He looked at Shaun, whose eyes clouded over as he considered what Aidan was saying.
“He wants to be sure we know he’s watching. He wants us to know he’s close, but we can’t touch him.”
“Profound,” Shaun muttered. “I’ll send it on to the lab and see if there’s chance of fingerprints.”
“I touched it at first,” Aidan told him. “I wasn't thinking.”
“No prob.” Using a napkin, Shaun picked the device up and studied it. “Looks like this is handmade. A very good handmade one at that.”
As he rose, Shaun jammed a hunk of his muffin into his mouth. Crumbs fell to the desk and he swiped them on the floor with his hand. “Wanna walk with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll go.”
They made their way in silence to the elevator and once inside, Shaun jammed his index finger on the number that would take them to the crime lab.
“By the way,” Shaun said as the doors closed, “we got nothing from the call you got last night.”
“Kinda figured that,” Aidan muttered. He turned to give Shaun his attention. “If I ask you something, will you keep it between us?”
Shaun said he would. He eyed Aidan curiously.
Aidan sighed and rested his head against the metal elevator wall.
“Do you ever have dreams?” he asked. “Not normal dreams. But of the things you see at work. Murders.”
“Sometimes,” Shaun admitted.
“Do they affect you?”
Shaun shrugged. “Nightmares are common. And this job can get to you. That’s why I go to the gym and beat the heck out of the bag. It helps me with the angers and frustrations.”
“I have dreams,” Aidan confided. His words lowered an octave. “Of the victims. They’re so vivid. I wake up and have to tell myself it was only a dream. But a part of me doesn’t believe it was. So, I can’t get back to sleep.”
“Hmm,” Shaun murmured. “Well, you know, dreams are our subconscious’ way of speaking to us. Maybe your subconscious is giving you information you don’t immediately see about the murders. Information you might realize you’ve never noticed before when you log into the database.”
“How does waking feeling Maya’s cold breath and the heat of her blood encourage my subconscious to help me solve her murder?” Aidan asked.
Rather than answering, Shaun asked, “Have you told Cheyenne about your dreams?”
The elevator jerked to a stop and the doors slid open.
“No,” Aidan admitted as they stepped off. “She already worries enough about me. I don’t want to add more to it. I try to keep work and personal life separate.”
“I don’t want to tell you what to do with your relationship,” Shaun began as they walked down the hall and turned a corner, “but that rarely works. Keeping everything bottled inside never does anyone good.” They paused outside the door of their destination. Shaun regarded Aidan, his face downcast. “Remember, all Cheyenne knows is what she hears on the news. She doesn’t know what it’s like to see the victim’s skull beaten in, and the bruises on their skin. She may never understand it. But you can do your part by confiding in her. At least about the dreams. It may help you, in the long run, to talk about it.”
Shaun placed a meaty hand on Aidan’s shoulder and gave him a soft, reassuring squeeze before pushing the door open.
“Hey, Jackson,” Shaun said, announcing their arrival.
“What up?” Jackson was in his early twenties and had yellow highlights in his dark brown hair. Though he wore long sleeves, Aidan noticed a tattoo of a dragon tail peeking out.
“Need a favor,” Shaun said. When Jackson lifted his head from the microscope, Shaun handed him the taser. “See if you can get prints off this. At least one set will be O’Reilly’s.”
“You got it.”
Jackson went to work, and Shaun turned to face Aidan.
“Think our guy has a family?”
Aidan shrugged. “It’s not uncommon for serial offenders to have a family. He has excellent people skills. He’s able to get close enough to his victims in order to throw them off guard and tase them.”
“So, he could be like Ted Bundy, a good looking, smooth talking serial killer?”
Aidan shrugged.
“That’s scary,” Shaun replied.
Aidan silently agreed.
“Okay,” Jackson said, mumbling underneath his breath. “Now running the prints in the program...” He trailed off and began singing a song underneath his breath. “The only print,” Jackson announced a few minutes later, “is yours, Agent O’Reilly.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Aidan asked. He retrieved the taser.
“Sorry, wish I could add a ‘but’ to that statement and work my magic, but...”
Aidan offered Jackson a smile. “You’re good, man. Thanks for checking on it.”
“Anytime.”
Shaun shook his hand, and they turned to leave.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you since we questioned the elderly couple,” Shaun began as the exited the crime lab, heading for the elevator. “Your compassion skills are better than you think.”
“Thanks,” Aidan muttered. When they stepped into the lift, he heard a low rumbling coming from his stomach. “I’m going to run to the cafeteria. I didn’t get to finish my breakfast, and I’m starving. Want to come?”
“Always.”
32
Shaun and AIDAN pulled into the parking lot of HomeGoods and climbed out of the car. The rain had subsided, leaving behind the fresh scent of dew. It was hot and humid, which was normal for the south. Although it was nearing eleven o’clock, the sun hid behind a small dark cloud, begging to come out. But according to the weather report on the radio as they drove to the store, it would rain again around noon.
After Shaun parked his car, they made their way into the building.
There were only a few shoppers by the registers and one employee.
They made a beeline to
