by Angela Kay
“What about the murder weapon?” Aidan pressed.
“We just got the ballistic report back an hour ago,” Captain Roach told him. She opened another file and passed Aidan the paper.
He looked it over before passing it to Shaun, then gazed on the captain’s face. “Looks to be the same weapon used to kill one of our victims.”
“Remarkable,” Shaun replied. “Do you know where we can find McCoy’s niece?
The captain shook her head. “We did find that she worked at Target as a part-time employee, but they haven’t heard from her. One day she didn’t show up for her shift and no one had been able to contact her. We acquired her address on file, but no one was home when we went.”
Aidan pushed out a breath. “And you don’t have cause to search her home.”
“No.”
“Do her coworkers know anything about this girl?”
“One mentioned a boyfriend. A…,” she looked through her notes, “…Richard Jarvis. Miss McCoy had made mention that Mr. Jarvis worked as a tax accountant at H&R Block. On questioning him, he said they’ve dated for almost three years before she broke up with him about a month ago.”
“She ended it with him?” Shaun asked. “Was there any provocation?”
“Mr. Jarvis said he was taken by surprise. They were going on well before he went out of town, then when he got back, she’d begun ghosting him until she decided to end it. They hadn’t had any arguments during the last few weeks of their relationship.”
Kristen McCoy quit her job, broke up with her boyfriend, and vanished. She had no family, except for Uncle Horace, who had recently been shot in his home with a Springfield XDM—the same weapon used to kill Ray Parsons.
Meanwhile, she goes to the very bar Jordan was at, arranged to meet him so she could ask him intuitive questions about the Scavenger Hunter. Then she left after learning the FBI did not have a lead on the offender’s identity.
It was too much to be a coincidence, Aidan decided.
They needed to find out more about Kristen.
“Give us the information on Richard Jarvis and we’ll question him as well.”
“Of course, Agent O’Reilly. I’ll have my lieutenant give you all you need.”
“Thank you for your help, Captain Roach,” Shaun said as they rose.
“Glad to do so. If I find anything that may be pertinent to your case, I’ll let you know immediately.”
With a single nod, Aidan walked out of the office with Shaun and Captain Roach in tow.
“Lieutenant Berry,” the captain called out. “Give these agents anything they ask.”
After Aidan and Shaun received the details on how to get in touch with Richard Jarvis, they left the police station.
61
“What exactly is the FBI interested in Kristen for?” Richard Jarvis leaned back in his chair. His hands were folded in his lap. His eyes narrowed as he studied his visitors with curiosity.
“She’s a possible witness in a case we’re investigating,” Shaun said. “When was the last time you saw or heard from her?”
“Well, like I told the cops before, Kristen broke up with me after I got back into town. It was about a month ago.”
“Did she give you a reason?” Aidan wondered.
Richard pushed out a heavy breath. “She said I no longer interested her. Apparently, my life was too boring for her.” He shrugged. “I get where she’s coming from. Life as an accountant tends to be boring.”
“Other than you, is Kristen close to anyone? Does she have a family?”
“Nah, her folks died when she was young. Her uncle raised her, but she hated him.”
“Did she say why?”
“She never wanted to talk about it, so I never asked. Oh, I guess she and my friend had gotten pretty close,” Richard said, sitting up straight. “Colin. He mentioned taking her out one night for a few drinks.”
“Really?” Jordan had been silent during the interview but now raised his eyebrow.
“It’s not what you think,” Richard said. “I’d asked Colin to look after her while I was gone, in case she needed something.”
“Have you spoken to Colin since Kristen ended the relationship? Has he spoken to her?” Aidan wondered.
“Yes, I have, and no, he hadn’t.”
“Mr. Jarvis, to your recollection, has Kristen mentioned the Scavenger Hunter to you, or perhaps Bryce Van Camp?”
Richard narrowed his eyes, studying Shaun carefully. “Wait a minute, here. You aren’t insinuating Kristen is behind the killings in Augusta, are you?”
“We’re not insinuating anything,” Aidan said. “Kristen is merely a possible witness.”
“And why is that?”
“Because she spoke to me about a week ago,” Jordan said. “She started asking me questions, trying to find out what it was that I knew about the murders.”
Aidan shot Jordan a quick glare, but the reporter, as usual, ignored him.
“We think she may know something,” he continued.
“Well, let me assure you, Kristen wouldn’t kill another person,” Richard scoffed. “That’s absurd.”
“What about her uncle?” Jordan pressed.
“I don’t know who killed her uncle, but it wasn’t Kristen.”
“We’re not here to blame Kristen for any of these deaths, but we do need to speak to her,” Shaun said. “Is there a way for you to contact her, to arrange it?”
Richard shook his head. “She’s not talking to me. I went to her house after she ended the relationship, and it looked like she hadn’t been home in days.”
“So, you have a key?”
“I do.”
“Would you be willing to let us take a look?”
Richard remained silent for several minutes. “I’d be glad to…when you show me a warrant.”
“Fair enough,” Shaun said. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jarvis. You’ll let us know if something comes to your attention.”
“Of course. Sorry I couldn’t be much help.”
62
Although they didn’t get anything useful from Richard, and they didn’t have enough to get a warrant, Aidan wasn’t about to lose hope. He had a strong feeling that they were closing in on something. It was a feeling that he couldn’t figure out where it came from, but Aidan knew there was something there.
The question was how to find it?
They had discussed the fact that Max Van Camp, Bryce’s youngest brother, lived in Aiken. When Harrelson questioned him, no red flags were raised.
But now, it was enough to make Aidan wonder what was really there. However, they had nothing but conjectures, so neither Aidan nor Shaun wanted to question Max without concrete evidence that he may be involved in the killings. So far, there was nothing to link him to Kristen McCoy,
To start, they decided on searching Horace McCoy’s home.
If Kristen murdered her uncle, or even if she had someone else kill him, maybe there would be something there.
But, after an hour, neither Aidan nor Shaun found anything.
That was until Jordan called for them to come to the guest room.
It wasn’t as much a guest room as a junk room with a twin bed.
Several boxes were on the floor, clothes and old jackets were strewn carelessly about.
Jordan was sitting on top of a ratty blanket on the bed, rummaging through a box marked kitchen. His eyebrows scrunched together, as he stared down on a postcard. Envelopes and other papers sat in his lap, some fallen to the carpet.
“You find something?” Shaun asked.
“Maybe,” Jordan replied. “Maybe not.”
He held up a small postcard. Shaun accepted it and read the contents.
“Jury summons.” He looked at the reporter.
“See the date?”
Shaun looked down again, then back at Jordan. “October 1, 2008. So?”
“What do you mean, so?” Jordan said as if it were plain as sight. “That’s the same year Bryce Van
Camp was killed. A jury trial happens months after arraignment, right? What if Horace McCoy served on the jury? And the address is in Augusta.”
Aidan craned his neck to see the summons. After careful consideration, he decided it was were checking into. So far, Jordan’s instincts seemed sound. He was right about Kristen—he could be right about this.
“All right,” Aidan told him. “We’ll humor you.”
“So you admit I might be right?” Jordan inquired, a smug grin spreading across his face.
“So we’ll humor you,” Aidan reiterated. “When investigating, we don’t want to leave any stones unturned. You know that.”
Jordan laughed. “You can’t admit that I could be right, can you?”
“If I found something that I need to admit,” Aidan replied hotly, “Then I’ll admit to it. In the meantime, I’m following all leads, no matter how farfetched they may seem.”
He pulled out his cell phone and took the postcard from Shaun, who watched the exchange with interest.
Aidan called the number of the Augusta-Richmond County Judicial Center.
When they answered, Aidan identified himself, offering them his badge number to cut through the chase.
“I’m investigating the Scavenger Hunter killings,” he told the man on the phone. “We believe the murders have to do with an involuntary homicide in two thousand and eight. Can you look into your records and tell me what trial a Horace McCoy was summoned on?”
“Yes, Agent O’Reilly,” the man said. “Give me a few and I’ll check it out.”
“Thank you.”
As he waited for an answer, Aidan covered the mouthpiece of his phone.
“Is there anything else we can use? Something to help us with getting a warrant?”
Shaun shook his head.
“It only looks now like this girl Kristen was only interested in a murder investigation. No judge will sign a warrant based on that.”
“We should stake out the house,” Aidan suggested. “See if she shows.”
Jordan wrinkled his nose. “And if she doesn’t?”
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Aidan replied.
“I could get in,” Jordan offered.
“You’re kidding, right?” Aidan scoffed. “Are you capable of getting the truth without being a sleazy swine? You break in, we won’t be able to use anything. Our only hope is to either find a way to get a warrant, stake out the house, or convince Richard Jarvis to let us in.”
“Agent O’Reilly?”
Aidan’s attention refocused on the phone call. “Yes?”
“Mr. Horace McCoy served on the jury October 5, 2008, on an involuntary vehicular homicide.”
Aidan’s heart seemed to jolt with excitement.
“Who was on trial?”
“Jessie Barcliff and Ryan James.”
63
Aidan, Shaun, and a very restless Jordan sat in the car, three houses from Kristen McCoy’s house. After an hour of the reporter’s relentless complaining about having to sit still, Aidan weighed the consequences of punching him in the other eye.
“Look, I know you guys don’t always go by the rules,” Jordan continued his rant. “Why can’t you just let me get inside?”
“Well,” Aidan began, turning to look at Jordan in the back seat. “It would give me a great reason to arrest you.”
Jordan smirked. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“No. I’d love that.” Aidan turned to Shaun. “You know, on one hand, things are falling into place. Horace McCoy was involved with the Bryce Van Camp trial. On the other hand, the kids of the ones who touched Bryce in some way are the ones who are the victims. So, why was Horace McCoy killed and not Kristen? What does she have to do with our offender? Think this is mere coincidence.?”
Shaun's lips turned into a frown as he concentrated. “You don’t believe in coincidences. And as far as this investigation goes, neither do I.”
“We could find out if we’re wasting our time sitting here if you’d just let me go inside,” Jordan pointed out.
“Hush,” Aidan instructed.
Kristen needed a change of clothes. She decided to go back home and get a few outfits. Since she’d quit her job, money was beginning to run out, and although she’d asked Luke if he’d spot her a few bucks, he’d told her no. She decided he must have still been upset that she murdered her uncle. Kristen didn’t understand why. The man was cruel and deserved to die. What did the kids of the judge do? They were barely sixteen years old? Or, what about the son of the doctor? He was eighteen, and according to the news, a good student. Stephanie Carpenter and Aimee Hollander were also decent people.
They were merely unlucky because they were the offspring of people who destroyed Bryce Van Camp’s family’s life.
They were innocent.
Uncle Horace McCoy was not.
She pulled into her driveway and turned off her car.
“Hey,” Shaun said, tapping the side of Aidan’s shoulder with his hand. “We’ve got movement.”
Aidan watched as a woman got out of a Toyota, then glanced back at Jordan, who had his eyes closed. He figured the reporter had finally nodded off to sleep since he hadn’t spoken for the past thirty minutes.
“Blake.” Using an old Styrofoam cup, Aidan tossed it, hitting Jordan in the chest.
He woke up, with a scowl on his face. “What’s your problem?”
“Look,” Shaun said. “Is that Kristen?”
Leaning over the front of the car, Jordan looked through the windshield, at the woman walking inside the house.
“Yup, that’s her all right. We get to go in now, right?”
“We get to go in,” Aidan corrected, pointing between himself and Shaun. “You’re staying here. Do we need to cuff you to the door?”
Jordan scowled. “No.”
“Good deal.” Aidan looked at Shaun. “Ready?”
“You bet.”
Kristen shut the front door behind her, making her way into her living room. As she walked through the house, she felt more like a stranger than ever before. She managed to buy the house when she turned eighteen by using the trust fund and college fund her late parents had set up for her.
She was never interested in going to school. She wanted nothing more than to be free of her uncle, and at the time, Kristen decided her parents would have been okay with her decision.
As she grabbed clothes from her closet, her thoughts were shattered by the doorbell.
Shaun knocked after Kristen didn’t answer the door.
“Think we scared her off?” Aidan wondered. He stepped to the side to peer through the open blinds but saw nothing.
“Unless she’s guilty of something, what reason does she have to run?”
Kristen considered sneaking out the back door but decided against the idea. She had no reason to worry. It was likely a nosy neighbor.
She went to the door and opened it.
Two men stood in front of her, one looking like he could bend metal.
But that wasn’t what worried Kristen. She recognized both men from the news. They were the agents investigating Luke.
“Kristen McCoy?” Aidan asked. “I’m Agent O’Reilly, this is my partner, Shaun Henderson. May we have a word with you?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s this about, officers?”
“We’d like to ask you questions about your uncle, Horace McCoy,” Shaun said.
Kristen frowned. “I haven’t seen Horace for several years. Whatever you think he did, you’re probably right.”
“I’m sorry to inform you, but your uncle was murdered last week.”
“Oh? Can’t say I’m surprised. Horace wasn’t a standup guy.”
“May we come in?” Aidan pressed.
It was obvious to Kristen they wouldn’t go away easily. She decided the best course of action was to play their game. After all, there was nothing to link her to Horace’s murder.
She offered a smile.
“Sure. Come on in.”
64
“Like I said, it’s been several years since I last saw Horace, so I’m not sure how I can help you.”
“Don’t worry, our questions won’t take long,” Aidan promised. He glanced around the cozy living room, seeing pictures of Kristen with a few friends. Some photos were of a young girl and a couple. He assumed they must be her parents.
“Well, I’ll, of course, help you the best I can.” Kristen sat in a recliner, crossing her legs.
Aidan and Shaun took the couch.
“Do you know if your uncle had any enemies?” Shaun began.
She shrugged. “Probably. He’s a creep and a predator.”
“Predator?” Aidan echoed. “How so?”
“He’s dead now, so what does it matter? If you’re wondering whether I killed him, the answer is no.”
Shaun nodded. “I see. Miss McCoy, are you aware of the murders that have been taking place in Augusta?”
Kristen nodded. “Of course. It’s been all over the news. But…what does that have to do with Horace?”
Aidan explained what he could say about the case, watching Kristen’s expression carefully. She kept her face free of emotions, turning her pink painted lips down in a soft frown.
“Wow, that’s super close to home,” she told them. “Should I worry?”
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to be cautious.”
It was best for her to think they didn’t have anything on her. Of course, they didn’t, so they needed her comfortable. It was the only way for her to offer information, and quite often, something unintentional may slip.
“Had your uncle ever mentioned Bryce Van Camp?” Shaun inquired.
Kristen shook her head. “Not that I remember. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t be much help to you.”