His uncle was right all along.
It was the photos of the women that finally did him in.
There were so many.
Agent Henderson didn't even show all of them. But he showed him more than enough.
He saw the crime scene photos and even saw Maya Gibson. While all of them were in bad shape, some were beyond recognizable.
Jordan couldn’t stop picturing their broken faces. He had a sick feeling rising in his stomach. It made him want to lose his lunch. Why would anyone want to do that to a woman? To anyone for that matter? What kind of monster hated people so much, they’d destroy their lives and not care?
Did something happen in this guy’s childhood that broke him?
Or was he born evil?
He took a sip of his Michelob.
Jordan had asked the agents why they thought The Carnations Killer wanted to contact him. Agent O’Reilly guessed it was because the killer knew he’d do whatever it took to get the story.
It kind of made sense, didn’t it?
If Jordan wanted to make sure his bad deeds were being noticed, he’d probably want to find some overconfident imbecile to shout it out.
And if he wanted to remain unknown, then a young reporter yearning to make it in the field was the perfect target.
And the perfect fall guy.
Now everything he’d gone through regarding The Carnations Killer made sense.
The question remained: who was The Carnations Killer?
Would he take the bait the FBI set in place?
Would he finally be caught after all these years?
His cell phone interrupted his thoughts. He glanced at the caller ID, reading unavailable. Frowning, Jordan answered.
“Nice try, Jordan. But you don’t fool me.”
His heart beat against his ribcage as the garbled voice spoke to him on the other end of the line.
“Who is this?”
“You don’t know?”
The voice sounded relaxed.
Carefree.
He laughed. “You do know. Tell me who I am.”
Jordan swallowed, but he wasn't able to wet his throat. “You’re the one who murdered all those women. The Carnations Killer.”
More laughter. “See? You’ve got my number. Now. The reason I'm calling you: I have a message for you to give Agent O’Reilly.”
“No,” Jordan told him. “I’m done being your messenger boy.”
“Come on, Jordan ol’ pal. We’re just having fun, right? Please?”
Jordan remained silent. He wanted to protest, but he couldn’t find the words. He clutched the armrest and stared at the muted television.
“I thought so,” the killer said. “What I want you to tell Agent O’Reilly is very simple. Are you listening? It’s very important he knows I’ll be taking a vacation soon. But my last kill will be the biggest thrill of all. I want him to prepare to say goodbye. Oh! I almost forgot. I left you a present out back. Something to remind you of our time together.”
“Wh-what what are you talking about?”
When there was no answer, the reporter glanced at his phone screen. The call had been lost.
He sat in silence for a few minutes before jumping out of his chair.
Putting his hand on the doorknob, he drew in a deep breath before he turned. Another breath, he pulled the door open.
He gripped the edge of the door when he saw it.
Slumped in his overgrown grass was his dog.
“Duke!”
The phone slipped from his hand and he rushed outside, but he knew nothing could be done.
A bouquet of white carnations rested on the bloodied golden fur.
Falling to his knees, Jordan rested his head against the dog’s still body.
61
“OKAY, JORDAN,” AIDAN said into the phone. “I’m coming right now. You didn’t touch anything, did you?”
“No.”
Aidan could hear the strain in the reporter’s voice. For the first time since they met, he felt bad for him.
“Good. Keep everything the way it is. We’re going to be treating this like any other scene.” Aidan paused. “I’m very sorry about your dog.”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “Me too.”
Aidan ended the call and searched for Shaun’s number. Cheyenne lay on her side, staring up at him. He stroked her head as a silent gesture that everything would be okay.
“Yeah?” Shaun answered on the third ring, Aidan could tell Shaun had been woken from a deep sleep.
“I just got off the phone with Jordan Blake,” Aidan informed him.
After he relayed what the reporter said, Shaun released a tired curse.
“Man, he killed the dog?”
“Yeah. Somehow, it seems he knows we were trying to bait him. But I’m going to keep our people on Carol, just in case. We’ll need to figure out another way to get him.”
“Does Jordan know who the offender is?” Shaun asked. He heard the sound of sliding drawers in the background.
“No. The caller had disguised his voice. I'm going to call in a trace, but—”
“Yeah,” Shaun muttered. “I know.”
The words that haunted Aidan echoed in his mind.
I can kill, and you can’t catch me.
Closing his eyes, Aidan tried to steady his breath.
“We’re going to get him, Shaun,” he said, his eyes still closed. He had to tell him that as much as himself. But it seemed The Carnations Killer was still ten steps ahead.
“I’m going to head over to Blake’s. Take a look.”
“I’ll meet you there.” It sounded as though he was trying to keep from yawning.
“All right,” Aidan agreed.
When he ended the call, Aidan set the phone on the bedside table.
“That’s so awful,” Cheyenne said, her eyes focused on the blank television. “I can’t imagine what that poor man must be going through.”
“Me either,” Aidan replied. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes. “I have to go. I
