“Talk to me,” Aidan said.
“I’m worried about you,” she replied after a pause. “I mean, I hear about how certain cases can ruin agent’s lives. They get depressed, they become obsessed. They even shut the ones they love out.”
“That won’t happen to me,” he promised.
“How can you be sure? Aidan, you’ve been after this guy for ten years.” She put her empty plate on the tray and twisted in the bed to face him. Her eyes began to tear. “Every time he kills someone else, somewhere else, you try not to let it bother you. But it does. I know it does. And I understand it does. And you try to hide it. But you don’t hide it very well. For the last five years, you’ve woken up late at night, or you toss and turn so that you don’t get a good night’s rest. I know you’re thinking of him. Of who he might be. You haven’t caught him yet, and it’s eating you up inside.”
Aidan put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
“I don’t wake up at night dreaming of him,” he replied. “I wake up because of your loud snoring.”
He offered her a smile, but she shook his hand away. Cheyenne climbed out of the bed, pulled on her nightgown and grabbed the dishes.
“This isn’t a joke, Aidan,” she snapped. “I’m being serious.”
“I know you are.”
“Then why won’t you just let us have a serious conversation about it, and not make jokes?”
She turned and headed out the room, leaving him frowning after her.
20
After church, THEY hung around to speak to a few of the attendees. Laura, who had always been fascinated about Aidan working in the FBI, wanted to show him off. He had lost count of how many times he was asked whether or not they'd come close to catching The Carnations Killer.
It had been apparent very quickly the serial offender’s presence in their city had caused fear, especially since the news had told the world it seemed The Carnations Killer stepped away from his MO to murder Keisha Moffett and Jamal Foster. It seemed to Aidan that the way the world worked these days, any little thing could raise panic.
He tried to contain it by assuring everyone that they were working very closely with the local police, as well as law enforcement in other states. Some accepted what he said, others—mostly the men—needed further assurance. Understandably, they didn’t want anything to happen to the women in their lives.
A few of the men wanted to know why he attended the morning service instead of searching for the offender. Aidan replied that even federal agents needed to attend church and listen to God’s words. In his choice of career, Aidan needed to hear His words in order to keep his sanity intact. It reminded him that despite the things he would see on a day-to-day basis, it would work out okay in the end.
But even in church, he always sat on the end of the pew and kept his phone on vibrate in case he was to be called away. Thankfully, he wasn’t this morning, but he found himself drifting from the preacher’s sermon to reflect on the note the offender left for him earlier.
Aidan knew he was planning something big, and he tried to presume what it could be.
Shaun had already issued two undercover agents to keep an eye on Cheyenne. It made Aidan feel better knowing she'd be safe.
They ate a quick lunch at a Mexican restaurant before returning home to get out of the Sunday drizzle.
Now, as Cheyenne and Laura watched a movie, Aidan flipped through the dummy files he removed from the office to see if he had missed something over the last ten years.
It didn't seem he did.
Aidan pushed out a breath with the sudden desire to hurl the files across the room. Ten years had gone by with at least fifty women murdered and they had nothing. He kept waiting for the offender to do something—anything—to slip up. But he always seemed to be too careful. And that gave the offender enough confidence to contact Aidan, claiming something major was in the works.
Aidan frowned. He couldn't for the life of him imagine what he was planning.
Aidan searched his notes for what seemed to be the billionth time, trying to link suspects to the victims. So far, Jordan Blake was at the top of the list, but he didn't think the smug news anchor could pull off such heinous crimes. Then again, when it came right to it, serial offenders could be who you'd least expect.
If Jordan really was The Carnations Killer, then maybe he wanted to push his limits. Maybe he wanted to show them they really couldn't catch him by purposefully being everywhere the victims were found.
“You okay?”
Realizing the living room was filled with complete silence, Aidan eyed Cheyenne. They had paused the film, and two pairs of eyes were gazing at him.
He tried to offer a reassuring smile and claim he was fine, but he could tell Cheyenne knew he was lying—she always could.
“Why don’t you take a break? You promised me, remember? Watch the movie with us.”
“I’m watching,” Aidan told her. He glanced at the picture on the screen. “I’m just...multitasking.”
“You’ve been focused all weekend on this investigation,” she complained, folding her arms over her chest. She frowned. “You’ve been here, but you haven’t been here.”
“It’s my job, Cheyenne,” Aidan said. He swallowed hard as his icy tone flew out of his mouth. But he wasn’t going to back down. “Unless I cave and accept the position at Quantico, this is my job.”
For a few seconds, Cheyenne glared at him,
