The Hunted Girls

by Jenna Kernan

  They shared a smile before Tina bombarded her with messages. The press mainly, requesting a quote responding to Dr. Crean’s new release and her comments about Nadine’s “deeper issues,” plus a few important questions from the psychologist who had filled her position in Sarasota.

  Before lunch she took a call from Juliette.

  “I wanted to alert you.”

  Something in the tone of her voice triggered all Nadine’s anxieties. She shot to her feet.

  “I got a call from Dr. Kline. She received a possible drowning victim from up in Putnam County.”

  Her hammering heart made it difficult to hear and she wrapped her free arm around herself to stem the shivering.

  “Where?”

  “Recovered in Grass Lake outside Fort McCoy.”

  “We don’t have any missing persons,” she said, as if saying so out loud might make this death unconnected. Her voice held an unwelcome hysterical edge.

  “Calm down, Nadine. It might be a simple drowning.”

  Don’t jump to conclusions, she thought. But her mouth had turned to cotton, and the cold sweat increased her trembling.

  “Yes. All right.”

  “We don’t know much yet. There’s significant decomposition, apparently.”

  “Age?”

  “Under twenty-five is the ME’s best guess.”

  “When is the autopsy?”

  “Today or tomorrow.”

  “Let me know when you have more details.”

  “Yes. Will do.”

  Demko made a rare visit to Nadine’s office at midday on Thursday and she filled him in on Juliette’s news on the body recovery.

  “ID?”

  “No,” she said.

  “I’ll go see what I can find.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Listen, I heard back from Willie Druckman,” he said, after Tina had left them.

  “Who?”

  “He’s the trooper in Putnam County. The one I asked to look into that red-tagged vehicle for you and Arlo.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes. Druckman came up with several F150 pickup trucks, tagged that way during that year.”

  He offered her a photocopy.

  “You going to contact Sean?” asked Demko.

  Sean Torrin was the FBI’s lead investigator on the Copycat Killer case who was now exploring several missing persons as potential victims of her mother. Unfortunately, Arleen had been uncooperative. But if Arleen had murdered their father, Nadine was ready and willing to get involved.

  “Not yet,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “If I tell about the tag, I remove the usefulness of the information Arlo wants to barter for parole.”

  She pondered her dilemma. The morally right thing to do was to give this intel to Arlo’s attorneys and help him get out early, as any sister should. But she could withhold it, destroying his chance of early release, because she feared he might present a threat to others. She was his sister. But also a trained psychologist. Either course held minefields.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I want to find my dad. I’m just not sure releasing Arlo is a good idea.”

  “You wouldn’t be the one making that decision.”

  “I’d be the one aiding him.”

  “Nadine. He’s your brother.”

  “You don’t know him. He’s got that darkness inside him.”

  “But keeping him in prison because of possibilities is wrong,” said Demko.

  For him, family came before society. But he didn’t go to bed thinking of the lives his mother destroyed. Or did he?

  When would Juliette have their DNA tests back? Knowing Arlo’s results, and if he had the genes that predisposed a person to violence, might help her decide. In her heart, she feared the day of Arlo’s release.

  “I’ll pass it on to him,” she said and lifted her phone to write an email to Arlo.

  Linda Tolan left her home darkroom after eleven, holding the photo of the summer tanager that had nearly cost her life, taken much closer to home, thanks to her sister’s willingness to stop on their return journey. Failing at sleep, she’d turned to work, hoping that the next time she lay down in bed it wouldn’t be in a cold sweat as memories assaulted her like thrown bricks.

  The photo of the cheerful, bright red songbird usually made her smile. But now, inexplicably, she found her hand trembling as the pain and confusion descended on her without warning.

  “Flashback,” she said. Linda had never had one, but she recognized the chill lifting the hairs on her neck and the twisting of her stomach.

  She carried the wet image to the kitchen, determined to hold it together. Her appointment on Monday with a psychologist would help her sort out her emotions.

  The unfamiliar sound caused her to freeze. It was a clicking. She lifted her gaze from the image and saw a man standing in the hallway before her.

  In his hand was a familiar pistol pointed at her. Her gaze flashed to his face.

  He wore no sunglasses or hat now, but she recognized him instantly.

  “No,” she whispered and dropped the photo, backing toward her darkroom.

  “We didn’t finish our hunt, Linda.”

  She reached for the knob, but her numb fingers fumbled. She couldn’t even feel them. Was she passing out?

  “Come along, now, my little rabbit,” he said, keeping the pistol aimed at her chest.

  She knew what awaited her if he took her alive.

  Instinct and terror washed through her and she ran at him, clasping the gun as he fired. The searing pain in her shoulder dropped her to her knees.

  He grabbed her hair and yanked, then punched her in the face. She was vaguely aware of being lifted and wrapped in something. Her head ached and her stomach rolled. She was going to be sick.

  It was him. He’d come back and this time she knew they would never find her in time.

  Fourteen

  FRIDAY

  Special Agent Coleman surprised Nadine and Demko at breakfast in the hotel. Her expression of urgency brought Nadine to her feet.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  They did, following her toward the waiting SUV.

  Had another woman been captured?

  “What’s happened?” asked Demko.

  “Jacksonville police logged a 911 call last night, possible gunshots.” She held open the passenger door.

  “Jacksonville?” said Demko.

  Nadine knew before Coleman confirmed her suspicions. It was hard to hear past the buzzing in her ears.

  “Police responded. Tolan’s sister reported being awakened by a single shot before midnight on Thursday and discovered her sister missing. There was blood in the bedroom hallway.”

  “Linda Tolan,” said Nadine.

  “Yes. She’s missing.”

  “You didn’t give her protection?” said Demko, the accusation unmistakable.

  Coleman looked away. “Deemed unnecessary.”

  Nadine gasped. Was this her fault? “I should have recommended…”

  “We could have had him,” said Demko simultaneously.

  “Yes,” agreed Coleman.

  The Jacksonville police had Linda Tolan’s boyfriend in custody. Agent Coleman headed north on Monday afternoon to interview him.

  Nadine doubted he would be a suspect for long. As Friday afternoon inched along, she could not stop thinking about Linda Tolan. She was likely alive right now, naked and locked in an animal cage.

  Again.

  She’d provided a likely search area but was certain this monster would have moved to a new territory. She struggled to guess where.

  The pressure to find Linda, and the knowledge that the task was just too much, squeezed the air from her lungs. She didn’t think the roadblocks or any other measures by law enforcement would stop him. Not this time. He was already back in the terrain where he felt safest.

  Where?

  Demko was out looking with highway patrol, sheriff’s
office and local search and rescue. Nadine tried to picture where she would take Tolan. She rested her elbows on the desk and placed her hands over her eyes.

  Think!

  With her eyes closed she pictured Linda’s recapture from the details provided.

  Where was he now?

  Safer to bring her somewhere out of the area. But that would spoil his fun and the game he was playing with law enforcement.

  Had the killer brought Linda all the way back here? Yes, she thought. Definitely. He would teach her a lesson. Teach all of them how clever he was, how effective.

  He wouldn’t be denied his playthings. She could almost hear his thoughts.

  No, not playthings, prey. My game is always in season. I have lots of hunting grounds and I know these jungles better than anyone. They can’t find her. They won’t. I’ll move deeper. Keep her long enough that she understands she’s mine to do with as I like. How long will I make her wait?

  “He wants notoriety,” Nadine said. “That’s why the bodies were dumped on a busy trail. Bound to be discovered. Could have buried them. Left them in a remote place. But it’s a performance.”

  “Dr. Finch? Who you talking to?”

  Tina’s voice brought her head snapping up.

  “Myself. Did they find Linda?”

  “No.”

  Nadine sagged.

  “You have to eat.” Tina held a Greek yogurt. “And Special Agent Wynns is here to see you.”

  Her admin was worried that she wasn’t eating enough and had already brought her a sesame bagel, an apple and a bran muffin. She now added the yogurt and plastic spoon to the lineup on Nadine’s desk.

  Tina ushered in Special Agent Kirk Wynns, who was in charge of digital forensics. He had hazel eyes, a head of unmanageable red curls and a freckled complexion.

  “Warrants were discharged for collection of the victims’ phone records. My team assembled their devices. We’ve dumped all their data and made personal topology for everything they’ve run in the last ninety days. All three victims showed commonality of certain apps.” He handed her a list, which she scanned, seeing the usual suspects that came with the phones and additional ones for weather, social media, travel, communication, banking, utilities. The list went on for two pages.

  “We also ran a check on the use of these apps and discovered that two of the victims used ones for navigation shortly before their abductions.”

  Nadine sat up straight. Was the hunter using a lure to draw his victims into his chosen territory?

  “Navigation to the trailheads?” she asked.

  “No. Near them. Used GPS coordinates. They lead to nothing that I can see on Google Maps.”

  “That’s odd. Isn’t it?”

  “I think so. Very exact. Like they were hunting for something.”

  “Which victims?”

  “Darnell and Tolan.”

  “Not Karnowski?”

  “No.”

  “Check her boyfriend’s phone or his vehicle nav program. He was driving.”

  “We’re doing that now. He’s cooperating.”

  She studied the map he supplied. They’d have to know this was the woods. Nothing there. Just… what?

  Remote locations. Private. What did he use to lure them in?

  “Do any of you have a theory as to why they went to these locations?” asked Nadine.

  “Unsure,” said Wynns. “Still waiting for some of the details from their phones, but none of their families or coworkers know where these women were heading or why.”

  “Texts and alerts?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” said the agent. “Hopefully, sometime today.”

  “Do you have their phones?” asked Nadine, surprised.

  “No. Digital footprint is all. It’s good but not as complete as the actual phone.”

  Nadine smiled at him. “Knowing the site of capture is a huge step. Thank you.”

  The agent flushed. “I’ll get you whatever else we turn up.” He lifted a finger and then tapped at his phone. “One more thing. Coleman said we have a report on the bullet retrieved from Linda Tolan’s apartment. Blood on the round is a match for Tolan and is the same caliber as her missing weapon.”

  “He used her own gun?” Nadine blinked in astonishment at the notion that this killer had stolen Tolan’s gun and then fired it off inside Linda’s apartment. Careless… unless… it wasn’t.

  “No way to make a complete match without that weapon.”

  He’d used her gun. She was positive. He likely had an arsenal of hunting gear, including guns, but he’d chosen to use hers and leave a bullet behind.

  “Thank you. I’ll share all this with my team.” She lifted the pages he’d provided.

  She stared at the data sheets and maps feeling the pressure of minutes. They had to find Linda Tolan.

  Tina stepped into her office immediately after Agent Wynns stepped out.

  “Dr. Finch, Special Agent Skogen is on the line. He wants to speak to you.”

  “Okay.”

  Nadine took the call.

  “He wanted us to know he would take her again!”

  She’d never heard Skogen sound so angry.

  “How do you know that?”

  “The Orlando Star received an anonymous letter this morning. In it the sender takes credit for the first two murders.”

  “You sure it’s from him?”

  “Whoever wrote it said he’d take Tolan again.”

  This was going to terrify the public.

  “Read it to me.”

  “Business-sized envelope says: ‘FBI Agent Skogen.’ Single folded sheet of paper, message is handwritten. He writes, ‘Welcome to my hunting ground. So, you have collected my two little offerings. Wonderful to know you discovered my lures and have warned my quarry. It won’t matter. They’ll still come. I saw you at the press conference. But you left one of your pack behind. She’s the one who found my little bird, isn’t she? Well, I’ll capture Lovely Linda again. Come and find her if you can.’ That’s it.”

  Nadine repressed the horror that clawed at her throat. She needed to think.

  “I’m the member of the team left behind?”

  “It seems that way.”

  She was already aware that this monster knew of her. Still, the letter shook her. Nadine cleared her throat, trying to summon her voice.

  “You have the letter?”

  “Our team is collecting it now.”

  “Where was it mailed?”

  “Orlando.”

  “Video of sender?” she asked.

  “Sent from a private shipping business. No camera.”

  “When?”

  “FedEx delivery label says Thursday.”

  The day Linda was released from the hospital.

  “He mentioned the press conference in the letter. He’ll be following the media from here on out,” said Skogen. “We can use that.”

  He was taunting the FBI. Reckless or overconfident? she wondered. The third possibility was that he was neither and his self-assurance was justified.

  “Simon Kilpatrick was in custody most of Thursday,” said Nadine.

  “He couldn’t have mailed the letter,” said Skogen. “Didn’t have time to get there before closing. So someone else mailed it for him, someone is just yanking our chain or—”

  “Our killer mailed it,” said Nadine, interrupting. “It fits. He’s displayed his victims. Had direct contact with at least one member of your team. Mentioned the recapture of one of his victims before it happened and told you he’s watching this investigation.”

  Skogen said nothing to this.

  “Get me a copy of the letter.”

  “Yes. Will do.”

  Nadine ended the call, knowing two things. This killer was calling her out. And he wasn’t going to stop until she stopped him.

  She held their video call in her office. Both Juliette and Demko appeared virtually. She filled them in on the digital data collected so far.

  Demko was int
erested in the GPS data and the slug recovered from Tolan’s apartment. Juliette latched onto the common apps. All had grim demeanors, reflecting their worry over Tolan. Like her, Tina, Juliette and Demko felt the weight of hours and their continued failure to find her.

  “How long do we have?” she asked.

  Juliette confirmed Nadine’s fears. “Based on all my findings, the time of death is three to four days after capture.”

  “So she’s still alive?” asked Tina, wide-eyed as a baby fawn.

  Nadine hoped so, but she knew, at this point, if Linda Tolan was not dead, she was wishing she were.

  “We might find her,” said Demko.

  He’d been out with search and rescue since they’d learned of the abduction. The view of blue sky behind him told her that he still was.

  “He might keep her until he has another,” said Juliette. “It’s what he did before.”

  Tina continued scribbling notes. She was turning out to be invaluable. Nadine had hired her out of pity and a feeling that they had too much in common for Tina not to be included in this odd inner circle. She’d underestimated her.

  “Anything on the hair sample from the headband?” she asked Juliette. Nadine had put her in charge of all the physical evidence and she worked closely with both the ME, FBI lab technicians and Agent Wynns to keep track of it all.

  “Hair samples are physically similar. Still awaiting DNA results. But those bleach stains. It’s likely yours.”

  Nadine looked to Demko, sitting in his vehicle somewhere with a background of palmetto palms. “Anything to add?”

  “No hits on Tolan’s gun.”

  She turned to the communication from the killer.

  “Skogen got me a photocopy of the letter sent to the papers.” Nadine looked to Tina, who pulled up the document and shared her screen. They were silent for a few moments while they read this important bit of evidence.

  Nadine looked down at the words on her copy, knowing he had written this, held the original paper in his hand and pressed a pen to the sheet to write his initial contact.

  “Fingerprints?” asked Demko.

  “None. And before you ask, it’s a peel-off envelope. No DNA recovered.”

  Juliette’s shoulders sank at this.

  “Hunting ground, quarry, pack,” said Demko. “Hunting terms.”