by Angela Kay
“Last week, you visited McGinty’s Bar,” Aidan pressed. “And you had a conversation with a reporter, Jordan Blake. Do you remember the conversation?”
“Of course,” Kristen replied with a smile.
So.
She was being truthful about that.
It could go one of two ways, Aidan decided. Either Kristen figured Jordan had mentioned what they spoke about and decided not to lie, or she really had nothing to do with the murder.
Whatever her motive was for the truth, Aidan couldn’t get a read on her. He certainly wouldn’t want to play poker with the woman.
“Why did you leave after I told you O’Reilly didn’t know who the killer was?”
Aidan bit back a groan as he turned to see Jordan standing in the room.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had a few questions of my own.” Jordan glanced at Aidan, then back at Kristen. “Well?”
Seeing no choice but to focus on her, Aidan refocused his attention.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Kristen said with a flirtatious smile. “I just remembered I had somewhere to be.”
“Did you know I was going to be there?”
“Yes. I told you before, I’m a huge fan. I wanted to meet you. Is that such a big deal?” Kristen’s laugh was one of discomfort, though she tried to mask it. She glanced at her watch but didn’t speak.
“You left after finding out the Scavenger Hunter was still anonymous,” Aidan pressed. “Why? Do you know who he is?”
“Of course not. I would have asked Mr. Blake more questions, but I needed to go in a hurry.”
After a few more questions, Aidan and Shaun thanked Kristen and escorted Jordan out of the house.
“Are you intent on ruining our investigation?” Aidan asked him, pulling his arm toward the car.
“No.”
“Then you best do what you’re told,” Shaun instructed, a hint of anger rising in his usual calm voice. “Otherwise I will be the one to deck you next time.”
“Sorry,” Jordan snickered. “But what do you expect? I’m a reporter. I need news.”
“As promised, after the investigation is over, we’ll give you the exclusive,” Aidan told him, pushing Jordan against the car. He stood nose to nose with him, his fist clutching the irritating reporter’s shirt. “If you step out of line one more time, the deal’s off the table.”
“You can’t do that,” Jordan protested. He looked at Shaun. “He can’t back out of the deal, can he?”
“Do you really want to test him?”
“But…” Jordan said nothing more.
“Get in the car.”
Remaining silent, he did as told.
“Let’s wait a bit,” Aidan suggested. “Let’s follow her and see where she goes.”
65
Kristen had left her house twenty minutes after the agents walked out. She carried an overnight bag, tossing it into the backseat of her car.
As Shaun drove, Aidan pulled up the address they had for Max Van Camp on the GPS and was pleased to see they were going the same route.
“We’re about to solve this, aren’t we?” Jordan said excitedly, looking over Aidan’s shoulder.
“Sit back,” Aidan insisted. “And put your seatbelt on.”
“You’re a killjoy. You know that, right?” Jordan did as he was told with a groan.
When Kristen pulled into a driveway, Shaun hung back to keep them from being noticed.
“We should call for backup.”
“I agree,” Aidan said.
As Shaun made the call, Aidan checked his service weapon, then climbed out of the car. He opened the backseat.
“Give me your wrist.”
“What?” Jordan’s eyes grew.
“Your wrist, now.” Aidan leaned in snatching Jordan’s arm. He slapped handcuffs on him, the secured them on the door.
“What are you doing, O’Reilly?” Jordan exclaimed. “Come on!”
Aidan made no response as he climbed out of the backseat, a hint of satisfaction sneaking its way into his stomach.
“It’s for your own good,” Shaun told him as he climbed out and pocketed his cell phone.
They ignored Jordan’s muted protests.
“Backup will be here shortly. Want to wait or move in?”
Aidan considered the question. It had seemed to him Kristen was becoming more restless during their interview. He didn’t want to risk losing their edge.
“Let’s move in.”
With a nod, he patted the hood. “Sit tight.”
They made their way to the house but were stopped by an elderly man getting his mail.
“You folks arresting that fella?”
“What makes you think that?” Shaun wondered.
“He’s a strange one,” the neighbor said. “Gives my dog the creeps, and me, too.”
“What’s your name, sir?” Aidan asked.
“Herman Sherman. I’ve been keeping an eye on that fella for a couple of months.”
“Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?”
“Well, no, not since then.”
“What happened then?” Shaun pressed.
“He came home with one of those boxed fridges and another regular fridge.”
“And that’s curious, how?”
“I saw him through my window, there,” Herman said, pointing to the open blinds. “It was ‘bout ten at night. I know ‘cause my show was on then. He was looking around like making sure no one was watching. Then next thing I know, he was dragging two large trash backs into the house. And I promise you on my mother’s grave I saw an arm fall from the bag. Tell me that’s not suspicious.”
“Yes,” Shaun agreed. “It is.”
“The wife thinks I’m crazy. She thinks I imagined those things. Says I watch too much Dateline. What did he do?”
“We’re not able to discuss our investigation at this time,” Aidan said. “Thank you for your information, Mr. Sherman.”
Aidan and Shaun continued toward the house.
He considered what the man had said about his dog not liking Max Van Camp, then remembered Jordan’s friend mentioning his dog, Bandit, barking at Elijah.
It wasn’t Elijah the dog had barked at, it was Max.
The dog knew the young boy was trouble.
“Two fridges? Dragging two large trash bags inside in the middle of the night?” Shaun broke into Aidan’s thoughts, shaking his head as he released a curse underneath his breath. “What is going on in that house?”
“I don’t know,” Aidan said. They now stood at the door. “But I intend to find out.”
He rang the doorbell, then knocked twice.
The door opened, revealing a man. Looking carefully at his face, Aidan decided he had enough features to resemble Bryce Van Camp.
Behind him stood Kristen, her eyes wide in horror.
66
“Good afternoon, sir,” Shaun began. He introduced himself and Aidan. “Mind if we have a word with you?”
He forced a smile. “Sure. What can I do to help you?”
“Luke,” Kristen said. “Don’t let them in.”
“Shut up, will you?” Opening the door wider, he allowed the agents to step inside.
“Luke?” Aidan inquired. “She thinks your name’s Luke?”
“You’re not here to arrest me for fibbing on my name, are you?” Max said with a chuckle. “Never really cared for Max. And I already told that other cop everything I knew.”
“Yes,” Shaun agreed, “However, new information has come to light.”
“Such as?”
“Such as…,” Aidan said, looking at Kristen. “You denied knowing the Van Camps.”
“I-I thought his name was Luke,” she stammered.
Aidan offered a tightlipped smile. He didn’t doubt her truth this time. He looked at Max. “Have you been following along with the Scavenger Hunter investigation?”
“Of course,” Max said. “It’s major. I hear about it
everywhere I go.”
“Then I suppose you’ve heard the offender is targeting the children of the people involved with the death of your brother.”
“Yes, I have heard.”
“How does that make you feel?”
Max shrugged.
“Do you mind letting us take a look around?” Shaun asked.
“Sure, just let me see your warrant,” Max told them. He held his palm out as if ready to accept it.
“We don’t have one at the moment,” Aidan admitted. “But you don’t have anything to hide, right? All we need is to take a look so we can get out of your hair.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Kristen insisted.
Max kept his gaze on Aidan.
“Sure. Have a look.”
“Luke!”
“Shut your mouth,” Max hissed.
“I’m not going to go to jail for this!” Kristen said. She jabbed her finger at Max. “He killed those people! He forced me to kill my uncle, too! He kept me prisoner and would only keep me alive if I did whatever he said.”
“I said shut up!” Max backhanded Kristen.
Aidan and Shaun pulled their weapons but were too slow. Max slipped a corner, out of eyeshot.
“I’ve got him,” Aidan told Shaun. “You stay with the girl.”
As he was speaking, Kristen climbed to her feet and began running. Shaun bolted after her, at the same time making the call for backup.
“Van Camp!” Aidan kept his weapon in front of him as he moved through the house, listening for any sound or any movement.
The house fell into a deadly silence. He stood in front of a door and opened it.
It led to a dark basement.
“Van Camp? You down there? I just want to talk.”
He took his flashlight from his belt and clicked it on. Following the hazy glow of the light, Aidan made his way down.
In the car, Jordan tried working the lock on the handcuffs. Glancing up for a brief moment, he had to do a double-take as he saw Shaun chasing Kristen out of the house. She made her way into the neighbor’s yard, her gait remarkably quick. Still, Shaun seemed to be closing in.
Jordan returned to his task at hand.
He heard a click.
Finally.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Aidan surveyed the room.
A bed, a fridge, and a makeshift desk.
Above the desk was a pegboard with photos of his current victims, and possible future ones.
It seemed the room was empty, but he was certain Van Camp had fled down there. Something, a force of some kind, seemed to draw him toward the fridge.
Keeping his movements steady and slow, he walked over.
He opened the door.
Jordan climbed out of the car and made his way into the house.
Was the Scavenger Hunter in the house? Did O’Reilly manage to detain him? Or did he escape? He glanced around the neighborhood. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
He knew he should wait in the car.
But he was an investigative reporter.
He needed to follow through his investigation.
Hearing faint sirens in the distance, Jordan tapped his foot against the already open door and stepped inside.
The hunter followed the agent close behind, his revolver in his hand. The agent stared in awe in the fridge.
Aidan couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open. Before him, was the head of Ryan James. His heart quickened, then suddenly, he heard the floor creak. He turned quickly but was unable to raise his service weapon in time. Max dove for Aidan’s body, knocking him hard to the floor.
A punch came and Aidan blocked it, using his weight to force Max off him.
Max grunted as he fell over, but he recovered quickly, sweeping his leg toward the agent’s. O’Reilly fell to the floor, his service weapon slipping from his fingers, gliding over the floor. He let out a battle cry, driving the toe of his foot into the agent’s stomach.
Aidan braced himself for the kick, falling to his backside. Max fell to his knees, punch after punch connecting to O’Reilly. Although he kept himself in shape, it didn’t seem to be enough. Max’s punches had power.
Finally, he managed to knee him, then push Max off. Aidan roundhouse kicked him in the head, forcing the offender to fall hard to the cement floor.
Breathless, Aidan went to grab his service weapon from underneath the makeshift desk, then kept it trained on the offender as he walked to his side. But Max was keeled over, his hands on his head. Now next to him, Aidan kicked the weapon away, toward the door.
Then Max surprised Aidan by sweeping his legs across the floor, forcing him to fall.
Max yelled as he again climbed on top, then gripped Aidan’s hand, turning it to his chest so the barrel of the gun pressed hard against his skin.
Max’s smile was cold and of pleasure.
Blood and sweat filled his nostrils and Max came nose-to-nose with Aidan.
“The hunt is over,” Max whispered.
“Yeah. It is,” Aidan replied in kind. He twisted Max’s thumb, resulting in a scream from the killer.
The weapon fell to the ground and Aidan brushed it out of reach, but when a sound came from behind them, both looked toward the door.
Without hesitation, Max sprinted toward the opening to make his escape, then a sound of gunfire erupted, pausing Max in mid-stride. He jerked and fell from the force of the bullet wound, his head striking the floor.
67
It took Aidan a minute to collect his bearings before he pushed himself off the floor, then felt his pulse.
Still alive.
He looked up to see Jordan holding a revolver, eyes wide, hands shaking. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.
“Hey,” Aidan said, holding his hands in front of him. He slowly got to his feet. “It’s all right, Jordan. Give me the gun.”
“I-is he dead?”
“No,” Aidan assured him. He pushed Jordan’s hands down as he wrapped his fingers around the gun.
“Are y-you sure?” Jordan stammered.
“He’ll be fine.”
The reporter blinked at Aidan. “I didn’t know what else to do. He…he came at me…”
Aidan offered a smile. “You did good, Jordan. You did good. Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll handle things down here.”
Jordan nodded, slowly backing away, his eyes glued to the unmoving man.
Aidan glanced around, and not seeing anything better to use to tie Max Van Camp, he grabbed the bedsheets to wrap him up with.
Max remained unconscious as Aidan studied the pegboard.
“Aidan?”
At the sound of Shaun’s voice calling to him.
Aidan turned to face him. “Everything’s under control.”
It was then he noticed a freezer box.
Aidan walked over as Shaun came down the steps. He opened the box.
“Well,” Shaun said, now by Aidan’s side. “We found Jessie Barcliff.”
With a nod, Aidan tilted his head toward the fridge. “And Ryan’s head’s in there.”
“I’m sorry…,” Shaun said. “But did you say his head?”
“I did,” Aidan confirmed. “Where’s Kristen?”
“She’s being detained. The Aiken PD is here.”
As if on cue, more footsteps came from the steps.
Captain Roach glanced from Max Van Camp to Aidan, her eyes narrowed with wonder.
“He’s alive.”
Aidan walked over to the makeshift desk and riffled through the stakes of papers. Max had kept a copy of each riddle he’d given his victims.
Then, he found something of interest.
Not just interesting…
But fascinating.
“Hey, Shaun, look at this.”
His partner walked over, and Aidan handed him a birth certificate.
“Max Van Camp born to Jessie Barcliff and Bryce Van Camp,” Aidan said, looking up at Shaun.
Shaun c
ursed under his breath. “Max is their kid?”
67
After a long day’s interrogation, they learned Max found out by accident that Jessie Barcliff had given birth to him, but she didn’t want to raise a child. She left him with Bryce, but his parents refused to allow him to take on the responsibility of fatherhood. They had wanted him to finish high school and go to college.
Aidan and Shaun questioned the parents again, who had admitted that before Bryce’s accident, he wanted to tell Max the truth, despite their wishes. They had kept the secret for twelve years, ever since Bryce’s death. They couldn’t make mention of Jesse’s relationship with their son in case Max found out.
It was unknown whether or not Jessie Barcliff intentionally hit Bryce with her car, and the truth likely would never be found.
Whether she did or not, Max Van Camp made sure his mother did not get away with murder.
Though he was raised believing his father was his brother, and his grandparents were his parents, they were very close.
The death of Bryce had sent Max spiraling into darkness and despair, something he’d managed to keep hidden. When he found out the truth, he sought out his mother, who lived her life happy and free. Anger had fueled Max to commit murder, but it wasn’t enough.
The death of two people who started his world of hurt wasn’t enough.
Neither was killing the people involved.
So Max had decided to take away the things they loved the most: their children.
Aidan sat at his desk, keying the information into his system when he heard Jordan speak his name.
The reporter pointed to his face with a smirk. “What happened there?”
Aidan lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Ran into a door.”
“You look a little worse for wear.”
“Not too bad, Blake. You should see the other guy.”
Jordan hesitated, then opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head with a sigh.