It was a shame she wasn't going to have a lot of opportunities to do her writing. He considered letting her slide since he held a soft spot for writers. But he decided against it.
Halfway through the ground, his shovel hit the top of a what he was searching for.
It wouldn’t be long now.
A few more dirt tosses aside, he revealed the brown album. Brushing off the soil, he smiled. A few weeks ago, he had decided to give it to O’Reilly as part of the surprise he had in store. He thought the agent might appreciate a gift from the heart. But first, he needed to duplicate it. He didn’t want to give him the original copy.
As he refilled the hole, his cell phone began to ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, honey.” It was his wife. “Are you stopping at home anytime soon?”
“I can, sure.”
“I need a few things from the store if you don't mind going for me. I can text you the list.”
“Of course, babe,” he replied.
“What are you doing? You sound out of breath.”
“I’m just working out a sweat. I've got to look my best if I'm going to keep you, right?”
Her laughter sounded self-conscious. He pictured her blushing. “Oh, I didn’t intend on bothering you, babe.”
He finished filling the hole and returned the shovel to the shed.
“You never bother me,” he told his wife. “So don’t ever think that. You know, I don’t have a lot left to do at work. Why don’t you send Jamie to a friend’s house and we can have a little champagne, create bit of romance...”
“Really?”
“I want to show you how much I really love you, baby.”
“Then hurry home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Now at his car, he tossed the album in the trunk, burying it under the early Christmas gifts he and his wife bought.
He climbed in as the text came with the grocery list. He also decided to buy his lovely wife a bouquet of red roses—her favorite.
47
A SOUND IN Aidan's dreams jarred him awake. For the first time, he couldn’t remember the specifics of what he dreamt, and he was glad. Considering his heart drummed against his chest as though he'd run five miles at top speed, he didn’t want to remember.
Aidan sat upright in his bed and swung his feet over the edge.
It had been a few weeks since their close encounter with The Carnations Killer, and they hadn’t found enough helpful leads to catch up with the offender. It was wearing and tearing him down. Aidan could feel it, and he could see in Cheyenne’s eyes that she was still troubled by it—although she stopped bringing it up, which worried him. Cheyenne not saying whatever was on her mind was never a good thing.
The crime scene unit confirmed Thomas Blake’s house was used as the offender's home base. Luminol revealed the stained tarp held both Maya Gibson’s and Jane Ridgeway’s blood, as did the tire iron laying on the dresser.
They were assuming the duct tape was used to cover the victims’ mouths. The fishing wires were consistent with the gashes around their necks, arms, and ankles.
One of the crime scene units found a broken fingernail in the corner of the cellar. They were able to confirm it came from Maya—it appeared that she may have been attempting to dig her way out of the basement.
The cellar didn’t have noticeable fingerprints other than the victims, so they weren’t sure whether or not Jordan had ever been there.
However, Aidan realized even if his prints were there, it wouldn’t have been surprising, considering his uncle owned the house. Any lawyer would claim it as inconclusive evidence.
And they’d be right.
When they finally caught up with the reporter, they learned Jordan had taken a vacation to New York with a couple of girls, so there was no way he would have been on the premises at the same time as the FBI.
They were back to square zero once, and the days were creeping along with no word from the offender.
Maybe his close encounter with them had scared him off so he decided to go on his usual sabbatical.
Did they really lose him again?
Aidan hoped not.
He'd begun to find himself staying at work late. Cheyenne seemed okay with the late hours. At first, Aidan decided it was probable that she preferred he spent his time obsessing at a distance.
When they were together, however, he got the feeling the tension between him and Cheyenne was growing thicker and thicker.
He wasn’t entirely convinced the offender was gone for good. So how could he stop searching for him?
After all, he claimed to have a surprise for Aidan.
Aidan figured that unless he missed it, the offender hadn’t done anything remotely like a surprise.
And now, Aidan rested his back against the headboard after having another series of nightmares.
His throat parched, he headed for the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. He closed his eyes as the iced liquid wet his throat.
When Aidan reopened them, an image flashed in front of his eyes.
Aidan gasped and jumped backward, knocking into the kitchen chair. He fell back, his glass of water falling out of his hands, almost slow motion, to the tiles. Water and glass spewed across the floor. His head snapped back, and he let out a sharp cry.
White circles swam in front of his eyes as he tried to refocus. Sharp pain throbbed in his head as he rubbed his temples.
Aidan heard
