Flashing his best Jordan Blake smile, he said, “Good evening, ma’am. I’m with the guy in front of me. He’s my cameraman.” Jordan showed off his credentials.
“Ah, I’ve seen you on TV,” she gushed in a thick southern accent. “You’ve been reporting on The Carnations Killer.”
“Right,” Jordan said with a chuckle. “Yeah, I’m actually on the way to interview one of his victims. So, can I get through?”
“Sure!”
The arms blocking his way lifted. Jordan thanked her, then took off to catch up with his cameraman.
He spotted Kent before he turned left, then a right and into the driveway of a large house.
Jordan pulled to a stop at the edge of the street to watch as Kent parked next to a golden Camry. He climbed out of his car and went inside.
Jordan got out of his own car and jogged toward the house.
All the shades were drawn, so he wasn’t able to see inside. Slowly, he turned the knob and opened the door. He kept his ears out for sound but heard nothing.
The house was dark.
Where did Kent go?
It was cold inside, but he wasn’t sure if that was why his back crawled with shivers.
He paused to listen carefully for any noise.
He still didn’t want to believe his friend was The Carnations Killer, but the evidence he’d put together told him that he was.
After all these years of working with someone, you never know what they're capable of.
Murder.
Torture.
Evil.
All wrapped up in a man who showed his charismatic and good-natured side.
He considered the killers of the past that seemed normal: Ted Bundy, H.H. Holmes, John Wayne Gacy...none of them seemed like killers to the outside world.
Now added to the list was his friend and colleague, Kent Ory.
After a few minutes of surveying the house, Jordan began to wonder if Kent left. But why would he? And how?
He stood in the master bedroom upstairs when he heard a faint scream.
“Help me! Somebody, please!”
The words were laced with tears.
He tried to figure out where the screams were coming from, but he couldn’t tell. He followed the sounds downstairs until he spotted a door by the staircase.
Jordan reached toward the knob but froze when there was a tap on his left shoulder. He turned slowly until he was face-to-face with Kent.
“Boo.” Kent smiled. “Did I scare you?”
Before Jordan had a chance to react, Kent reached toward Jordan’s neck.
A shock of electricity exploded in him, and he released a strained groan, unable to stop the involuntary convulsions of his muscles.
Jordan fell hard to the ground.
“I really wish you hadn’t followed me,” Kent was saying. “You really need to learn to mind your own business.”
Kent grabbed Jordan’s arms and dragged him down a few steps, then after a few minutes, he found himself being chained to the wall.
“Wake up, buddy.” Kent patted his cheek. “Can you hear me?”
Jordan began muttering and Kent grabbed his chin, shaking his head.
“Wake up, brother. We’ve got to have a little chat.”
Slowly, Jordan’s vision began to clear. “Kent. What are you doing?” He tried to jerk his hands from the wall.
“I hate having to kill people that interrupt my work,” Kent frowned. “Why couldn’t you have just left it alone?”
Jordan looked around and saw a woman hanging next to him. Her head hung loosely, but she was alive and alert. Her body shivered either from pain or the cold. Maybe both.
“That’s the agent’s girlfriend,” Kent said proudly.
He walked over and grabbed the woman's neck, turning her face toward him. She was full of tear-stained dirt.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Why are you doing this?” Jordan asked.
Kent shrugged. “It’s all part of the game. I was just going to kill her. Leave her for our FBI friend to find. You know, after he got home from looking at your dead dog. I mean, she isn’t really my type, you know?”
He walked back to Jordan, his eyes shining with excitement.
“But then I saw her in bed, so beautiful, so peaceful. I figured why not?”
“What about Elaine?”
“What about her?”
“She loves you. And Jamie. How could you do this to them?”
Kent tilted his head back, erupting in a manic laugh.
“They won’t know. I’m too good at my job, Jordan, my pal. I am way overrated for my uses, and everybody knows it. All we have to do is leave. Trust me. I can always get a job taking pictures. Or maybe something technical. Or something low key such as a waiter. Kent Ory always has a plan.”
Jordan jerked at the chains binding him. “Kent, this isn’t who you are, okay? I know you. We go to bars after work. You’re my wingman, right? I’m your daughter’s godfather for crying out loud.”
He put on a mock frown. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to fire you from that job. I’m so sorry. It’s because I’m going to have to kill you. Can’t leave witnesses, you know.”
“Just tell me why. Why are you doing this? If you’re going to kill me, I think I deserve that much.”
“Yeah,” Kent replied. “Guess I could give you that much. It’s all because of my sister. She’s the one who said I was crazy.” Kent paced the basement speaking in manic. “Can you fathom that? So what, I threw the cat across the yard. I was only playing. Having a little fun. Isn’t that something children are supposed to do? And then when I heard her tell Mom what I did, I was sent to bed without any supper.” Kent let out a laugh. “But don’t worry—I got even. I always do.”
