I Can Kill: An FBI Thriller (The O'Reilly Files Book 1) Page 5

  “Are you guys hungry?” Cheyenne asked when she pulled away. “Supper’s ready for whenever.”

  “Starved,” Laura and Aidan responded in unison.

  They ushered themselves to the kitchen, then afterward while the girls washed the dishes, Aidan turned in early in hopes to get some rest.

  11

  AIDAN walked into the building early Saturday morning although he technically tried to take weekends off. He knew Shaun wanted him to take the break; however, Aidan decided his mind would be on the murder anyway. So, he figured he may as well look into it some more in an effort to forget the many dreams that had come to haunt him the night before.

  Aidan had nightmares all too often regarding The Carnations Killer murders. They always seemed to seize his mind, keeping him swept in the middle of the visions that would flash before him. The dreams seemed real to him. They always did.

  When Aidan would wake from them, he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. And if he didn’t wake, he’d walk around all day feeling the restlessness.

  Aidan had long ago decided he was living proof that demons didn't come in the form of a little red man with horns and a pitchfork.

  They came from the things people see, the terrifying thoughts that seemed to enslave them because there comes a time when a melting point is reached.

  And when that time came, it could be too late.

  But it wasn’t possible to unsee the things of this world.

  They haunted the mind, so it would be impossible to forget them.

  Sometimes the memories of the dreams and the memories of real life merged together, and Aidan would wake, wondering if it was real; or if he was awake, he’d wonder if he was dreaming.

  He rubbed his eyes, trying to force his dreams away from memory.

  It didn’t work. It never did.

  His dreams were always the same: he would feel The Carnations Killer watching every move he made. He'd watch as Aidan investigated the bodies that'd pile up from Sherry Finch, the first victim, to Maya Gibson, the newest. Their faces, their shells—they'd come at him and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

  It made it difficult to breathe, and Aidan wanted it to end.

  He would hear him taunting from somewhere in the distance, his voice garbled so he wouldn't later be able to tell who the speaker was.

  I can kill, and you can't catch me.

  His last words to Aidan ten years ago echoed against his memories.

  At some point, the bodies would turn to face him, their eyes dead, blood dripping from the ends of their blonde hairs. Their pale faces outlined in the night and they each reached their hands out to him, blood dripping from the wounds on their wrists. He’d try to pull away, but they kept drawing him closer.

  Magnet to metal.

  Calling to him.

  Telling him he failed them. And that he’d fail Maya as well.

  All the while, The Carnations Killer’s laughter resonated in the night.

  I can kill, and you can't catch me.

  Aidan shook his head, hoping to shake loose the images swimming in his mind. He realized he stopped walking and was leaning against the wall. A few agents walking by glanced at him, but only nodded their heads in acknowledgment.

  Aidan spotted Monroe heading to her office, her high heels clunking softly on the thin carpet.

  “Good press release last night, boss,” he called to her.

  She stopped and looked his way.

  “Agent O’Reilly.” Monroe made a beeline toward him. “You’re here early. And on a Saturday. I trust you were able to get some sleep last night?”

  Aidan nodded. “Enough.”

  Aidan had always kept the power of his dreams to himself. He didn't want to be deemed as mentally incapacitated. Those close to him knew he tended to get insomnia, especially when his mind was fixated on a certain subject. But as long as he looked like himself and could do his job, it wasn't an issue, so he didn't like to announce his night troubles.

  “Very good,” she replied stoically. “Before I left last night, I had a few words with Hansford about you. Some end to your vacation, huh?”

  Aidan laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Well, I can't seem to stay away for too long.”

  She smiled. “That's why we chose the career we're in, I suppose. I trust you’re finding everything okay?”

  He told her everything was great.

  “Very well. If there’s anything I can do, my door’s always open. I'll let you get to it. I have a mountain of paperwork to go through myself before my meeting with Zane.”

  She patted his shoulder as they parted ways.

  Aidan noticed Shaun stepping off the elevator, so he waited for him.

  “I just got back from the lab,” Shaun announced.

  “Yeah?”

  “The only print on the envelope and card was Jordan Blake's and Kent Ory's. And there's no trace of a text message sent to Blake's cell phone.”

  “Why doesn't that surprise me?” Aidan asked as they continued the short distance to his cubicle.

  He lowered himself into his chair and Shaun grabbed another from nearby and rolled it over.

  “So, he still wants to cover his tracks,” Aidan muttered, leaning back into his chair. “We know our offender is most likely a white male. He gets off from torturing people—like many serial offenders, he likely started as a young kid torturing and killing animals. Then when he got bored, he began searching for women of interest. He knows his technology. He uses burners and knows how to remotely delete any trace of a text. The big kicker is that he uses a taser on his victims and leaves the carnations.”

  Aidan paused as he stared at his desk littered with files of other victims. It held too many faces.

  “And over the last ten years,” he continued, mostly to himself, “he’s killed women from all over the United States. So he very likely has a job that travels from state to state.”

  “Why do you think he chooses women?” Shaun asked. “He never rapes them. He just beats them and then strangles them.”

  “Maybe a woman—possibly a good-looking blonde—wronged him when he was a kid. Maybe his mother beat him. Or maybe his mother abandoned him.” Aidan leaned over his desk, clasping his hands together. “Or he just hates blonde women and feels powerful when he’s hurting them. Have you looked over the recent customers for Downward Dog?”

  Shaun put the list on the desk and pushed it toward him.

  “Ah-ha. Glad you asked.” Shaun’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Guess who started attending three weeks ago.”

  Aidan scanned the list of names, using his index finger as a guide. Muttering to himself, he stopped at a name on the second page.

  Well.

  It seemed they found a person of interest: Jordan Blake.

  12

  Shaun AND AIDAN waited with patience in the conference room at the WJFX News Station for Thomas Blake to locate his nephew. In the meantime, Aidan reviewed the list, trying to draw out a few other possibilities, but so far, their news reporter friend was the most viable.

  He looked up when he heard the creak of the door, and Jordan stepped through the opening, followed by his uncle.

  The frown on Jordan’s face told Aidan he wasn’t happy about being called back to talk to them, but Aidan gave him a satisfied smile, just to annoy him. After all, that was the least he could do.

  Jordan crossed his arms, standing in front of the table, but didn’t sit.

  “I told you all I know. What do you want now? I’m a bit busy.”

  “Please,” Aidan told him, gesturing to the chair with a wave of his hand. “Have a seat.”

  The reporter looked behind him at his uncle, who gave him a sit-down motion with his palm.

  Grudgingly, Jordan did as he was told.

  “Have you ever met Maya Gibson before?” Aidan asked. “And to clarify, I mean before you happened on the scene yesterday morning.”

  Jordan shook his head.

  “You sure about that?
” Shaun pressed. “Because we found out you attended the same yoga studio as Maya—Downward Dog.”

  “So do hundreds of other people,” Jordan replied coolly. “I happen to like yoga. It keeps me in shape.” Then he smiled. “And I meet a lot of women that way.”

  “So, Maya wasn’t one of the women you met?” Aidan taunted. “If we were to call the studio and ask around, no one would tell us they saw a young and handsome, arrogant news reporter making conversation with Maya Gibson?”

  Jordan looked Aidan in the eyes, a scowl playing on his lips. Aidan held his gaze until the reporter broke contact.

  “Fine,” he hissed through his teeth. “I’ve seen her there. I’ve even talked to her. I only go once a week. Tuesday nights.”

  “Did you see her last week at all?”

  He shook his head. “I skipped.”

  “How convenient,” Aidan stated.

  Jordan narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retort.

  Shaun interjected, “How did you hear about the murder so fast?”

  “That kid. You know, the one that found the body. He started spreading it around. As soon as I heard, I was there.” He scoffed. “C’mon. Do I need to remind you I wasn’t the only reporter there? I bet you aren’t even bothering to interview them.”

  “None of the other reporters’ names were on the list,” Shaun pointed out, tapping his index finger on the printout.

  Jordan rolled his eyes. “Well, knowing some dead woman doesn’t make me a killer.”

  Aidan believed Jordan but still found it odd he didn’t tell them he knew Maya.

  “Why did you try to hide that you knew her?”

  “I knew how it’d look,” Jordan replied simply.

  “And it doesn’t look any better now than it would have had you been straight with us,” Shaun informed him. “In fact, it raises our curiosity even more.”

  Aidan tilted his head toward his colleague. “He’s got a great point.”

  Jordan frowned. “So what? You going to arrest me for knowing someone? Geez. Talk about police brutality.”

  “Jordan, calm down,” Thomas interrupted. He stepped closer to the table, standing next to his nephew, looking from Aidan to Shaun. “Should I be calling the lawyer?”

  Aidan ignored the question. “Yesterday morning, you asked if Maya’s death had anything to do with a serial killer. What made you think that?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’m only trying to make a name as a reporter. Covering a serial killer does wonders for my rep.”

  Aidan’s face began to flare with annoyance, but at this time, he couldn’t find any reason to detain the young reporter. No matter how badly he wanted to do just that.

  “Has The Carnations Killer contacted you again?” Shaun asked.

  “Since yesterday afternoon? Nope.”

  “Okay,” Aidan said with a light sigh. “All right. You’re free to go. For now.”

  “Great.” Jordan tapped the table with the palm of his hands and jumped to his feet. “Oh, before I go, agents, can I get a statement from either of you?” He held out a recorder.

  Aidan narrowed his eyes and told him no statement, although he really wanted to tell him what he could do with the recorder.

  Slipping the device back into his shirt pocket, Jordan turned to leave.

  “Forgive my nephew,” Thomas said. “He’s got a lot of ambition, but he forgets to keep his head out of the clouds.”

  “How does he get along with his colleagues?” Aidan asked.

  “I haven't noticed that he's had any problems,” Thomas replied. “He doesn’t have a lot of friends. Only his cameraman, Kent Ory, and Gary Short, our field technician. I mean, you see how he is. He usually spends his time with the ladies, if you know what I mean.” Thomas winked.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Blake,” Aidan said, rising from his seat.

  Thomas nodded his acknowledgment as they filed out of the conference room.

  On their way out, Aidan spotted Jordan talking in the far corner with his cameraman. They looked their way, but after realizing Aidan was also watching them, the two turned to leave in the opposite direction.

  “What are you thinking?” Shaun asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Aidan admitted as they stepped into the warm morning. The clouds looked as though they were darkening, and Aidan guessed the forecast of rain for this weekend may come true.

  “Jordan seems like a great person of interest,” Shaun said.

  “He does,” Aidan agreed. “As a reporter, he could easily travel across the US murdering women. It’d help make his career.”

  “Do you remember ever seeing him before?” Shaun asked as they reached the car.

  Aidan climbed in the passenger’s side and buckled.

  Shaun settled into the driver’s side and Aidan answered his question: “No. But it doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”

  “Well, it won’t be hard finding out,” Shaun said.

  Shaun turned the key and the car rumbled to life.

  Aidan stared out the window at the news building, deep in thought. There was only one way to find out.

  13

  He watched his next target as she helped her employee put several large picture frames on the top display. A small owl on another shelf was on the verge of falling, and he knew she wouldn’t be able to catch it before it crashed against her skull.

  He hurried, and as the owl fell, he caught it, inches from her head.

  Quick reflexes had her ducking out of the way. When she realized what had happened, she finished handing the employee the large frame and turned to him. He handed her the small brass object.

  “Wow, thank you,” she said with a laugh. “That would’ve hurt.”

  He smiled. “Right place, right time.”

  “Daddy!”

  His eight-year-old daughter came running toward him, holding a stuffed purple bear.

  “Look what I found.”

  “Wow,” he replied. “That’s really cute, pumpkin.”

  “Can I have it? Can I, please?”

  He smiled and regarded his target, whose name tag read Jane. “Can’t take her anywhere, can I?”

  “She’s very beautiful.” Jane leaned over, her hands on her knees. “What’s your name, young lady?”

  “Jamie,” she answered shyly, hugging the bear against her chest.

  “That’s a very pretty name.” She righted herself and pressed her hand against his shoulder. “You know you can’t resist those puppy dog eyes.” Jane winked at Jamie.

  He looked down at his daughter, who began to pout and whimper, trying her best to pull off the puppy dog eyes without smiling.

  “Yeah, and I also know you’re just trying to make a sale.” He looked back at Jane, putting on a “pretending to be mad look.”

  “Who, me?” She tapped an index finger on her chin as Jamie giggled. “Well, now that I think about it, I bet your daughter would love the new line of Disney princess furniture we got in the other day. I’ll even throw in a fifteen percent discount since I’m pretty certain you saved me from a concussion.”

  “Disney princess furniture? Really?” Jamie’s eyes grew as she began to jump with excitement. “Can I see? Can I see?”

  “I’m afraid not right now, pumpkin,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to work. But I’ll buy you the bear if you want him.”

  She smiled and nodded eagerly that she did want him.

  He turned back to Jane. “Well played, Miss Jane. Well played.”

  “We bear lovers have to stick together, isn’t that right, young lady?”

  Jamie giggled, enthusiastically nodding her head.

  “All right, come on, pumpkin,” he said as he took hold of his daughter’s hand.

  “I hope you’ll come again,” Jane called after him.

  He turned and began walking backward. Jamie hurried to the end of a line at the register. “You can count on seeing me again. I did see something I really want, but it’s going to have to w
ait until next week. Can’t jump the gun on it, you know.”

  He gave her a salute and waited until it was his time to pay for the bear.

  After the deed was done, Jamie declined a bag, wanting to hold onto her new friend.

  “Thank you so much, Daddy,” she said, her voice soft as she stared adoringly at the bear. “I really love him.”

  “You’re very welcome, pumpkin. Happy early birthday.”

  14

  Shaun and AIDAN spent the next few hours calling around to find out whether Jordan had reported on any of the other murders. They learned he only began reporting six years ago, and he’d reported two other serial murders. However, what interested them was that Jordan was in Michigan five years ago when four people were murdered. Aidan had been on another case during that time, preventing him from joining the investigation.

  The local police assumed three of them were part of The Carnations Killer murders because they exhibited the same kinds of torture as all the other women.

  One of the deaths struck Aidan’s interest, and he could tell it did with Shaun as well.

  Her name was Keisha Moffett, thirty years old, single with no kids.

  And she was African American, which was not part of the offender's usual object of interest.

  Aidan had asked why Keisha wasn’t in the federal database and was informed that the agent assigned to the case back then didn’t believe she was a victim of the same killer as the other murder. Aidan was told that the agent had claimed it was a state matter and not federal.

  Twenty-nine-year-old Brenda Wilkes was found by a group of hikers near the end of one of the trails of the Porcupine Mountains. While the police were searching the area, they came across the body of Keisha Moffett approximately two miles away. She had a few scrapes and bruises, was stabbed multiple times, and she had bled out from a deep gash across her throat.

  The Chief of Police in Ottawa County strongly believed Keisha was a victim of the same man who murdered Brenda. But there was no evidence saying she was, and her murder had never been solved. At best, the FBI claimed she was a target of a copycat, but more likely the victim of abuse.