The Hunted Girls

by Jenna Kernan

  Nadine had not seen Arleen since August, before closing her first case, some eight months ago. After discovering that Arleen had aided the Copycat Killer with those monstrous crimes, Nadine had also stopped sending money to Arleen’s account. That alone was bound to incite her mother’s fury.

  She’d had time to prepare for this encounter but still felt outmatched, David facing Goliath without even a single rock. Sweat slicked her palms as she scrubbed them over her face and sucked in a breath, readying herself.

  Arleen was among the first of the inmates to enter the visiting area. She glanced about, her face a hard mask of thinly veiled fury. Her focus pinned her daughter and her eyes narrowed dangerously, taking aim. Then she marched toward Nadine, who had decided to remain standing near the biggest guard she could find for this reunion.

  Her mother had lost weight, Nadine realized. The pale blue uniform now hung on her and the neck of the T-shirt gaped, revealing bladelike collarbones.

  “Well, there she is. La-dee-fuckin’-da. The prodigal child returns. Still digging into my business?”

  “Hello, Arleen.”

  She snorted. “You want to take a seat or you plannin’ some half-assed duel?”

  Nadine motioned to the preselected table and waited for Arleen to settle into one of the round stools with her back to the agent guarding Nadine.

  The general setup of the room reminded Nadine of any institutional cafeteria. But instead of the aroma of pizza and French fries, this room stank of unwashed bodies, mildew and desperation. They certainly weren’t wasting any money on air-conditioning. The room must have been eighty degrees.

  “If you’re here to try and stop me from publishing, you can go spit.”

  Nadine sat across the table from her mother, keeping her hands on her lap and out of Arleen’s reach.

  “I’m not.”

  “But you heard about the book. Right? I’ve got whole chapters on you. My only daughter. The one I protected from my little ventures and I don’t know how many of my men. And how does she repay me? Still have the knife in my back.” Arleen thumbed over her shoulder at the imaginary blade.

  She had practiced what she planned to say. And been very clear in her mind about what details she would share with Arleen, and which she would retain. Now it all jumbled together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She wiped the sweat from her brow.

  She did not wish to do anything that would jeopardize Arlo’s deal with the parole board. Neither did she want to put Arlo and Arlene at odds. They would be soon enough, because their mother would be livid to learn he had stolen her chance to avoid execution. Arleen’s attorney had offered a deal. She’d identify her victims in exchange for reducing her death penalty sentence to life in prison. Arlo’s deal threatened that. The less time her mother had to prepare, the better.

  “I’m working on a new case,” said Nadine.

  Arleen shrugged and flattened a hand on the table. “That mean you can afford to buy me something to eat?”

  Nadine rose and headed for the vending machines, following her mother’s instructions as to what she wanted. Not one healthy choice among them. No wonder her mother’s teeth were rotting away. Several were already missing.

  They headed back to their table past the other guests and inmates. Nadine noted the eyes turned in their direction, and conversations whispered at their passing. She was certain they were quite the celebrities. The notorious serial killer and the daughter who turned her in to authorities. Nadine knew that the one thing that inmates hated more than the guards was a snitch.

  Her mind flashed to Arlo again. How to protect him, and still get the information she needed.

  “You want me to send a few sample chapters from the book? I’d let you have some say if you was to start putting money back in my account.”

  It occurred to her that by law Arleen could profit nothing from any book deal. How frustrating that must be. Nadine pressed her lips tight and considered her words.

  “Awful hard to pay for what you need on the thirty-two cents an hour they pay me to fold laundry.”

  “I don’t want to see the biography. I don’t want to see sample chapters.”

  Munching on her chocolate bar, Arleen’s eyes narrowed as she regarded her daughter. Trying to puzzle out the reason for her visit and how she could leverage it to her advantage.

  “So what do you want?”

  “Anthropologists from the Florida Museum of Natural History were exploring remains of a Native American fishing camp and they uncovered a body. Two, actually.”

  Arleen stopped chewing. The glob of chocolate made one cheek stick out.

  “Where about?” she asked, her words garbled by the food.

  “Putnam County.”

  Her mother shifted on her seat.

  “Ocala Forest.”

  Arleen lowered the remains of the chocolate bar to the table.

  Nadine leaned forward. “River Forest.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  “No doubt,” Nadine said. “Male and female skeletal remains.”

  To this bit of news, Arleen smiled broadly, showing melted chocolate clinging between her remaining teeth. Nadine suppressed a shudder.

  “You know anything about that?”

  Arleen made a respectable attempt at looking offended.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because someone hit the male with a shovel and fractured his skull. You once told me you hit a man with a shovel, accidentally killing him. And the age of the skeletons match.” Nadine had no doubt that the blow had not been accidental, but she gave her mother this potential out, hoping she might reveal the truth. Nadine still had not decided if she should disclose that the identity of the man was known. But she could not figure a way to ask about her parentage without doing so.

  Arleen shrugged. “That could be anybody.”

  Nadine lost her temper. “It could be anybody. But it’s not. It’s Dennis Howler. They’ve made a positive ID.”

  Arleen’s brows shot up.

  “It’s my father.” Nadine watched her mother closely. She was rewarded by the clearest expression of duping delight she had ever witnessed. The completely inappropriate grin was wide and gone in a flash, the leaked expression derived from the twisted pleasure Arleen derived by deceiving her daughter.

  Now came the conundrum. Clearly, Arleen knew that Dennis Howler was not her father. But she had no reason to tell Nadine the truth. Should Nadine reveal that she knew as well, on the slim chance that her mother would volunteer the information she sought?

  “Well, what do you know?” said Arleen, lifting the chocolate bar once more and taking a vicious bite. Then she laughed.

  “You want to tell me about that?” asked Nadine.

  “Why should I?”

  And she had her answer. Arleen and she were solid adversaries. The only way she got information was by paying for it.

  “They ID the other body?” asked Arleen.

  “You know who it is.” Nadine suddenly felt exhausted.

  Meanwhile, Arleen looked energized. Her eyes sparkled. Even her posture had changed.

  “They’re going to come at me for this one. Blame it on the ex-wife. Figures.” Rather than seeming upset, Arleen revved up. “They want me to plead, they’ll have to make me a sweet deal. Keep that hypodermic needle and shove it up their own ass.”

  Arleen had been unsuccessfully attempting to negotiate a reduced sentence from lethal injection to life imprisonment for years. Nadine realized that the state’s desire to close this new cold case might be an opportunity for both Arlo and Arleen. The idea sickened her. She often wondered how much better her life would be after her mother’s departure from this world. It made her a terrible daughter. But perhaps a good person.

  “How’d they know it’s him?”

  “I don’t know. But they’ve asked me for a DNA sample.”

  Arleen’s eyes widened. She looked suddenly worried. “Don’t they got Arlo’s DNA on file?”

 
“I suppose. Either way. No difference. Right?”

  Arleen’s eyes narrowed as she tried to gauge what Nadine knew against what she was prepared to tell her.

  If they didn’t use Arlo’s DNA but Nadine’s, there would be no match. And Arleen’s hopes for a deal would dissolve like ice on a hot sidewalk.

  Finally Arleen shrugged. “Right. No difference.”

  And there was that smirk again. Duping delight at her daughter’s expense. She would not be asking her most pressing question because Arleen had no intention of revealing the identity of her real father.

  “You have anything else to tell me about this?” asked Nadine, giving her mother one last chance.

  “You want answers? You can buy a copy of my book ’cause I just added a chapter.”

  Nadine rose and left, pursued by her mother’s laughter.

  Two hours after arrival, she had cleared security at Lowell Federal Institution and drove her new shadow to Lawtey, to visit Arlo. They stopped only to grab some takeout, which Nadine now regretted as the fast food roiled in her stomach like the contents of an Amish butter churn.

  She reached the visiting area with her gloom continuing to cling like wet clothing. Her companion stood with the three guards in the observation office, behind the shatterproof window, her steady gaze on Nadine, who headed inside and sat, glancing from the cracked concrete floor to the greenish cinder-block walls, waiting for Arlo. Many of the inmates sat at the other round tables, already chatting with their guests. Several of the tables had checkerboards printed on the laminated surface. She wondered if there were any checkers. She knew only that she had never seen any.

  Beyond the guard booth, a bank of seven payphones waited. These were the sort that used credit cards rather than money. Above the seating area an L-shaped catwalk hung. Armed guards stood along the metal railings staring down on them like expectant vultures.

  Her mood improved only at seeing Arlo. He grinned and threw open his arms. They were permitted a three-second hug.

  Arlo stepped back, beaming. “There she is!”

  He motioned her to an empty table she’d already claimed, and they sat in adjacent seats rather than on opposite sides as her mother and she always did.

  “You look well.”

  “Yeah. Feel good. Working out and waiting to hear from my lawyer. He thinks I got a reasonable shot at early release.”

  Nadine felt guilty bringing Arlo more troubles. He certainly deserved some good news.

  “You were out in the forest recently,” she said.

  “Yeah. Sure was. They wouldn’t let me contact you. Obvious reasons, I guess. Wouldn’t want me escaping into the woods.” He laughed at that. “I think I was pretty close to wherever she buried Dad. She used to stop on that damned circle all the freakin’ time. Smoke and talk about Dad, what a piece of shit he was and how we were all better off without him.”

  “They found him, Arlo. Thanks to you.”

  Elation lifted his features. “They did? My attorney didn’t tell me.”

  “Not public yet.”

  “This is good news, only…”

  Was it now occurring to him that he’d been right? That their father was really gone and was never coming back?

  “You wish you were wrong?”

  “I guess I hoped that he was out there and just smart enough to get clear of our mom. Always wished he’d come back for us when he got settled. Stupid.”

  “It isn’t. I used to want the same thing.”

  They shared a long silent stare and the sorrow at being right. Finally Arlo let his head hang. She waited for him to digest the bitter pill she’d given him. It didn’t take long. Arlo was strong that way. When he lifted his head, his eyes were misty.

  “So Dad never ran off. He’s been here all along.”

  “Yes,” she said. “They made a positive ID.”

  “My lawyer said if we can show a murder, my testimony against Mom can be leveraged for my release.”

  “Mom’s planning to use a confession to the crimes in exchange for a sentence change to life in prison.”

  “How does she know?” he asked.

  “I told her today.”

  “Well, shit.” Arlo thought about that for a while. “She’s free to try. We all do what we gotta. Where was he?”

  Nadine told him all about it. About her visit to the grave site and what she had seen. When she finished, Arlo was scowling.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Spill,” he said, gesturing with his fingers for her to hand over whatever was troubling her.

  Her big brother might be a danger to society, but he had always had her back.

  She told him everything. About the DNA match to him, the identity of the other body, that Dennis Howler was murdered with a blow to the head. He listened as she babbled on, a tumbling brook of information, about the soil and second body and green sandal, finishing with the news that he and she had different fathers. Dennis Howler was not hers.

  He took her hand beneath the table. “I’m sorry, Dee-Dee. Sorry we were right about where he’s been. Sorry that this just means more questions for you.”

  She wiped the tears from her face with her free hand. “Did you know?”

  The guard behind her barked from atop the catwalk. “No physical contact!”

  Arlo drew his hand back. She huddled, sad and hollow, needing a hug now more than ever in her life.

  “Did you?” she asked.

  “I didn’t. But…”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Dee-Dee, you don’t look anything like him. And you and me… our faces are a completely different shape.” He pointed at his cheeks. “You got no dimples. No cleft chin and my hair is curly.”

  “And you have his hazel eyes.”

  “How could you remember that?”

  “From the two photos you rescued before the bonfire.”

  “Oh, right. You have them?”

  She nodded.

  He inhaled and then blew away a breath. “So now what?”

  “I guess I’d like to join Aunt Donna when she buries your dad.” Her chin sank to her chest. “Arlo, Donna isn’t my aunt anymore.”

  “She’ll always be your aunt.”

  “She took me in, helped me through college. I have to pay her back.”

  “You don’t owe her, Dee-Dee. Family is more than blood.”

  She nodded, understanding but not accepting his belief, but praying Aunt Donna would feel the same.

  “And on the burial, how about wait on that? I’d like to be there.”

  “Sure. No hurry.” Nadine wrung her hands under the table. “Arlo? Any idea who my dad is?”

  THURSDAY

  Yesterday they had run background checks on each dark-haired male between twenty and forty-five, and had identified which had hunting and fishing licenses in any of the three counties targeted in her geographic map.

  Last night Nadine worked from the safe house, reviewing the database on the server that included each available photo, criminal records, wants and warrants and known associates for all the men that Demko and Skogen’s team had provided that fit her criteria in her suspect profile.

  This morning she was at it again, sitting with her computer and coffee at the dining room table when Demko appeared holding an open laptop.

  “I was going over surveillance footage with the digital forensics agent. We want you to see something.”

  She couldn’t imagine what this was because despite scouring the hotel security recordings from the time of her arrival, they had made no progress on identifying the Huntsman among the guests. They knew he had been in the room opposite hers, but they also knew he’d gained entry through the window.

  Demko set his open laptop on the table before her. Agent Wynns offered a good morning from the screen via video call. Demko explained that he had asked about any personnel who had recently quit or left employment at the hotel. There was only one. A man who had worked midnight to seven at the bell stand and had le
ft with no notice.

  “Then we found this.” Wynns shared his screen, running the security video clip of a man in a bellman’s uniform in the breakfast area the morning after Nadine arrived.

  “Who is he?”

  “Unknown. Manager initially identified him as one of his people. Originally named this man as the employee who had left. Trouble is, this is the morning after he failed to show for his shift. And employees that we’ve spoken to do not recognize this person,” said Wynns.

  She studied the footage of the man, who kept his head down. “Is that him?”

  Demko nodded. “We have video of him leaving the hotel after Santander. She heads to the bus stop on Wednesday after her shift. He approaches her, wearing a uniform of some kind, then accompanies her back to his pickup truck.” He met her gaze. “His truck has a white cab.”

  “Plates?”

  “Nope. Got the make and model, though.”

  “Is the bellman, the one who left without notice, dead?”

  “We’re checking.”

  “Why are you just seeing this now? You’ve been over this surveillance footage again and again.”

  “There was nothing suspicious about a woman getting into a vehicle at a bus stop.”

  Nadine pressed her hands to her forehead.

  “How did he know that you’d call me to profile?” she asked. “How did he know I’d stay at that hotel?”

  “Serial killer in your mother’s home territory. You just finishing your training at BAU and your recent success with the Copycat case,” said Agent Wynns. “Seems a logical leap.”

  “Timing is perfect,” added Demko.

  Her gut had told her that the Huntsman had been watching her the morning she had not finished her breakfast. Had witnessed the interaction between her and the breakfast attendant, Bianca Santander.

  Now they had proof.

  Nadine arrived at the sheriff’s office at nine-thirty in the morning with her escort and was shown into the interview room.