The Hunted Girls

by Jenna Kernan

  Nadine was tempted to ask her why she knew so much about arrow wounds, but then thought better of it. She knew that medical examiners’ training involved working backward to identify what tool or implement made each wound.

  Nadine gave a grim summary. “In other words, the victims were starved, chased, used for human target practice and then had their spinal columns severed before feeding them to alligators?”

  “Yes. The perpetrator delivered no fatal wounds. In fact, the injuries seemed designed to inflict pain, rather than death. Extremities only, except for the single wound to the spine. No major blood vessels damaged by the arrow wounds. Those two injuries, only, were delivered from the rear. And though the second victim died from animal attack, she was already experiencing organ failure resulting from exposure and dehydration.” Juliette wrinkled her nose. “Do you think the alligator’s purpose was to dispose of the bodies?”

  Nadine shook her head. “No, because then there would be no reason to remove them from the water and cover them with dirt and dead leaves.”

  “I suppose.”

  “So he shot each, in the water, with an arrowhead that remained lodged in the spinal column. Then waited for the alligators to attack?”

  “He would have had a line on them, either before or after shooting them.” She flipped to an image of bruising around the torso. “These ligature marks are pre- and postmortem. Seems they were chained for retrieval. Looks like the sort used to chain a dog. See the mark from the twisted links.”

  “Then after the alligator attack and the victims had bled out, this killer dragged them to the riverbank and dug a grave?”

  “Not a grave, exactly. Victim one was loosely covered with debris and left near the water. Reminded me of the sort of treatment that bears, bobcats and panthers use to cover a food cache up in New Hampshire.”

  “Or a human, making a hasty effort to hide a body.”

  “If that’s what it was, he made a bad job of it. Close to a trailhead, close to the water and guaranteed to draw buzzards.”

  As if this killer wanted the bodies found. “He’s exhibiting them. But then why cover the first and not the second?”

  “There were small bits of debris found on the most recent victim.”

  Nadine latched onto this. “Do you think it possible she was covered and then uncovered?”

  Juliette nodded. “Might have. There’s a debris pile close by.”

  This might mean their killer had returned to visit his victims. Nadine smiled. Such a predator was easier to catch.

  “And returned to uncover her?”

  “Yes. And to masturbate.”

  Nadine would allow herself to feel all the pain and horror of the deaths later. After that, she’d permit herself to sink into the mind of a predator who enjoyed using a living person for target practice, leaving them to suffer, then returning to continue the job. A male who planned the entire hunt, carried the chain, altered his arrows and possibly returned to his kills.

  She needed information, puzzle pieces from which to construct a complete picture.

  “Any indication of direct sexual activity with either victim?”

  “Unable to determine with victim one.”

  “What about the other?” asked Nadine.

  “No. We don’t think so. Just the sperm on the body. But we did find something interesting.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sperm were viable.”

  Three

  Nadine thought about this for a moment. Visualizing the predator standing over the mutilated corpse.

  Not yet. Don’t go there yet. Wait for more pieces.

  “How long do sperm survive outside the body?”

  Juliette nodded, possibly in appreciation of Nadine’s question. “In ideal conditions, which these were not, sperm can survive for only a few hours. This body would have been somewhere between two and three days postmortem when this happened.”

  “We just missed him.”

  “It seems so.” Nadine failed to repress a shudder at the killer returning to his victims and becoming so aroused.

  “But he left us solid DNA, so that’s the upside,” said Juliette. “Skogen already delivered the sample for processing. They’re using the FBI labs to expedite the results.”

  It didn’t sound right. Was this killer so confident in his ability that he’d leave his DNA on a body? It didn’t sit well with her emerging profile of an organized killer who planned each detail. Returning to the victim held enormous risks and this guy had left each of his two victims for days where no one had found them. If he wanted to visit, why leave them in such a public place? It didn’t make sense.

  Judging from the timeline, it appeared this killer might be hunting for the next victim right now.

  “We need to make an ID,” said Nadine.

  “Working on it.”

  “I’ll come by to see that arrowhead.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  “Not right now.”

  There was a momentary pause and then Juliette closed the screen share. Her image instantly enlarged, filling the screen.

  Silence stretched.

  “You and Demko okay?” asked Juliette.

  Concern took over at the question, seemingly out of the blue.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “He stopped in at the ME’s office. Seemed sort of sad.”

  “Sad?”

  “Yeah. Just, off.”

  Nadine lowered her head.

  Juliette noted her withdrawal and her voice held suspicion. “What’s going on?”

  “He picked me up at the airport and I was in my car driving up here less than an hour later. We didn’t have any time together and these last few months have been really hard.”

  “I can imagine. He’s been working with the DA on the Copycat Killer case, and I know you didn’t have much leave from your training at Quantico.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But you two will find time, now that you’re working together.”

  Nadine made a face.

  Juliette narrowed her eyes.

  “Something else?”

  Nadine nodded. “He keeps talking about moving the relationship forward.”

  “Well, that’s super.” Juliette studied Nadine and her smile faded. “Isn’t it?”

  “Why? Why do we need to move anywhere?”

  “Obviously he’s missing something, or he wouldn’t want to move forward.”

  “We’re good together. What more do we need? He keeps talking about taking the next step.”

  “Next step, huh?” Juliette rubbed her chin, thinking. “Is he talking marriage, kids or what?”

  Nadine’s eyes bugged.

  “Okay, clearly that’s not what you want. Why is that?”

  “Not everyone is cut out to be a mother.”

  Juliette nodded. “This about your mother?”

  “Well, neither of us was raised by a soccer mom.”

  Which was true. Both Juliette and Clint were the children of mothers incarcerated for first-degree murder, while Nadine’s mom was on death row.

  Nadine’s mother, grandfather and great-grandfather were all convicted murderers. Small wonder worries about her own psyche had led her to study psychology and ultimately forensic psychology.

  “Soccer moms, huh? That’s true. But it doesn’t determine what kind of mother you might be.”

  “Doesn’t it? My role model had me carry the bloody clothing of her victims to the trash in hopes of tempting me to be like her. She was a cat bringing a wounded bird to her offspring, teaching me how to hunt and kill.”

  “Well, it didn’t work,” said Juliette. “Instead you’re a profiler and you caught one of the most successful killers in the country.”

  “Yeah, after I got shot.”

  Nadine’s first case as a profiler. She’d even determined early on that the Copycat Killer was imitating her mother’s crimes.

  Now she had a bullet wound to remind her that she wasn’t as
good at this job as others believed.

  But she’d learned something important. She wasn’t one of them. She’d had the chance, free and clear, of killing. Instead she’d seen their prime suspect arrested.

  Juliette shrugged. “Well, you’re the psychologist. Maybe figure out why you’re stalling with Clint.”

  She knew why. Fear.

  “You should see the videos of him with his son. He’s fun and supportive. A natural. He loves children.”

  “Ah. And you? How are you with kids?”

  “They scare me to death. They’re all potential energy and dubious outcomes.”

  “You’ve worked with too many juvenile offenders. That’s what you did in Orlando, right? Your first job after graduate school.”

  “Yes. And incarcerated felons. But I’m aware not all kids become… like my mother.”

  “Are you, though?”

  “If I could just find my dad. See him, talk to him. If he was normal, I’d be more willing to take a chance.”

  “By take a chance, you mean become a mother?”

  “Oh.” She exhaled and stared at the ceiling. “It’s so scary.”

  “Hell yeah, it is. But not for the reasons you think. Nadine, you’d be a great mother. You worry too much.”

  “Maybe.” She didn’t believe that for a second.

  “What does Clint say about all this?”

  She pushed back from her desk. “Oh, my God. I haven’t told him any of this. He hasn’t even directly said anything about kids because I keep avoiding this exact conversation.”

  “What? Why?”

  Nadine’s head sank. When she spoke, her voice was small. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  “If you keep stalling and refusing to share your fears, you might. Nadine, you have to let him know. Together, you two can work anything out. He wants real intimacy.”

  Her tone turned disgruntled. “I’m sleeping with him.”

  “That’s great. But I’m speaking of emotional intimacy.”

  Nadine huffed. She’d wanted to complain to a sympathetic friend, and Juliette had switched teams.

  “All my personal stuff is terrible, painful, embarrassing or all three.”

  “Relationships need to move forward. At least try.”

  “Yes. Okay. I will.”

  “Promise.”

  “Yes.” Nadine wiped her hands on the fabric of her slacks. “I don’t think I thanked you for dropping everything to come up here to help me.”

  “Catching that deviant will be thanks enough,” said Juliette. “Hey, are we having dinner together tonight?”

  Nadine hesitated.

  “Oh, unless you’re reserving all of your free time for Demko.”

  “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

  “Then you should spend time with him.”

  “No. We should all eat together as a team.” Was that because she was already looking to avoid the conversation that she so dreaded?

  Likely, she realized.

  Juliette gave her a dubious look, then changed the subject, bless her.

  “Oh, did I tell you? I got an alert after I checked in. There’s a nest of burrowing owls in Silver Springs. Do you want to go see them with me before dinner?”

  Nadine had more interest in making a speedy ID than she did in tromping through the woods to see owlets.

  “They want a preliminary offender profile ASAP, so…”

  Juliette took the rejection with a smile.

  “Okay. Maybe next time. Are you getting the alerts?”

  She’d shut them off instantly after getting the bird-spotting app at Juliette’s insistence. Her friend was outdoorsy, but Nadine preferred air-conditioning.

  “Oh, guess what? They’re letting me set up my spare cage for Jack-Jack next to Petunia.”

  “Will he be safe there?” asked Nadine.

  “I have the staff at reception’s assurance and I’ll keep him in his cage for now.” She glanced at her phone. “Six-thirty for dinner okay?”

  Nadine gave her a thumbs-up.

  Juliette ended the video call and she had two glorious hours to work on the profiling, interrupted only by Tina delivering coffee before heading out for lunch. Nadine ate her yogurt and apple at her desk.

  Skogen found her in the break room refilling her coffee.

  “There you are,” he said, by way of a greeting.

  He sat at the round table using the man-spread position, occupying as much room as possible. Nadine leaned against the counter facing him.

  “I have some news. Good news, I think.”

  “Yes?”

  “Our profiler, the one we expected, has been reassigned to California. I told DC that we didn’t need a replacement. They’ve agreed to appoint you as lead profiler.”

  Her eyes widened. “They have?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m just a consultant.”

  “You’ve assembled a team. You’ve a proven track record. You’ve completed the necessary training. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t take the assignment. Is there?”

  Other than terror and the constant feeling that she was a charlatan, there was not.

  “Nadine, don’t turn me down. We need you.”

  “This will be made public?”

  “Not at all. Your involvement will remain confidential, as we agreed.”

  “All right then,” she said.

  He rubbed his hands together in satisfaction and then rose. “Great. Just great.”

  He held the door for her and they parted ways.

  Nadine headed for her office and set to work collecting information on known offenders who had committed violent acts involving deprivation, torture or hunting behavior. Gathering commonalities among apprehended offenders of similar crimes was, in her opinion, a far superior method of giving investigations tangible information useful to the apprehension of a hitherto unknown suspect.

  She used the current crimes only, to find commonalities in offenders. This prevented succumbing to hunches, unsubstantiated assumptions or gut feelings. Data led her to her last suspect. This series would be no different.

  The devil was here in these details, the pieces that would lead to the killer.

  She had begun formulating both the suspect-based profile and very sketchy victims’ psychological autopsies. Knowing these background characteristics and understanding psychological qualities helped in creating a profile of the type of individual targeted by their killer.

  But the connections were forming now, an affinity to this killer building. She understood the hunt and the prey. She didn’t think that the capture was the part he relished. The victims were starving at the time of death. She believed that was not so much for pleasure on the killer’s part, as preparation for the hunt. He weakened them, and then, before these victims died of exposure, he released them.

  Did they run or attack? The images in her head reminded her of a bullfight, the weakened animal finally facing its tormentor, the odds no longer in the creature’s favor. Why did this killer feel it necessary to weaken his prey? Was he incapable of hunting otherwise?

  An old toothless lion, unable to bring down healthy prey?

  Or was it for the pleasure of seeing the desperation, turning them back into animals? Yes, that was it.

  Stripping away all veneer of humanity. Leaving what lay deep within. Turning them into wild creatures with only instinct. Fight. Flight.

  Escape or die.

  But there was no real chance of survival, was there?

  It only added flavor to the hunt. And he relished this part. Seeing the desperate hope in their eyes. Watching them run, naked, through the tangle of undergrowth. Knowing they couldn’t get away.

  She had already put forth that the unsub was likely male, an outdoorsman, but she now added hunting or trapping experience.

  Nadine did not yet know if he was using an unknown lure to draw likely victims into the territory where he felt most comfortable, or was patrolling a comfort territo
ry and capturing victims who chanced into that area. The two kinds of killers were very different, the first brought victims to him and the second attacked targets that happened into his range. One more premeditated and organized, and the other opportunistic. His method of capture remained unknown.

  Time frame was approximately a week between kills and his handling of both bodies involved outdoor body dumps in a public space.

  They had so little on the victims. Demko was checking local missing persons. Hopefully, they’d make an identification soon because the killer and victims were interdependent. She needed to know these women intimately to catch this killer. By focusing on the type of victim likely to be chosen she might extrapolate where she might live and what activities brought her and the unsub together.

  She could not save these two. But she could give their deaths meaning by letting them inform her profile and the hunt.

  For now all she had was their treatment at capture, imprisonment, murder and, ultimately, handling after death.

  All such killers sprang from somewhere and she knew that, although human behavior was unpredictable, it was also repetitive. This killer showed a similar technique with both known victims and already she saw commonalities, recurring behavior. She took those behaviors and broke them down into the sort of earlier crimes in which this unknown subject might have engaged. Just before two in the afternoon, she brought the list to Skogen in his office.

  “So, we should look for similar crimes committed on animals.”

  “Yes.”

  “‘Hunting behavior’?” he read.

  “I’m looking for similar treatment by stabbing or shooting at the living animal and/or similar disposal of the remains.”

  “‘Using living animals as bait’?”

  “Yes. Or partially covering the remains. That seems an invitation to scavengers, or possibly a way to shock the one discovering the mutilated carcass.”

  “How would we determine the kill wasn’t animal behavior?”

  “Animals don’t use arrows.”

  Skogen glanced at her list. “‘Trapping animals. Abuse of animals. Pornography related to bondage and torture’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sick puppy,” he muttered.

  “The mind determines what is or is not arousing. But that doesn’t change. What will change is the willingness to move beyond fantasy and into reality. Once the killer makes that step, he won’t turn back.”