“No,” Shaun said. “Apparently, someone slipped a birthday card underneath the reporter’s office door. And now he just told 2.2 million people the card was from The Carnations Killer claiming he’s back.”
Aidan threw out a round of angry curses. Cheyenne glared at him through her square-rimmed glasses, her hands on her hips. But Aidan didn’t care. There were reasons they kept certain information silent until they were ready to announce it to the public. Now because of a certain reporter, the city would be in chaos, the FBI and local police were shamed, and they’d have to figure out how to provide damage control.
If that were even possible.
Aidan cursed again, jamming his thumb on the power button of the remote and tossing it toward the couch. It missed the cushion by an inch and hit the wall with a loud crash.
“I’m on the way to the news station now,” Shaun informed him.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m on the way.”
Aidan ended the conversation and slipped his cell back into its holder.
“I’ve got to go,” he told the girls.
“I really wish you would quit that,” Cheyenne scolded, fitting her glasses more comfortably on the bridge of her nose.
“What?” Aidan asked as he made his way to the door.
“You know what—that profanity you do,” she stated. “It really bothers me. I tell you all the time.”
“I know,” Aidan muttered. “I’ll work on it. But right now, I’ve got to get back to work.”
He kissed her cheek, and she told him to be careful. Telling Cheyenne he loved her, Aidan said goodbye to Laura and hurried out the front door where the bureau car waited.
9
AIDAN pulled INTO the WJFX News parking space as Shaun climbed out of his car. He pushed his door closed and waited until Aidan parked and turned off the ignition, then met him at the driver’s side. Shaun pulled open the door.
“This is a mess,” he complained.
“You’re not kidding,” Aidan agreed, unbuckling. “We hardly started investigating. Now the state’s going to be in panic mode. We’re not sure yet if it is The Carnations Killer.” He climbed out, slammed his door. Straightening his dress shirt, he released a heavy sigh.
Another wave of sleepiness overtook him, and he attempted to mask it by shaking his head.
Shaun looked at him curiously. “Are you saying you don’t think it’s The Carnations Killer after all?”
Aidan frowned and crossed his arms. “I’m saying we don’t know anything yet. Until we do know something, there isn’t a need to cause undue panic.” He paused, then in a low voice said, “But I have no doubt in my mind The Carnations Killer murdered Maya Gibson. We have to proceed carefully. All he wants is attention. Fear. That’s why he contacted this reporter in the first place. And because of Jordan Blake, that’s exactly what he’s about to get.”
They began walking, and as they reached the door, Shaun grabbed the handle. Before he opened it, he regarded Aidan.
“Do me a favor and don’t punch this guy.”
Aidan eyed him, wondering how he could tell what he was thinking. They’d only met this morning, and he seemed to have the ability to read his mind.
“Why not?” Aidan said. “He deserves it.”
“Because if you were in his shoes, you would have done the same thing,” Shaun pointed out. “As would I.”
Aidan rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he promised after it was clear they wouldn't be proceeding without an agreement. “I won’t punch him.”
“Good,” Shaun said with undeniable satisfaction, pulling the door open.
They walked into the building side-by-side, and a few minutes later found themselves in a conference room. Jordan Blake was already waiting, sitting comfortably in his chair, one leg over another. Next to him sat the cameraman who attended him at Clarks Hill Lake.
“Agents,” Jordan acknowledged, a smug smile playing on his lips.
The sight of him made Aidan want to deck him.
Before he had the chance to respond, the door opened, and another man stepped through.
“Agents O’Reilly and Henderson?”
“Yes,” Shaun said, extending his hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Thomas Blake.”
After shaking his hand, Aidan looked from Jordan to Thomas.
“What I'm sure you're thinking is correct. The conceited young news reporter over there happens to be my youngest nephew,” Thomas explained. “He’s full of himself but is a dang good reporter.”
“I see,” Aidan replied. “But that doesn’t give him the right to go on the air and—”
“So, the first amendment doesn’t apply when it comes to reporting serial killers?” Jordan interjected.
Aidan squared his jaw.
“The point Agent O’Reilly is trying to make, Mr. Blake,” Shaun said, “is that informing the public there’s a serial killer in the vicinity, without prior authorization, does nothing but create havoc within the community.”
“But don’t they have a right to know?” Jordan pressed.
“They do,” Shaun admitted. “However, we need time to assess the situation.”
He waved his hand and took a seat across from the reporter. Aidan followed suit, remaining quiet. He opted to let Shaun do the talking. Aidan decided his new comrade seemed like he’d handle it much better than Aidan ever could. Aidan worried he may make the situation worse if he spoke.
“But what’s done is done.” Shaun cleared his throat and folded his hands together. “Can we see the card?”
Aidan followed Jordan’s gaze toward his uncle, who remained standing by the door. Thomas gave him a slight nod, resulting in a light sigh from the reporter. He leaned toward the floor and removed an envelope from his bag and set it on the table, pushing it across the table.
Shaun used a tissue to retrieve the envelope. He used another tissue to remove the card. They read
