“Did you see who left the card?”
“Kent was the one who saw the guy,” Jordan replied.
Aidan regarded Kent, who shook his head.
“I didn't get a good look at him. He was white, black hair. I saw him lean down and slide the card underneath the door. Then he walked away. At the time, I thought it was a fan. Jordan gets a lot of fan mail, and with his birthday coming, he gets plenty of cards and gifts.”
“We’re going to have to admit this as evidence,” Shaun said.
“Think you’ll be able to get fingerprints off it?” Jordan asked.
“Doubtful,” Aidan said. “But we’re going to try. It doesn’t say anything about him returning. Where did you get that information? Or did you only speculate?”
“He received a text message shortly after reading the card.” It was the cameraman who spoke.
Jordan fished for his phone and searched his messages.
“Wait a minute,” he said after a few minutes of silence ticked by. His eyes grew. “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?” Shaun asked.
“The text. It was there. I promise. Kent saw it, right?”
“Yeah. I mean, it came shortly after he received the letter. It said to tell the world The Carnations Killer was back.”
“What’s your number?” Aidan grabbed a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket. He scribbled the number Jordan recited and began to pack his things. “We’ll have our techs check to see if they can’t find out who sent the message to your phone.”
Aidan looked across the table at Jordan, who was tapping his phone’s screen. He assumed the reporter was still trying to find where the text message may have gone.
“In the meantime, Mr. Blake,” Aidan began. He waited until Jordan looked at him. “In the meantime, if this guy contacts you again, please don’t go directly to the camera, okay?” He slid his business card across the table. “If he contacts you, I need you to call us. Day or night.”
Jordan nodded slowly.
“I’m being serious,” Aidan warned. “If you do this a second time, I’ll have you arrested for obstruction.”
“I get it,” Jordan replied coolly.
“Perfect.” Aidan pushed to his feet, Shaun following his lead. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”
They made their way out of the conference room, Shaun studying the note as they walked.
“Curious stuff, isn’t it? The Carnations Killer contacts Jordan Blake and tells him to report he’s back. A text message disappearing from Blake’s phone?”
“It’s not unheard of that serial killers reach out to the media,” Aidan reminded him. “It’s their way of crying for attention, while at the same time taunting us. And there are technologies that allow you to remotely delete a text message. I’ll stake my career on it that the text message was sent from a burner phone, so we won't be able to trace the sender anyway. But we now know something we didn't before.”
Shaun considered it. “He’s tech savvy.”
Halfway to the cars, Aidan unwittingly released a yawn.
Shaun glanced at him and it was obvious he noticed.
“This was supposed to be your last week of vacation,” he remarked. “Why don’t you let me write the assessment into the database? I’ll finish the day and you go on home. Get some rest.”
“I’ll be fine,” Aidan insisted.
They reached their cars.
“You left Boston around three yesterday, right? I think that was what you said earlier during lunch.”
Aidan nodded, not liking where he was going.
“So, you said you drove non-stop to get home to Atlanta. It takes at least fifteen hours from Boston to there, so you probably got home around six thirtyish. And you arrived at the crime scene around eight thirty. And now it’s almost four.” Shaun frowned. “Which means you’ve been up for twenty-four hours, give or take. You need sleep, Aidan. You’ve done enough for the day. Go home, finish off your vacation. We'll regroup Monday morning. The investigation isn’t going to go anywhere, and you know as well as I do that you have to be alert to do the job well. I don’t want to have to tell Monroe that the agent Atlanta sent us is falling asleep on the job.”
Aidan fought back another yawn, knowing Shaun was right.
“Okay,” he agreed. “You win.”
“Good. I’ll let you know if something comes up. In the meantime, get some rest and I’ll see you soon.”
Aidan opened the car door, climbed in, and turned the key, listening to the engine rumble.
“Thanks, Shaun,” he told him.
“Anytime, boss.”
As he walked to his car, Aidan steered away from the news station.
10
AIDAN pulled IN front of the open garage and climbed out of the car. He stepped across the stone walkway to the front door and, using his key, opened it. When Aidan strode inside, the smell of spaghetti sauce greeted his nostrils. He found Cheyenne in the kitchen leaning over a pot, stirring its contents.
“Hey, you,” she said with a warm smile.
Aidan went over and wrapped his arms around her waist. Kissing her neck, he told her the sauce smelt delicious.
“Thanks,” she replied. “It’s a new recipe. Very spicy. I wanted to make Laura’s favorite dish.” She turned to face him. “What are you doing home? I thought you were going to work late.”
“Shaun—he’s my new partner—insisted,” Aidan replied. “Said I need to try and sleep off the drive from Boston.”
“Good for Shaun,” Cheyenne muttered. “I like him already. I hate it when you chase bad guys in your sleep.”
“That’s all I ever do,” he countered with a scoff. Almost as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized his joke was a bad one. “It’s just not always easy to leave work at work.”
“I understand.” She put a hand on his cheek to caress it. “I just worry
