Shaun sat on the couch and urged Aidan to do the same. Instead, Aidan began to pace the living room, almost burning a hole in the carpet. The things the women before Cheyenne endured flashed through his mind and he couldn't turn it off.
“We’ve got to find her, Shaun. I can't lose Cheyenne this way.”
“We’ll find him. I promise.”
His assurance didn’t do Aidan any good.
The living room began to spin faster, and Aidan sat on the couch, his head between his knees.
Shaun said nothing more. Aidan figured it was because there was nothing he could say to make the situation okay. Instead, Shaun placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.
Aidan sucked in several deep breaths, trying to contain his fears. He couldn’t fall apart. Not when it was more important than ever to find a killer.
“I’ve got to find her,” Aidan repeated, raising his head so he could look into Shaun's eyes. “She can’t become just another face on the news. She can’t—”
Still rambling, Aidan rose and began to make his way back to the bedroom. There had to be something that would tell him where to find Cheyenne.
Aidan stood in the doorway and watched as the agents murmured to one another about the writing on the wall. One of them looked his way and he saw pity in the agent’s eyes.
“Did you find anything?”
They shook their heads.
“Wait,” said an agent who was putting the carnation petals in a plastic bag. He used the camera he held to snap a photo of a brown book. Skimming it through, he said, “It’s a photo album. And there’s a note for you.”
Aidan stepped to his side. Because he wasn’t wearing gloves, he grabbed a couple of tissues from the bedside table and took the album.
FBI Special Agent O’Reilly—
Surprise! I left a very special gift for you: all the women I’ve killed in my lifetime. You think the fifty I have attached to my name is enough to make your skin crawl? Well, enjoy a little light reading. Now, your girlfriend is such a lovely young woman. Lovelier than the others. I suppose it’s because she’s yours. Well, I have her now, so I guess technically speaking, she’s mine. I'm going to enjoy your little girlfriend. And I'll be thinking of you all the time. I wonder if she'll cry out your name. I'll let you know. Anyway, this is our end game. Thank you for playing, and I do hope we’ll meet again.
Your friend,
The Carnations Killer
Aidan's hands began to shake as he read the letter.
The Carnations Killer wanted Cheyenne to be his last victim. Then he was going to vanish in the night.
Again.
Aidan skimmed the pages of the album. He could feel Shaun's breath against his neck.
All the pages contained full spread bodies of women, most wearing black dresses, holding a bouquet of carnations against their chests.
He recognized some of the women, others he didn’t.
Aidan heard Shaun curse under his breath.
“There’s got to be more than a hundred pages in that book,” the agent who found the album stated. “If they are all of women he killed, then—”
“He’s telling us who he killed,” Aidan finished. He went to the front of the book, and read the first page: Washington: May 2000 to July 2000 (3). He turned three pages, which contained three different women and found another title page on the fourth page: “California: January: 2001 to June 2001 (5). Six pages later, he found dates for the next year in Colorado, indicating he’d murdered ten women. The other title pages followed the same suit. Finally, the last entry was more recently in Georgia and had the photos of Maya Gibson and Jane Ridgeway.
“He’s sick,” the agent with the camera whispered. “He needs to be stopped.”
Aidan ignored the comment of the obvious and flipped through the book until he stared at the photo of the one victim he was the most familiar with.
The album slipped through his fingers and he hurried out of the room. Aidan fell to his knees and emptied his stomach. After he heaved a second time, he placed his palm against the wall, trying to compose himself. Aidan heard the agents muttering amongst themselves, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.
Sounds seemed to be distorted.
His mind raced.
He felt a massive hand on his shoulder, but he couldn't move.
Aidan heard the door open from downstairs, following the sounds of Monroe’s voice.
Finally, he found the strength to climb to his feet. Aidan ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt.
Without a word, he began to make his way down the steps to debrief Monroe.
65
THE VIBRATION FROM Aidan's cell phone went off on the table, but he continued to stare at the ceiling. He was spending the night on the couch. Shaun had offered his house to him, but Aidan didn't want to leave. He'd hoped Cheyenne would come waltzing through the door and what he'd seen in the bedroom was only a figment of his imagination. He'd hoped it, but knew it wasn’t true.
Instead, Shaun stayed the night despite Aidan's protests. He wasn't sure where Shaun slept, whether downstairs or in the spare bedroom.
Although Aidan tried, he couldn't find the means to sleep. Each hour on the clock ticked by one millisecond at a time as he lay, listening to the sound of the rain against the roof. He began to wonder if he'd ever sleep again. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he blinked...he'd see her.
He pictured him torturing her before he murdered her.
Aidan wanted to scream, but
