Aidan slammed his palm against the steering wheel and let out a round of curses.
He had gone way too far now.
58
SHAUN HAD INSTRUCTED agents to arrest Jordan and take him into the interview room. Aidan stood with him and Monroe, watching Jordan through the two-way glass.
The reporter sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the edge of the table. He appeared relaxed despite his being brought in for questioning once again. Aidan had hoped to see the last of him, but obviously, that didn’t work out.
“What do you want to do with him?” Shaun asked.
“Lock him up and throw away the key,” Aidan answered.
“Hmm,” Shaun replied, “I think I better go in by myself.”
Though Shaun didn’t look at him, Aidan nodded, and Shaun opened the door to enter the interview room.
“Mr. Blake,” he began as he shut the door.
The reporter smirked and snapped a finger at Shaun. “Henderson, right?”
“Well, there doesn't seem to be a need to reintroduce ourselves,” Shaun said dryly as he sat in the gray folding chair. “So why don't we skip the pleasantries and get right to business.”
Jordan scoffed. “So professional. Where’s your partner? The one that looks like an extra from The Walking Dead half the time.”
Aidan scowled. “I don’t look like that.” Although he said it mostly to himself, he heard a soft chuckle from Monroe.
“We’re not here to discuss Agent O’Reilly,” Shaun said with an edge to his words. “Now for the purpose of this interview, you’re going to be recorded so you’ll be on record. Got any problem with that?”
Jordan let his shoulders rise and fall carelessly.
Shaun reached over and pressed the button on the recorder.
“This is Special Agent Shaun Henderson on July fourth two thousand and seventeen. The subject of interest is Jordan Blake.” He regarded Jordan. “What is your age and occupation?”
“I am thirty-five and a reporter for WJFX News.”
“Mr. Blake, you recently received a text from the man who the media refers to as The Carnations Killer. When did it come through?”
“About two hours ago,” Jordan stated. “I’d filmed a segment and was talking about wanting real news. It was like he read my mind.”
“I see,” Shaun said. “And it was erased shortly after you received the text?”
Jordan nodded.
“Please say all answers out loud.”
“Yes,” Jordan replied tautly.
“Can anyone confirm you received the text message?”
“My cameraman. Kent Ory.”
“And what did the message say?”
Jordan sighed. “Something about me needing to report the real news again.” He scoffed. “At least someone recognizes my talent.”
“What else did he say?”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “He told me his most recent victim had escaped, but it won’t stop him from finding someone else.”
“And you have no proof of this text?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, and you’ve received messages from the offender before, is that correct?”
“What, am I on trial now?”
“Answer the question, please.”
Jordan frowned. “Yes. A few months ago, I received a birthday card and then a text. He said he wanted me to let the public know he’d returned.”
“That message also disappeared, correct?”
“Yes.”
Jordan seemed to be getting bored now.
“Have you ever met a man named Ron Heady?”
“I haven’t,” Jordan replied. He blew out a breath and began drumming his fingers on the table.
Aidan turned to Monroe. “Has Shaun ever had the desire to punch someone that was annoying?”
“Not that I know of,” she replied as Shaun spoke again.
“He rented the house owned by your uncle, Thomas Blake,” Shaun told the reporter.
“So?” Jordan asked. “My uncle doesn’t tell me who he rents his house to. I mean, I heard The Carnations Killer used his house to kill those women, but I don’t know anything else. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Well,” Aidan said to Monroe, still thinking of the answer she’d given him, “that’s an annoying quality.”
Aidan watched as Shaun rose and began to pace the room. He stood in front of the two-way glass. Aidan could see him, but knew Shaun could only see his own reflection. To Aidan, he was looking right above his head.
“See, here’s the thing I don’t get, Jordan,” Shaun continued. He turned on his heels to face the reporter. “You were on the scene at Maya Gibson’s murder, then you claimed to have received a text from the offender saying he’s returned.” He paced around the table so he’d be at Jordan’s back. “You were also at Jane Ridgeway’s crime scene while we were processing it, and it turns out the offender used your uncle’s home as his home base. Now you know his last victim managed to escape. Something no one else knows.”
He paused and leaned over to speak in the reporter’s ear.
“Get it yet, Blake? We don’t need too much to try and convict you.” He straightened and stepped over to his chair across from Jordan and lowered himself to the seat. Shaun put one leg over the other knee, folding his hands on the table. “We don’t even need to inform the jury that you lied about knowing the victim and that you reported on other murders committed by the offender. We already have enough to charge you. More than likely enough to convict you.”
Shaun opened the manila folder, which rested on the table and began to spread the crime scene photos.
Aidan could tell Jordan was trying to remain cool.
The reporter closed his eyes and looked away.
Shaun passed him several sheets of paper.
“These are autopsy reports. In 2001, Hillary Barnett was his second victim. When she was found, her kneecaps were busted, her ribs broken. In 2005, Valerie Davis’ injuries were so bad, she’d died before he was
