished speaking, Thomas let the information sink in before he slowly shook his head. “I don’t believe you. He’s a good man. He’s Jordan’s best friend and he has a lovely family.”
“I’m afraid it’s true,” Shaun replied. “We came from visiting his adoptive mother in a retirement center. She’s living the remainder of her life in fear that her son will come to murder her.”
Aidan told him how Kent had been everywhere since the murders began, how Jordan was so adamant Duke didn't bark before he was killed.
Thomas frowned. “Jordan always kept Duke outside because he hated strangers. There were only a few people he was accustomed to.”
“Was Kent one of them?” Shaun asked.
With hesitation, Thomas nodded, his lip turning to a frown.
Aidan set the photo of the eight-year-old and the aged printout of Kent on the table.
“Does he look familiar?”
Thomas gazed at the two photos before cursing underneath his breath. He ran his hand over his face and sighed.
“Do you know where we can find Kent?” Aidan asked.
Thomas shook his head. “No, I don’t. But his wife might.”
Aidan handed him a sheet of paper and told him to write Kent’s address down. Then they thanked him for his time and left the news station.
73
BEFORE GOING TO Kent Ory’s home, they waited for a search warrant. Then, with a team of federal agents, they arrived at the two-story house, which stood at the end of a cul-de-sac and knocked on the door. A second later, a little girl holding onto the neck of a purple bear appeared in the frame.
“Hi,” Aidan said, attempting to flash her a friendly smile. “Are your parents home?”
“Mommy!” she shouted over her shoulder.
When her mother appeared, Aidan explained to her who they were and asked if they could come inside. With a frown, she allowed them entry and told her daughter to go to her room and play.
Once they were settled in the living area, Kent’s wife asked what it was they needed. Aidan handed her the warrant and she took it, staring at the document with a frown. Looking up, she watched as the agents began searching the house.
“Do you know where your husband is?” Aidan asked her.
Her eyebrows were knitted together, and her mouth hung open slightly. She swallowed hard. “Why? What’s going on?”
“We have a few questions for him.”
“I’d say he’s working. He’s a cameraman for Jordan Blake at WJFX News.”
“We have suspicions that he may somehow be involved in the murders of two women and the kidnappings of two more,” Shaun informed her.
“What?” Mrs. Ory’s eyes grew round. Then she did something unexpected: burst into tears. “Oh, Kent. What have you done?”
“Ma’am?” Shaun asked. “Do you know something we should know?”
“No. I mean, yes. I don’t know.” She lowered herself onto the couch and put her head in her hands. Her body began to shiver slightly. Aidan sat next to her.
“If there’s anything you do know, Mrs. Ory, now’s the time to say.” Aidan kept his voice as compassionate as he could. He didn’t want to spook her if she was involved or if she was only looking the other way because she loved her husband. Maybe he held something over her and she was afraid of him.
There wasn’t a way to know unless she talked.
“I don’t know anything,” Mrs. Ory said. “It’s impossible, right? I’ve known Kent for years. He couldn’t have done any of these things. My husband’s a good man.”
“But you think something's off with him,” Aidan pressed.
“What can you tell us about Kent?” Shaun sat on the opposite side of her.
Mrs. Ory set her head in her hands again and sobbed a few seconds more.
“A few years ago, we were on vacation in New York, then the following year he was in Texas. Women died in both states. The news reports said it was The Carnations Killer. I began to wonder about it. It wasn’t the first time The Carnations Killer appeared when we were there. A feeling grew inside of me. I mentioned it to him. He laughed it off and said it was only a terrible coincidence. So, I just let it go.”
“Had he given you any other reasons that he may have committed these murders?”
She shook her head. “I loved him. He’s not the killing type. He doesn’t look like it, he doesn’t act like it. He volunteers for others. He doesn’t even get angry. Why would I believe the man I married is a killer? I made a child with him, for goodness sake.”