“That’s true,” Shaun replied.
Brianna finished printing the pages and passed the documents to Aidan.
Jones went on to tell them Maya was well-liked. She was soft spoken, didn’t get into confrontations.
“Thank you,” Aidan told them. “If you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to call us or the sheriff’s office.” He left his card and they turned to leave.
6
HE WATCHED AS news reporter Jordan Blake recounted what the federal investigators released so far. As usual, it was nothing. He’d always been much too careful to leave evidence that would lead to his capture. After all, he was a professional. They only knew what he wanted them to know. Once, he left a riddle for the local law enforcement, but they weren’t smart enough to crack it. Or maybe he was smart enough to write a riddle stumping even the best of the best.
Either way, they never grasped it.
Well, not in time, anyway.
He had tried to give them just enough time to save one of his targets before she demised, but they were an hour too late.
It was a shame. But it still brought a smile to his face.
So far, the reporters didn't seem to realize the new girl—according to the reports her name was Maya Gibson—was his newest woman.
He was sure the police knew about it. They had to know. Especially since Special Agent Aidan O’Reilly more than likely told them. Law enforcement had that irritating habit of hiding things from the public.
But he’d soon change that.
He wanted to be sure the world knew he’d returned.
He wanted the world to fear him.
They needed to know he could—and would—strike anyone at any given time. He’d make the women wish they were dead. Then he liked to watch as they squirmed on the floor, trying to escape.
It never worked out for them.
Still, they never seemed to learn.
They always—always—pleaded for him to let them go.
I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Just please let me go home. I have a family. Please.
Waaaa.
It was funny how the tears of the women were like clockwork.
Why were they like that, anyway? Why did people cling onto hope when they knew there was none? Why did people pray when they knew it wouldn’t be answered?
He’d asked one of his targets a few years ago.
But all she did was whimper and try to crawl away.
He hit her across the temple with the tire iron, then demanded an answer from her. But still, she offered none.
It was irritating.
He was only naturally curious about why people hoped bad times would turn out good. What good was it when you knew, when you just knew, you’d die anyway?
Maybe there was a hidden answer to that riddle of life after all.
Maybe because they knew they were going to die anyway, the only thing left to do was hope.
A paradox.
It was a very interesting and curious concept.
Anyway.
Back to Jordan Blake.
He could tell the reporter was getting ready to sign off.
He knew the reporter’s birthday was in a few days, so he planned on leaving a card for him. He planned it so that shortly after receiving the card, Blake would get a text on his phone.
And all he would have to do is watch as Jordan Blake—a young man eager and desperate to make a name for himself—told the world The Carnations Killer had returned.
People like Jordan Blake were such easy targets.
They were also the most fun to use.
And easy to blame if ever it came to the time he needed a fall guy.
The key was to always plan the escape.
And he did so to the tiniest detail.
It was a game, really.
Much like playing chess.
You can’t play a game without first understanding the rules. It was no fun otherwise. And in order to understand the rules and play the game well, you have to know the move you’re going to make long before you make it.
Before he took—what was her name again? Ah, yes, Maya something. Before he chose her as a target, he had already started developing a plan for Agent O’Reilly. It was only polite, wasn’t it? After all, they’d worked together for almost ten years. It was even their anniversary coming up in a few months. It was a milestone, so he needed to do something for the agent.
Something special.
It was going to be the going away gift.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do yet, but he had a few ideas to sort through.
But first, things must fall in their natural order. Those were part of the rules. Jumping the gun would only cause him to make a mistake, and he knew Agent O’Reilly was smart. O’Reilly had done very well in his career, which made him both a threat and a thrill. He helped bring down not one, but two drug trafficking schemes, and he’d arrested a serial arsonist who killed four men and one woman. Those were only a few of O’Reilly’s commendations.
Yes, he enjoyed playing with O’Reilly.
Games were no fun unless you had a worthy opponent, and Agent O’Reilly was the perfect pawn. After he encountered him for the first time, he saw something in the young agent.
He saw dedication.
He saw passion.
He saw himself.
The news report was now over, and while Jordan talked to various people, he gathered his things and headed for the reporter’s office.
It was time.
7
Jordan Blake stepped into his office and
