Page 9 of Hunting the Crossbow Killer

Even knowing that the man was a murderer, it was hard to believe. He was well-spoken, sounded well-educated, and money didn’t seem to be a problem for him to solve by killing someone for their assets. The motorcycle he’d ridden wasn’t exactly cheap. The chief had mentioned that O’Brien owned a truck, too. And O’Brien himself had talked about hunting on his own land. It didn’t sound as if he was hurting financially, so a financial motive seemed unlikely.

Other common motives for murder were love and revenge. Did one of those explain why he’d crossed that terrible line and taken the life of someone else years ago? Or was he a thrill killer, a sociopath who took the lives of people as a way of playing God and experiencing the high of total control over another person’s life?

Three pages into O’Brien’s folder, the identity of who he’d killed had her frozen in shock. The man she’d met couldn’t have done that, could he? But there it was in black-and-white as she read it again. The woman he’d murdered all those years ago was Elly O’Brien. His wife.

CHAPTER FIVE

Aidan crossed his arms and leaned against the railing of the front steps of his cabin, watching the black SUV coming down the long driveway through his property. It was straight, by design. It gave him plenty of time to see anyone coming. And to prepare to either welcome them, which was rare and reserved for only a few, or turn them away. Since none of his extremely small group of friends drove a vehicle like that, turning them away was exactly what he planned to do.

But when the driver’s door opened and Special Agent Grace Malone emerged from the vehicle, he swore beneath his breath. If she had been a civilian, ordering her off his property was a given. He had every right, even as a felon, to make her leave. But an FBI agent? Since he was on parole, he was at her mercy. He couldn’t make her do one damn thing. Unless she allowed it.

As she approached, he forced himself to ignore the way his breath hitched at seeing her curvy little body again, or the way he was instantly intrigued by the intelligence shining out of those incredibly blue eyes. It didn’t matter that her smile made his gut tighten with desire. She wasn’t his friend or a potential lover.

She was his enemy.

He needed to remember that. She was a Trojan horse, compelling and beautiful on the outside but deadly on the inside. The only reason he was this affected by her had to be because he wasn’t used to being close to a beautiful woman these days. So few women dared to get anywhere near him. His unwelcome reaction to the agent certainly wasn’t because there was something special about her. And it wouldn’t matter if there was. She worked for the FBI. That alone was reason to avoid her.

Her smile broadened as she stopped in front of him and held out her hand. “Mr. O’Brien, it’s good to see you again. Grace Malone, in case you’ve forgotten since this morning.”

He glanced at her hand, but didn’t take it. “I haven’t forgotten, Special Agent Malone. You’re trespassing. Leave.”

She dropped her hand, her smile still firmly in place. “Irish, right? That slight brogue. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. Your family is from Ireland?”

“I’m busy, working. I’ve got nothing to say to you, so return to your vehicle and head back down the mountain.”

She sighed as if arguing with a recalcitrant child. “We both know the conditions of your parole. We can either talk here or I can escort you to the police station. Your choice.”

He stepped toward her until they were only a few feet apart, forcing her to crane her neck back to meet his gaze. To her credit, she didn’t move or cower away. If she was intimidated by his size or his reputation, she was doing an admirable job of hiding it.

“Special Agent Malone—”

“Call me Grace. I’ll call you Aidan.”

“Special Agent Malone, I’m a convicted murderer. You’re standing at the top of a mountain, alone, with me. The nearest neighbor is halfway down this mountain and likely not even home this time of day. You could scream as loud as you want and no one would hear it. You being here must mean that youstill think I could be this serial killer you’re looking for. Think very carefully. Are you really sure you want to play your law enforcement trump card to stick around and try to force me to answer your questions? Without backup?”

She flipped back her jacket, revealing a shoulder holster and the butt of a pistol sticking out of it. “This is my backup.”

He snorted with reluctant amusement. “You’re gutsy. I’ll give you that. I’ll also give you a tip. Standing this close to me, it doesn’t matter that you have a gun. I could wrestle you to the ground or snap your neck before you’d have a chance to draw.”

Her smile disappeared and she quickly moved out of his reach. “Is that what you want to do, Aidan? Snap my neck?”

“It’s Mr. O’Brien to you. And if I wanted to snap your neck, you’d already be dead. I’m giving free advice I learned the hard way, after spending a decade in prison. I’ve seen the horrible things that human beings can do to each other, things I never thought I’d see. And I pray to God you never do, even if you are in law enforcement.”

“What do you have against law enforcement? No one framed you. You didn’t even go to trial because you confessed, pled guilty. You weren’t mistreated by the justice system.”

“If you consider the time before I went to prison, I agree with you. I got a fair shake. It’s once they lock you up that everything changes. Ever wonder why recidivism is so high, why convicted felons reoffend at such a phenomenal rate after getting out of prison? It’s because the guards, law enforcement, everyone in the justice system treats them like animals while they’re locked up. Security for those in prison is a joke. There isn’t any. You have to be vigilant all the time, learn to be a light sleeper, watch your back constantly. I despise everything about the system from beginning to end because there’s no humanity or mercy in it. I’m wary of police, of people like you, because one wrong step and I can be snatched from my home and thrown back behindbars. I may look as if I’m free, but it’s in name only. I have to watch my back all the time or my life can change in a blink. Good people can go to prison, Malone, because they make some kind of terrible mistake. But whether you were good or not going in, you’re a completely changed person coming out.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. “Is that what you think? That you were a good person going in? Does a good person murder their wife?”

He could feel his face flushing with heat as anger rode him hard.

She subtly moved her jacket, giving her better access to her weapon if she needed it.

He swore and turned around, heading toward his workshop building on the far side of the cabin. At first, he thought maybe she’d changed her mind about risking being around him, that she was heading to her car. Unfortunately, a moment later he heard her footsteps behind him. From the sound of it, she was keeping well back, not so close he could turn around and grab her. At least his safety lecture had gotten through to her. Who knows? Maybe his advice would save her life in the future when dealing with some other criminal.

Not that he should care—about her, about anyone these days. He tried not to, especially when people treated him like the man they believed him to be. The townspeople often went out of their way to avoid him, making it painfully obvious they were afraid of him or that they despised him for his past. Perhaps because he understood how they felt, and knew he’d likely feel the same in their position, he couldn’t hate them for it or even hold it against them.

But he wished it didn’t bother him so much.

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