Aidan tried to hide it, but he knew Cheyenne could see through him. A part of him wished he could open up to her. But if he did, the parts of the investigation he kept locked in his mind would only make things worse.
The issue was would it make it worse for him or her?
She lowered her head to his chest and released a sigh.
“I’ve been chasing him for ten years,” Aidan whispered, his voice sounding rough to his ears. “Every time he’d kill, I’d try to find something—anything—that would lead us to him. But he’s always so careful.”
“You’ll get him,” Cheyenne assured him. “I know you will.”
“The sheets are ready for you,” Laura announced, entering the room.
Cheyenne sat upright and looked at her sister.
“I really wish you didn't have to go so soon,” she frowned.
“I promise when I get back, we’ll do something,” Laura said. “I’ll even take a long vacation. We’ll just make the time.”
Cheyenne stood to wrap Laura in a tight hug. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”
“Well, it works out for me,” Laura replied playing with Cheyenne’s short ponytail. “Make yourselves at home. Mi casa es su casa.”
“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.”
