I Can Hunt: An FBI Thriller (The O'Reilly Files Book 2) Page 4

  “She seemed popular,” Aidan noted.

  “Yes,” Shaun agreed softly as he inspected the drawings behind the desk. “We should get a list of the students’ parents in case one of them had a vendetta against her.”

  Aidan made no reply as he heard the footsteps around the corner. He turned in time to see a woman about the same height as the victim, her brown curls bouncing softly against her broad shoulders. She smiled at them; however, Aidan noticed the gleam of sadness in her eyes. Either she was going through personal difficulties, or she already had an inkling they were about to give her bad news.

  “I’m Alexandria Reeves,” she said softly, with a hint of a southern accent. “I’m told you needed to speak with me?”

  Aidan glanced behind her at the receptionist, who only shrugged, then looked away. “Is there a place where we can talk in private?”

  “This is about Stephanie, isn’t it?” Alexandria sniffled, her eyes shining with the threat of tears. “Something’s happened. I knew it. It was just a feeling.”

  “Let’s talk in private,” Shaun suggested smoothly.

  After Alexandria gave instructions for Kirk to keep her students occupied, and the FBI agents clipped the required visitor tags on their lapels, she led them down a long hallway, and into an empty classroom.

  “Miss Reeves,” Shaun began, “I’m sorry to inform you that Stephanie Carpenter was found dead early this morning.”

  “No,” Alexandria breathed. She dropped into one of the chairs placed along the wall of the classroom. A few tears escaped down her cheeks as she hung her head. “Oh, my goodness.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to Stephanie?” Aidan asked.

  “Yesterday at work,” Alexandria replied, her voice cracking. She looked up and stared out the classroom windows, working to keep herself in control, though Aidan recognized the despair in her eyes.

  “How did she appear to you? Was she happy? Upset?”

  “Everything was great.” Alexandria sniffed and looked up, peering at Aidan, her eyes brimming with tears. “We were discussing the meeting for this morning. And making plans to go out for drinks tonight. What happened to her?”

  Exchanging glances with his partner, Aidan said, “She was shot in the back. The housekeeper found her in the woods behind her house.”

  “Oh, my…who would do such a thing?”

  “Forgive me for asking,” Shaun said slowly, “But you seemed to know something happened to her. How?”

  Alexandria cleared her throat. “She was my best friend. We were like sisters. We’ve known each other a long, long time. Since the fourth grade.” She let out a weak laugh. “After we graduated high school, we lost touch for a while. She moved away and I stayed. When Steph moved back, we ran into each other at a store. It was like we hadn’t lost time. At the time Stephanie was working for her father’s firm. But she wanted something different. I got her a teaching position here and Steph never looked back. She quit the job at the firm and began working here full time.”

  Alexandria paused, drawing in a long, shaky breath.

  “Steph’s whole life was working with kids. It was what allowed her to be herself. The only time she missed a day of work was when her father was sick. And even then, I had a feeling I’d needed to arrange my schedule so I could cover her class, she’d do the same for me in a heartbeat.”

  “Do you know if she had enemies?”

  Alexandria shook her head. “The kids and parents all love her. She’s definitely a parent favorite.”

  “Miss Carpenter was a lawyer, right? How long ago did she leave her father’s firm?” Shaun asked.

  Alexandria leaned against the desk with another sigh. “Almost two years ago now. She was going to celebrate her decision next month.”

  “Do you know what her relationship was with her coworkers at the firm? Her relationship with her father?”

  Alexandria shook her head. “It’s not what you think. Steph left on good terms. Her dad only wanted her to be happy. They were extremely close. She just got tired of dealing with criminals. For a while, she considered moving into a different aspect of the law. But it didn’t take long for her to realize being a lawyer wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. She and her dad had always been close, and he supported every decision she made. Last year after her dad had his stroke, she and her sister had to place him in an assisted living home. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t care for him the way he needed caring for. Steph visited him every day. Now, he’s got Alzheimer’s and it’s progressing quickly. He started to forget who Steph was. It tore her up.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Shaun said. He paused a beat. “What do you know about her fiancé or other friends?”

  Again, Alexandria shook her head. “She kept only a few people close. Really, her life was more about taking care of her dad and these students. She was introverted, and she liked it that way. Her fiancé, Chris, is a good guy. He could have been more interested in wanting to set a wedding date, but I suppose that’s just the woman in me. She’d keep in contact with a few of her former lawyer acquaintances, but not often.”

  “Did you know Chris Jones’ father?”

  Alexandria shook her head. “I knew of him, but personally, no. I do know they got along like oil and water, mostly about her job choice. But that happens between in-laws and in-laws to be. I understand all too well.”

  “What about Stephanie’s dad?” Aidan wondered. “Could there be someone who would have wanted to hurt him by hurting her?”

  Alexandria paused as she considered the question. “Her dad did have dealings with a lot of dangerous people. It’s possible, I guess. I’m afraid I don’t know much about their clients. She never discussed her work at the firm.”

  “I’m going to show you some photos,” Aidan said. “I’d like you to take a careful look at them and tell us if you recognize any of these people.”

  Alexandria looked at each photo carefully before she frowned and admitted she didn’t recognize them, other than hearing about them from the news.

  “Is there anything else you can think of that may be of help?”

  Alexandria bit into her trembling lips as fresh tears fell from the corner of her eyes. Unable to speak, she shook her head.

  “Thank you for your time, Miss Reeves,” Aidan said. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Aidan led the way out of the classroom. As Shaun shut the door behind him, Aidan glanced through the window to see Alexandria’s head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed for her friend.

  6

  THE HUNTER SET the emerald ring he had pried off of his recent victim’s finger on top of the fireplace’s mantle. He admired the shine of the diamonds surrounding the stone, sparkling, even in the dim light of his den.

  “Beautiful,” he muttered to himself. “Everything is going according to plan.”

  With a smile, he went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and chose a bottle of Bud Light. The hunter used the tail of his shirt to twist the cap off and toss it into the sink, then he chugged the liquid down, his throat burning for the taste of alcohol. His stomach rumbled letting him know it was time to eat, so he made himself a ham and cheese sandwich before walking to his TV, switching it on to a news station. They were still talking about the shooting of the three high school students at Phinizy Swamp. So far, the police didn’t know anything. He switched to another news station, then another. The scrolling ticker at the bottom read, Woman shot to death in own backyard.

  The hunter decided later in the day, there would be more to the story. The police, he knew, were smarter than they’d let on. They always were.

  In the background, he’d noticed two FBI agents walking toward the camera to their car. They weren’t just any agents. The hunter recognized them as Shaun Henderson and Aidan O’Reilly. He’d seen their faces before and heard their names, but it wasn’t until he performed a search on the internet that he’d learned O’Reilly and Henderson were the agents who arr
ested The Carnations Killer several months ago. The hunter found himself pleased they were the ones brought into the investigation. The Carnations Killer was brutal. He’d kidnapped and murdered more than fifty women, even pulled one of the agents—O’Reilly—into his game. During the trial, Grant Rivers kept his cool demeanor. He didn’t testify. Of course, that was likely the lawyer’s decision. It was often best to not tell your side of the story. The hunter went to a few of the trials. He took notice of the twelve jurors. Several were The Carnations Killer’s type—blonde, good looking, in good shape. Even still, it was obvious the jury seemed to lean toward Rivers. That was until the final witness told her side of the story.

  Cheyenne Richards did not fit the profile. She was the girlfriend of one of the agents. Rivers had done quite a number on her. She’d been wheeled to the witness stand, a spark of fear flashing across her eyes as she dared to glance toward her assailant. Her story was what had convinced the jury Grant Rivers belonged behind bars.

  How amazing it was, the hunter mused, that a single person could change the mind of twelve people.

  Grant Rivers was now facing the death penalty. It was such a sad thing, really. He was a brilliant man.

  The hunter admired the ones who had managed to elude capture for so long and took notes of the mistakes they made. The hunter had business to attend to, so mistakes were not something he planned on making.

  He switched off the television and moved to the basement, where he spent most of his days working.

  Opening the door, a rush of cool air greeted him, and he walked down the steps, the last rung giving way to a soft creak. The basement was bare, except for a long, rectangular desk, a pegboard hanging above it, and the gun cabinet nestled in the corner.

  A cot with an old blue blanket rested by one wall of the room.

  Sometimes, when he worked late, he didn’t feel much like going upstairs to his bed, so the cot, as uncomfortable as it was, sufficed.

  He wasn’t a man who needed much. The hunter had been in worse places, had slept in worse places, and had eaten worse food. He’d been an insomniac for the last couple of years, ever since he found out the truth. When he did sleep, it was no more than two hours at a time.

  Especially when he was fueled by his strategic planning to make things right again.

  The hunter stopped by the backup freezer and opened it. The coldness greeted him, and he found himself staring into a face, the eyes still open, and the skin of its neck jagged from where it was sawed off. The blood at the edges was thick and frozen. Sometimes he wished he’d kept the entire body, but at least the head would allow the corpse to monitor the hunter’s progress. He chuckled at his macabre joke.

  Leaving the freezer door open, the hunter walked to his desk and dropped his plate on the surface but held onto his sandwich. Taking a bite, he studied the pegboard. The face of Stephanie Carpenter stared back at him through the red X streaked across the photo. His eyes followed the red string leading to the photos of Braxton and his brother, Stevie, both looking at something off-camera. The hunter removed the thumbtack from the pictures and on each, X’d them out.

  “It’ll come to an end soon,” he said to the empty room, maybe even speaking to the head in the freezer. “Everything will be right again. I promise.”

  He tore off a piece of his sandwich with his teeth as he lowered himself to his chair. The hunter booted up the computer, logged on, then opened a new Word document. He glanced down at the baseball card and GI Joe toy he acquired from the boys, words of what he wished to type flowing in his mind.

  With a smile, his fingers began to run across the keyboard.

  It took only a few minutes for him to finish, then he reread what he’d written.

  Here I give two riddles to solve, this hunt, to you, I shall devolve:

  I am a collectible of America's past time. Peanuts and Cracker Jacks, I eat here. They are a favorite of mine.

  I am a soldier, a toy, if you will. My name is three letters, I’m a government-issued thrill.

  Satisfied, the hunter finished his lunch and gathered the items he needed. He closed the freezer door, went up the stairs, then locked the basement behind him. After ensuring he’d done all he needed in the house, he walked outside, locked the door, and made his way to his car. An elderly couple busied themselves planting a rose garden near the road. Otherwise, no one was outside. The old woman smiled and waved to him, and he responded in kind.

  Their German Shepherd, chained by the porch post rose to his feet, barking, his white teeth snarling, hungry to attack the hunter.

  “Hush, Lucy,” the woman said to the dog, her voice frail.

  “How are you folks doing today, Mr. and Mrs. Sherman?” he called out.

  “Quite fine, young man,” Mrs. Sherman said. Her husband didn’t make a response, only urged his wife to go into the house with him. “Forgive Lucy, I surely don’t know what gets into her.”

  “No problem, Mrs. Sherman. You folks have a great day,” the hunter said.

  “You too, young man,” Mrs. Sherman replied. “Stop, Herman, can’t you be friendly for once?”

  “Quiet now,” her husband hissed, not bothering with keeping his voice low. “I don’t want you talking to that man.”

  “Why ever not, Herman? He is our neighbor, after all.”

  Opening the car door, the hunter slid behind the wheel, the bickering drowning out when he shut the door.

  It was time to make contact.

  7

  SHAUN RAPPED HIS knuckles on the door, then they waited until it opened, revealing a young blonde, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. One strap of her blue jean overalls hung down. She didn’t wear shoes, instead, her toes were nestled in foam dividers and all but the little toe on her left foot were freshly painted pink. She bore a slight resemblance to Stephanie Carpenter, enough to tell Adrian she was a close member of the family.

  “Hey, sorry, it’s hard to walk when I have these things between my toes. Can I help you?” she said with a brief smile. Her eyes skimmed her visitors until resting on Aidan’s badge. “What is the FBI doing here?”

  “We apologize for the intrusion,” Shaun began. “I’m Agent Henderson. This is Agent O’Reilly. Are you Shannon Baxter?”

  “No,” she said, “I’m her mother. Leanne. What do you want with my daughter?”

  “May we come inside for a few moments?” Aidan asked. “I’m afraid something’s happened that we need to discuss with you.”

  Her eyes widened in a panic and she said, “What? What’s happened? Is Shannon all right?”

  “No, no, ma’am,” Shaun assured her. “Your daughter’s fine. It’s your sister, Stephanie Carpenter.”

  “Stephanie? What’s going on? Is she all right?”

  “I think it’s best if we discuss this inside,” Aidan urged.

  “Oh, of course. I’m so sorry, come on in.”

  “Thank you,” Aidan said, offering a brief smile.

  They followed Leanne down the short hallway, and when she reached the kitchen, she turned and offered them something to drink. Both declined, so they made their way to the living room.

  Aidan and Shaun sat on the plush couch while Leanne chose the rocking chair. She crossed her legs before speaking.

  “You asked about my daughter. Why would two FBI agents appear at my doorstep asking to speak to my daughter about my sister?”

  “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this,” Shaun began, “But your sister was found dead earlier this morning.”

  Leanne’s face fell as she gaped at Shaun. The room seemed to grow cold as the minutes passed. Aidan asked if she was all right, but she didn’t answer.

  “I-I’m so sorry,” she finally spat out. “A-a-are you sure it’s her?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Aidan confirmed, “She was killed in the woods behind her house.”

  “That can’t be. I mean, I-I just talked to her.” She shook her head with unbelief. “Y-y-you’re telling me she was killed? Like murdered? Wh
o would do such a thing?”

  “That’s what we intend on finding out,” Shaun promised. “You said you spoke to your sister recently?”

  Leanne nodded. “Last night. She was ranting about something. I was usually her ear to listen. I helped her calm down. We hung up around eleven, I think.”

  “What was she upset about?” Shaun asked.

  “Oh, nothing much. It’s the same old thing. Steph was constantly upset that her fiancé’s father kept ragging on her about being a preschool teacher instead of a lawyer. I told her to ignore it. As long as she was happy with her life choices and with Chris, that’s all that mattered.

  “Do you know why Mr. Jones was insistent on her being a lawyer?” Aidan wondered.

  “The Jones family comes from a strong line of lawyers. He’s one, his wife’s one, both of their parents were lawyers. It pleased Mr. Jones when Chris started dating Stephanie. I think in high school, he dated someone who planned on going to school for her anthropology doctorate or something like that. They broke up and a couple of years later, Chris and Stephanie met at law school.” Leanne shook her head. “Her heart wasn’t into law. She tried to make it work. She thought it was what our dad wanted for us. But he had encouraged us both we needed to do what made us happy. At the firm, she just wasn’t happy. Then she found her love in teaching the young kids.”

  “Was she happy in her relationship with Chris Jones?”

  “Very much. It was like they were born for each other. Chris had a little bit of his dad in him, meaning he cared strongly about his work as a lawyer. But he supported her decision to leave the practice.”

  “You said that your sister wasn’t happy working at your father’s firm ‘anymore,’” Aidan began as he continued to scrawl notes in his pad, “Was there a reason for that?”