Aidan noticed Shaun stepping off the elevator, so he waited for him.
“I just got back from the lab,” Shaun announced.
“Yeah?”
“The only print on the envelope and card was Jordan Blake's and Kent Ory's. And there's no trace of a text message sent to Blake's cell phone.”
“Why doesn't that surprise me?” Aidan asked as they continued the short distance to his cubicle.
He lowered himself into his chair and Shaun grabbed another from nearby and rolled it over.
“So, he still wants to cover his tracks,” Aidan muttered, leaning back into his chair. “We know our offender is most likely a white male. He gets off from torturing people—like many serial offenders, he likely started as a young kid torturing and killing animals. Then when he got bored, he began searching for women of interest. He knows his technology. He uses burners and knows how to remotely delete any trace of a text. The big kicker is that he uses a taser on his victims and leaves the carnations.”
Aidan paused as he stared at his desk littered with files of other victims. It held too many faces.
“And over the last ten years,” he continued, mostly to himself, “he’s killed women from all over the United States. So he very likely has a job that travels from state to state.”
“Why do you think he chooses women?” Shaun asked. “He never rapes them. He just beats them and then strangles them.”
“Maybe a woman—possibly a good-looking blonde—wronged him when he was a kid. Maybe his mother beat him. Or maybe his mother abandoned him.” Aidan leaned over his desk, clasping his hands together. “Or he just hates blonde women and feels powerful when he’s hurting them. Have you looked over the recent customers for Downward Dog?”
Shaun put the list on the desk and pushed it toward him.
“Ah-ha. Glad you asked.” Shaun’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Guess who started attending three weeks ago.”
Aidan scanned the list of names, using his index finger as a guide. Muttering to himself, he stopped at a name on the second page.
Well.
It seemed they found a person of interest: Jordan Blake.
12
Shaun AND AIDAN waited with patience in the conference room at the WJFX News Station for Thomas Blake to locate his nephew. In the meantime, Aidan reviewed the list, trying to draw out a few other possibilities, but so far, their news reporter friend was the most viable.
He looked up when he heard the creak of the door, and Jordan stepped through the opening, followed by his uncle.
The frown on Jordan’s face told Aidan he wasn’t happy about being called back to talk to them, but Aidan gave him a satisfied smile, just to annoy him. After all, that was the least he could do.
Jordan crossed his arms, standing in front of the table, but didn’t sit.
“I told you all I know. What do you want now? I’m a bit busy.”
“Please,” Aidan told him, gesturing to the chair with a wave of his hand. “Have a seat.”
The reporter looked behind him at his uncle, who gave him a sit-down motion with his palm.
Grudgingly, Jordan did as he was told.
“Have you ever met Maya Gibson before?” Aidan asked. “And to clarify, I mean before you happened on the scene yesterday morning.”
Jordan shook his head.
“You sure about that?” Shaun pressed. “Because we found out you attended the same yoga studio as Maya—Downward Dog.”
“So do hundreds of other people,” Jordan replied coolly. “I happen to like yoga. It keeps me in shape.” Then he smiled. “And I meet a lot of women that way.”
“So, Maya wasn’t one of the women you met?” Aidan taunted. “If we were to call the studio and ask around, no one would tell us they saw a young and handsome, arrogant news reporter making conversation with Maya Gibson?”
Jordan looked Aidan in the eyes, a scowl playing on his lips. Aidan held his gaze until the reporter broke contact.
“Fine,” he hissed through his teeth. “I’ve seen her there. I’ve even talked to her. I only go once a week. Tuesday nights.”
“Did you see her last week at all?”
He shook his head. “I skipped.”
“How convenient,” Aidan stated.
Jordan narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retort.
Shaun interjected, “How did you hear about the murder so fast?”
“That kid. You know, the one that found the body. He started spreading it around. As soon as I heard, I was there.” He scoffed. “C’mon. Do I need to remind you I wasn’t the only reporter there? I bet you aren’t even bothering to interview them.”
“None of the other reporters’ names were on the list,” Shaun pointed out, tapping his index finger on the printout.
Jordan rolled his eyes. “Well, knowing some dead woman doesn’t make me a killer.”
Aidan believed Jordan but still found it odd he didn’t tell them he knew Maya.
“Why did you try to hide that you knew her?”
“I knew how it’d look,” Jordan replied simply.
“And it doesn’t look any better now than it would have had you been straight with us,” Shaun informed him. “In fact, it raises our curiosity even more.”
Aidan tilted his head toward his colleague. “He’s got a great point.”
Jordan frowned. “So what? You going to arrest me for knowing someone? Geez. Talk about police brutality.”
“Jordan, calm down,” Thomas interrupted. He stepped closer to the table, standing next to his nephew, looking from Aidan to Shaun. “Should I be calling the lawyer?”
Aidan ignored the question. “Yesterday morning, you asked if Maya’s death had anything to do with a serial killer. What made you think that?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m only trying to make a name as a reporter. Covering a serial killer does wonders for my rep.”
Aidan’s face began to flare
