They were now suited and prepared to raid the warehouse.
Shaun and Aidan both agreed that chances were the offender had vanished again.
As Aidan prepared to enter the building, he found his heart was lodged in his throat. His hands began to sweat even more than was normal for a raid. He worked on steadying his breathing.
“You okay?” Shaun asked as he checked his weapon.
Aidan did the same, although he'd done so five minutes ago. He nodded, unsure he'd be able to speak.
His mind replayed their last encounter with the offender and the dreams he continued to have.
Aidan had lived with this investigation for so long, he'd begun to wonder if he'd ever escape the nightmares.
He felt strong hands grip his left shoulder.
“I'm right behind you,” Shaun told him.
“I'm fine,” Aidan insisted. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Shaun echoed. Aidan glanced at him and saw in his eyes that Shaun knew he wasn't, but chose not to press the issue.
Aidan chambered his round. “Let's do this.”
Shaun motioned for a few agents to slink around the back.
It had a chained lock, so it made sense no one was inside, but still, they were prepared for anything. After all, they thought Thomas Blake's house was empty.
Using the battering ram, the agents rushed the door, splintering it open. Daylight peered through, showing just enough of the space.
There was nothing but old boxes and dusty shelves. Some shelves still hung in place, others leaned against the walls. The agents used flashlights to scan the room until they spotted another door.
The blood pulsed in Aidan's ear as he and Shaun stood at either side.
Once they crashed through the door, they entered a smaller room.
It was empty.
“Here's a light switch,” Shaun said.
Carol had said when her abductor turned on the lights, it had blinded her eyes. Aidan prepared himself for what may happen when Shaun switched it.
The light poured over the room. Aidan shielded his eyes, imagining staring directly into the sun.
Shaun flicked it off with a curse. White and black circles swam in front of Aidan's eyes. He blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden change in his vision.
“It's a wonder he didn't completely blind her,” Aidan stated.
“Nothing's here,” Shaun noted.
“Agent O'Reilly. Over here.”
Aidan moved toward the agent that had called for his attention. He pointed to the table, his flashlight glaring off the surface.
Aidan looked at what the agent wanted to show him.
“Not nothing,” Aidan told Shaun.
When Shaun appeared by Aidan's side, he cursed again.
Carved in the table was a message.
FBI Special Agent O'Reilly—
Sorry, we missed each other. But don't worry, I'll catch you soon.
Your friend, The Carnations Killer
56
WHEN JORDAN FINISHED reporting his story about an event the Humane Society would be running next month, he tossed his microphone onto the table and scowled at Kent.
“I'm sick of running these stupid stories,” Jordan complained, “I can't believe my uncle's punishing me like this.”
Kent began breaking down his camera so he could place the piece in the case. “I don't see it as punishing. Not much seems to be newsworthy around here these days.”
“When did The Carnations Killer stop being newsworthy?” Jordan snapped.
Kent raised his eyebrow. “You know something about him I don't? Please share.”
The reporter frowned. “I want cutting edge stories. Not...cutesy.”
“Well,” Kent said as he snapped his case shut, “just be thankful your uncle is letting you report anything.”
“I’m not a Good Samaritan reporter,” Jordan insisted.
“Haven’t we gone over this?” Kent asked. “You’re worse than a woman. You change your mind from it’s okay to lay low to you want cutting edge. Let’s go over this again—you went on the air before you were authorize—”
“The FBI was hiding that we had a serial killer roaming around. The people had a right to know.”
“And you lied to the feds,” Kent reminded him.
“How do you think it'd look if I told them I knew Maya Gibson?”
“And you baited Agent O'Reilly,” Kent finished. He heaved his camera case from the table and began carting it toward the van.
“He baited me first,” Jordan replied, trailing after him.
“He was doing his job,” Kent cornered.
Jordan frowned. “And I was doing mine. I'm a reporter. I report news as I see fit. I'm sorry if no one likes it.” He jabbed his index finger at Kent’s shoulder. “You went along with me, by the way.”
“Because you point, and I shoot. I need a job and don't want you having me fired over my unwillingness to help you on your way to glorified fame.”
Jordan rolled his eyes.
“You have nothing to prove,” Kent added.
“I'm not trying to prove anything,” Jordan spat as he fished his cell phone from the passenger's seat.
“Hello?” Kent said, waving his hand in the air. “All you've been trying to do is prove...”
Jordan tuned the cameraman out as he stared with interest at his phone. He'd received another text message.
It's time for you to report real news again. Get in front of the camera and tell them The Carnations Killer kidnapped a woman. She was a lucky one. She'd managed to escape. But tell them it’s not going to stop me from going after another.
“...Are you even listening to me?”
Kent shook Jordan's shoulder.
“You okay, man? You look like you've seen a ghost.”
“Look.” Jordan showed Kent the message. “Have you heard anything about another woman being kidnapped?”
Frowning, Kent said he hadn't. “But he says she got away, right? So that's good.”
“But he's going to go after someone else.”
“I think you should tell the FBI and be done with it,” Kent replied.
Jordan considered his options. If he went on the air, he could
