Aidan groaned and padded to the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of Michelob. “I told you I don’t want to teach, Cheyenne. Being a field agent is all I’ve ever wanted to be. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“Can’t you just think about it?” Cheyenne pleaded. “If we moved to Virginia and you taught, I wouldn’t have to spend my life wondering if today’s the day I’ll get the news you’ve been killed. You’ll have a steady job and no more late night calls. We could start a family.”
“Cheyenne—”
She pressed her fingers against his lips. “Just consider it. That’s all I want you to do. Please? Whatever decision you make, I’ll support you. But think about it.”
“Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll consider it.”
She kissed the tip of his nose before turning to continue stirring the sauce.
“Where’s Laura?”
Cheyenne pointed to the ceiling with her wooden spoon. “Changing the sheets in the master. We’re going to sleep in there while she’s away.”
He watched her taste the sauce, savor it, and then dump a dash more of Oregano.
“Monroe is going to deliver the press release shortly,” he told her. “I’m going to go watch it.”
“Okay,” Cheyenne replied.
Aidan kissed her cheek before making a beeline for the living room. The television was on Two and a Half Men, so he switched it to WJFX. He had already decided it was going to be his favorite news station...he needed to keep his eye on Jordan Blake.
The news cast were discussing the weather—it was supposed to storm this weekend—and something about a man finding a baby on a park bench. He apparently took her to the hospital, and now the police were in search of the mother.
Thinking about the park baby made Aidan consider his growing relationship with Cheyenne. He had been with her almost ever since he moved to Atlanta five years ago. They met shopping at the grocery store. Their quick friendship grew into an unexpected romance and Aidan knew he wanted to spend his life with her. They’ve been living together for the last two years.
He knew she wanted to begin having children and building a family with him, but he wasn’t sure if they were ready yet. They weren’t even married. Then again, he had an engagement ring hidden away at home. He told himself it wasn’t the time to ask her, despite the bridal magazines she’d buy as a not-too-subtle hint. Aidan wasn’t sure what was preventing him from popping the question. He loved Cheyenne. He knew that without a doubt. His sister had told him several times before that it was because he had a fear of commitment. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.
On the TV, Aidan heard the news anchor announce that FBI Assistant Special Agent-In-Charge Carolyn Monroe was going to issue a statement regarding the Maya Gibson murder.
He turned the volume up and listened. Cheyenne entered the kitchen and sat with him on the couch, leaning her body against his.
Monroe appeared on the screen with Lieutenant Christenson standing behind her. They both stared straight into the crowd. Monroe’s posture effected authority and determination while Christenson seemed to be relieved that he didn’t have to speak.
“Early this morning,” Monroe began, “the body of twenty-eight-year-old Maya Gibson was found at Clarks Hill Lake. The last time she was seen alive was last Tuesday night around six o’clock leaving her yoga class at Downward Dog. She was discovered at approximately seven o’clock this morning. The autopsy results revealed no sexual assault. Mrs. Gibson was tortured, bound, then killed, possibly strangled with a thin wire.”
Monroe paused to take a deep breath. She scanned the crowd.
“We believe Mrs. Gibson’s death was the work of a serial offender who refers to himself as The Carnations Killer.”
She went on to discuss what was already public knowledge about the offender. At Aidan’s request, she left out that the victim had been tased, and that he’d received a letter from The Carnations Killer. When she finished, she paused again before asking the media if there were any questions.
They began to talk with excitement over one another.
“No, we do not have any persons of interest at this time,” she told one reporter. “But the FBI and the Columbia County Sheriff’s Office are working closely together, attempting to narrow down the pool of possible offenders.”
Her attention went to another reporter.
“As long as women—particularly blondes—remain in groups, I don’t see there’s cause to worry. We’re exhausting every bit of enforcement we have. I’m working with a team of excellent men and women. It’s a matter of time before The Carnations Killer is caught.”
She answered a few more questions before the press release was over. At the end, she requested the public contact the sheriff’s office or the FBI Resident Agency if they knew anything about Maya’s abduction and murder. The numbers flashed at the bottom of the screen. Aidan muted the TV and leaned back against the couch, his head on the armrest. Cheyenne sat up and pivoted to look at him, her eyes laced with concern.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded, still staring at the ceiling. He didn’t like talking to Cheyenne about his investigations, but he knew she wanted him to set free the frustration that came with the job. She once told him to start writing things in a journal if he couldn’t talk to her. Cheyenne had told him it might help unleashing the evil he saw, rather than holding it inside. She knew him well enough to know he was bothered by the things he had seen, and she knew his first year as an agent was a daunting one. He never went
