Now that he and his girlfriend were home, he had made a silent promise to himself to not answer the phone until Monday when he officially returned to duty. Because a good night’s rest wasn’t easy to come by, he liked taking advantage when he could.
But the cell phone had other ideas and continued to vibrate, rousing both him and his girlfriend from dreamland.
“Aidan,” he heard Cheyenne mumble. “Are you going to get that?”
Rather than answering, he groaned, searching through the darkness for the phone and glanced at the caller ID. The blurry words read SAC Hansford. He frowned as he touched the screen to answer the call. He knew the special agent-in-charge of his field office in Atlanta wouldn’t be calling unless it was an emergency.
“O’Reilly.” He sat up and rested his back against the headboard of the bed. After a few blinks of his eyes, he became lucid enough to focus on his boss’s voice.
“I’m sorry to call you on your vacation, but are you back in town? I need you to report to me ASAP.”
Aidan glanced at the red numbers on the bedside table and saw it was seven thirty in the morning. He frowned again, realizing they’d only returned home an hour ago, and he had slept a little more than thirty minutes. Even on a rare good night’s rest, he never did sleep well after a road trip. But he didn’t tell that to Hansford.
Instead, Aidan replied, “It’s no problem, sir. What’s going on?”
“We’ve been notified of a murder in Augusta.”
He hesitated, and Aidan sensed something more was on his mind.
“What is it?” Aidan asked. “You wouldn’t be calling me in for just a murder. What’s going on?”
“As I understand it, the local authorities found an envelope addressed to you.”
Aidan’s heart seemed to freeze in his chest.
No.
It couldn’t be.
“Me? Why?” Aidan asked Hansford, his throat feeling raw.
“I was also informed this particular body had...” Hansford paused again, “...been tased.”
Aidan’s heart leaped to his throat, and he clambered out of bed to leave the room, so Cheyenne didn’t wake up to overhear the conversation.
“Tased?” he repeated, keeping his voice low.
Hansford’s silence was all Aidan needed for confirmation.
He sat at the kitchen table in the darkness. Memories of a case he worked as a rookie agent came rushing back.
He’d worked the investigation on and off throughout the years.
Most members of law enforcement had the one case they went to bed dreaming of every night.
The one case that just wouldn’t let go.
The Carnations Killer was his first serial, and he’d been killing every year for almost ten years. Unfortunately, he had managed to outsmart even the best of the best.
“I need you to come in. I’ll brief you on what Lieutenant Christenson of the Columbia County Sheriff’s Office said. I also already forwarded his email to you.”
Hansford’s words were muted as Aidan considered the information.
“Agent O’Reilly?” Hansford said after a while of silence.
“I’m here,” Aidan replied. “I’m on my way in now.”
After he ended the call with Hansford, he made a pot of coffee, which thankfully took only three minutes to brew, then hurried through the hall to his room. He didn’t bother with a shower, but splashed cold water on his face and ran three strokes of his comb through his hair.
Aidan threw on a white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks, then shook Cheyenne’s shoulder. Her snoring, the only thing about her that seemed to ever bother him, slowly ceased, and she moaned, her eyes fluttering open.
“Hey, sorry to wake you, babe,” he whispered. “But I’ve got to cut my vacation short.”
“Why?” she muttered half-asleep.
“I’ve been called in,” he told her. “I’ll explain later.” He kissed her cheek, telling her he loved her.
She mumbled a response and turned over.
Coffee thermos in hand, Aidan stepped into the hallway of their apartment complex and made his way down the stairs toward the Mazda.
Although the Atlanta traffic was beginning to spread thick, it took him only twenty minutes to arrive to the massive building which housed the Federal Bureau of Investigations team.
Aidan was now sitting in Hansford’s office looking over crime scene photos the lieutenant from Augusta had emailed.
Hansford spoke as Aidan studied the photos. The victim’s name was Maya Gibson, aged twenty-eight. She was married to Clark Gibson, an elementary school teacher. Like the other victims he had investigated in The Carnations Killer murders, she was blonde and in excellent shape. She was also posed as though she were sleeping, holding a bouquet of white carnations against her chest.
Aidan’s hands began to shake, and he tried to conceal it.
“Where’s the scene?”
“Clarks Hill Lake in Evans,” Hansford answered, his throat scratchy from years of chain smoking two packs a day. He scratched his curly gray hair. “I already have a helicopter ready for you. Lieutenant Christenson is sending a car to collect you and take you to the crime scene.”
Aidan nodded. “Thank you, sir. Anything else?”
Hansford heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry to ruin your vacation, O’Reilly.”
He forced a weak smile. “Comes with the job, sir. Maybe after ten years, I’ll get lucky.”
“Let us hope.”
They rose simultaneously and shook hands.
“I'll see what I can do on my end to help catch this guy once for all.”
Aidan never told him—or anyone for that matter—how deeply the Carnations Killer affected him, but he knew he never could. Hansford would remove him from further investigations and that was one thing Aidan refused to permit.
With the file containing the details about Maya Gibson clutched tight in his hand, Aidan turned to leave the office and made his way to the helipad.
