Chapter 2 - COLD HUNT - An Aria Hunt Crime Thriller
- foolishauthor
- Mar 28
- 6 min read
Updated: 7 days ago
Disclaimer
This is an unedited version of the book and may contain typographical errors, grammatical mistakes, or inconsistencies. If you spot any such issues, please don’t hesitate to report them to contact@thechaseaustin.com. Your feedback is greatly appreciated!
CHAPTER 2
The fluorescent lights in the hallway flickered at a frequency most people wouldn't notice—53 Hz, just enough to create a subtle strobe effect visible only to those whose visual processing worked differently.
Aria Hunt counted her steps to Agent Vaughn's office. Seventeen exactly, same as always. The carpet was industrial gray with flecks of blue that formed no discernible pattern despite her attempts to find one over the years.
She knocked three times, precisely. Not because superstition dictated it, but because one knock could be missed, two seemed incomplete, and four was excessive.
"Come in," Vaughn's voice came through the door.
Aria opened the door to precisely sixty-seven degrees, the same angle she always used. Agent Marcus Vaughn sat behind his desk, back straight against his chair, a posture that conveyed authority but also indicated mild lower back pain—evident in the slight tension around his eyes when he shifted. The office was 64 degrees Fahrenheit, three degrees cooler than the hallway. Two new photographs on his desk since her last visit, angled differently than his usual preference. Interesting.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Aria remained standing, hands at her sides, gaze fixed on a point two inches above his left eyebrow. Her go-to spot for simulating eye contact without the discomfort it caused her.
Vaughn gestured to the chair with visible impatience. "Sit down, Hunt."
She complied, positioning herself exactly centered on the seat. "Is this about the Louisville case?"
"No." His voice remained neutral, but his left hand tapped twice on a manila folder—a tell Aria had cataloged long ago. Vaughn was uneasy. Or annoyed. Most likely both. "This is something else entirely."
He slid a folder across the desk. Unlike the Bureau's typical red-striped materials, this one was unmarked. Aria opened it precisely along the fold.
Inside was a photograph of a man in his late sixties with military posture despite civilian clothes, standing beside a cabin in snow-covered woods. Another photo showed the same man lying slumped over a desk, a hunting rifle across his lap, the back of his head a bloody mess. The morgue photos were clinical—entry wound small and precise, exit wound catastrophic.
"Thomas Lawson," Vaughn said. "Retired FBI signals intelligence specialist. Found dead three days ago at his cabin near Whitetail, Montana. Local authorities are calling it an accident."
"Cause of death: accidental discharge of hunting rifle while cleaning," Aria read aloud from the report, her tone flat. "This seems straightforward. Why is it on our desk?"
"Because it pinged our system when the local Sheriff entered his information." Vaughn leaned forward, elbows on his desk. "Lawson retired five years ago after twenty-seven years with the Bureau. Moved to this remote town two years back. Then yesterday, this came in."
He placed a printout in front of her.
Found something disturbing in Whitetail. Not what it seems. Need to talk. Use the old protocols.
"He sent this to his former supervisor three days before his death," Vaughn explained, tapping the printout. "They had a call scheduled, but Lawson never answered. His old boss thinks he was just getting cabin fever—says a lot of retired agents who isolate themselves start seeing conspiracies where there aren't any. Happens more than you'd think."
Aria studied the message. "Did he indicate on what he wanted to talk about?"
"No. And now we'll never know." Vaughn's mouth tightened. "Local Sheriff's department is treating it as an accident, but the timing is suspicious."
"We have jurisdiction?" Aria noted.
"No, which is why we need someone there unofficially." Vaughn looked at her with an expression she recognized—resignation. She wasn't his first choice for this assignment. Probably not even his fifth. "Look, Hunt, I'll be straight with you. There's a task force heading to Denver, and everyone with seniority is tied up with that. This is probably nothing—retired agent gets paranoid in isolation, has an accident with his gun. Happens."
The subtext was clear. This was busywork, a way to keep Aria occupied while the important cases went to others.
"But you need someone to verify," she stated.
"Yes." Vaughn nodded, relieved she understood without him having to explain the politics. "Go to Whitetail, look around discreetly, confirm it was just an accident, and we close the file. If by some chance it wasn't an accident, report back immediately and we'll send a proper agent… I mean team." Vaughn blurted it out and immediately regretted.
Aria processed the assignment, recognizing it for what it was—a low-priority check-box that Vaughn needed completed by someone expendable. Despite her two years with the Bureau, her superior still viewed her as a liability in the field due to her condition. Her analytical skills earned respect, but her social difficulties made her colleagues uncomfortable. She knew exactly why she was getting this case, but saw no value in stating the obvious.
Instead, her attention was already caught by the anomalies in the report—inconsistencies that triggered her pattern-recognition abilities and made this seemingly insignificant case suddenly interesting.
"The local Sheriff has doubts," she observed, noting a highlighted section in the report where Sheriff Marrick had mentioned "inconsistencies at the scene."
"Probably covering his bases," Vaughn said dismissively. "Small-town law enforcement being thorough."
But Aria had already spotted three discrepancies in the initial report. The angle of the wound didn't match typical cleaning accidents. The timing of rigor mortis suggested the body had been moved. And the report mentioned an open computer tower with components missing.
"You'll go as Lisa Matthews, environmental consultant assessing watershed impact from the local logging operation," Vaughn continued, sliding a second folder across. "You'll stay at Whitetail Lodge—one of only two accommodations in town."
PREORDER "HUNTED" (An Aria hunt FBI Crime Thriller)
Aria opened the second folder, scanning the documents inside.
"Hunt, this is strictly observation. No badge, no gun." Vaughn paused, studying her. "Can you handle that?"
The question carried its usual weight—not just about the mission parameters but about her capabilities. Aria was used to it.
"I can fight." she replied matter-of-factly.
"Right. Well, hopefully none of that will be necessary since this is just a verification assignment."
"Parameters?" she asked.
"Three to five days max. Observe. Report. No intervention unless absolutely necessary." Vaughn's delivery was clipped. "Standard check-in protocol with the field office in Helena."
"Timeframe?"
"You leave tonight. There's a storm system moving through the region tomorrow. If you don't get in ahead of it, you could be delayed for days." He closed the file in front of him. "Any questions?"
"What specifically am I looking for?"
"Nothing in particular. But make sure you cover all your bases while investigating and don’t blow your cover and don’t give FBI a bad name." His dismissive tone betrayed his certainty that this was a waste of resources. "The most likely scenario is an old man became paranoid in isolation and had an accident."
Aria nodded once. "I'll require cold weather gear."
"Requisition what you need, but keep it minimal. Low profile." Vaughn stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Hunt, one more thing—"
She paused, halfway out of her chair.
"Try not to... stand out. I know social situations are difficult for you, but in a town that small, people notice outsiders. Just do the bare minimum, verify it was an accident, and come back."
The familiar weight of his doubt settled on her shoulders. Aria had heard similar concerns her entire career. Too direct. Too literal. Doesn't read the room. Despite her case record—perfect in analysis, above average in resolutions—the Bureau remained skeptical of her fieldwork capabilities.
"I understand," she said simply.
"Good. Report back when you get there." He'd already shifted his attention to his computer screen, dismissing her.
Aria left the office, closing the door to exactly the same angle she'd opened it. Seventeen steps back down the hallway, passing under those flickering lights.
Montana. Small town. Winter isolation. A dead FBI agent who'd found something worth reporting before his convenient accident.
Where others might see a throwaway assignment, Aria recognized the patterns forming. The discrepancies in the report. The Sheriff's carefully worded concerns. The missing computer components. Most of all, the timing—message sent, death follows, investigation rushed. These weren't coincidences; they were data points forming a pattern that her mind couldn't—wouldn't—ignore.
Her colleagues dismissed her social awkwardness, overlooked her combat training, and underestimated her determination. Vaughn was sending her to tick a box, expecting her to find nothing.
But Aria Hunt had spent her entire life seeing what others missed. Pattern recognition wasn't just her professional skill—it was how she navigated a world that never quite made sense to her.
Where neurotypical agents followed hunches and intuition, she followed data and inconsistencies.
Vaughn might see this as a throwaway assignment for his least-favored agent, but Aria recognized opportunity. A chance to prove herself. To solve what others couldn't. Let them underestimate her. Let them dismiss this case. The anomalies whispered to her analytical mind, promising a puzzle more complex than anyone suspected.
After all, seeing what remained invisible to everyone else was what she did best.
Reader Poll: First Impressions of Cold Hunt❄️🔍
You've read the blurb and the first two chapters… now it's your turn!
Do you like the story so far?👇
Cast your vote below!
Do you like this story
I'm hooked – Aria Hunt is a total badass.
Loving the slow-burn mystery and snowy small-town vibe.
It’s interesting, but I want to see where it goes.
Not quite grabbing me yet.
What do you think so far?
Drop a comment or email me at contact@thechaseaustin.com—I’d love to hear your thoughts!
PREORDER "HUNTED" (An Aria hunt FBI Crime Thriller)
Comments