by Jenna Kernan
“Where are you going?”
He drew up short at the site before them.
There, pinned to the tree with rope and arrows, just beyond the disturbed earth of Dennis Howler’s unmarked grave, was Jo Summerville.
Nadine stepped forward, raising a cloud of flies that had darkened the woman’s eyes and gaping mouth, now filled with what looked like cooked rice, but was, Nadine knew, blowfly eggs.
Maggots wriggled from the open wounds covering her lower legs.
“Dead,” said Skogen. “Son of a lying bitch!”
Nadine leaned in to read the note over Jo’s heart, pinned to the woman’s naked chest by an arrow, and read aloud.
“‘I have complied with our bargain, releasing my captive.’”
“Bastard.” Skogen ground out the word between clenched teeth.
Semantics; releasing her did not mean he would release her alive. Death was a kind of release, she mused.
Nadine stared at the woman, the friendly vivacious bartender from their favorite spot. Rage boiled, rising within her like hot wax. This was more than a game of wits. This was a mission and she would not stop until he was in a cage like the animal he was.
“I need to release Kilpatrick,” said Skogen.
“I need to speak to my team.”
Nadine saw something, a twitch at the corner of the woman’s eye. A shadow, from the ever-changing light dancing across the open patch in the forest, or the wind moving the corpse?
She leaned closer, thinking, Please don’t be alive.
She spoke, raising her voice to be heard above the wind. “Jo? Jo Summerville?”
The woman opened her eyes, choking as she stared directly at Nadine.
Twenty-Two
Jo Summerville died en route to the hospital. Mercifully, thought Nadine.
She remained at the site of the homicide with Skogen as he processed the scene. Axel Vea and Layah Coleman arrived, followed by men and women from both the Orlando and Maitland FBI field offices.
Crime scene photographers and techs came and went. Jo’s body, now at the hospital, would soon be in the hands of the medical examiner and Juliette had gone to help expedite that release.
The day stretched into the evening. The rain came in torrents, further hindering the investigation and soaking Nadine. The insects, deterred by the wind and rain, returned in force after the storm, driving Nadine into the vehicle until the repellent could be located. As the gloom was giving over to true dark, Demko arrived and took her to the safe house.
Nadine sat in the SUV, too tired to hold her head up, her forehead now cradled in the palm of her hand as Demko drove.
“He did as he promised. He released her alive,” she murmured.
“Knowing that she wouldn’t survive her injuries. He cheated,” Demko said.
“Serial killer,” she reminded.
He made a humming sound. She had not meant to sleep but must have dozed because she woke with a start as Demko pulled into an Applebee’s. The FBI protection unit pulled in beside them.
“Be right back,” said Demko.
Nadine watched him go, then nodded to the agent before fiddling with the radio, settling on NPR and a discussion of the red tide, algae bloom and the implication to fish. The topic seemed safe and she rested her head back, closing her eyes.
Demko must have called in an order because he was back within minutes. She had not thought she was the least bit hungry; in fact, she thought she’d never want to eat again after seeing Summerville’s final moments. But the aroma of fried food and seared beef roused her appetite. Her stomach growled in anticipation.
Back at the safe house, Molly greeted her, joyful as always to see them. Nadine showered, and emerged feeling half human to share a meal with Demko and Tina. Juliette had not yet returned and she suspected was engaged in an autopsy with the regional ME. Demko put her meal in the refrigerator.
After the leftovers were cleared away, Demko kissed her good night and she dragged herself off to bed. Before turning off the light, she reached in the drawer of the side table and spotted the ring box. It was still there.
She had a half thought it wouldn’t be. That his proposal was all a dream. Nadine opened the box and slipped the ring onto her finger again, wishing that marriage forecast happiness and a family instead of uncertainty. She needed to have a heart-to-heart with Demko. Until then, she couldn’t accept his ring.
But, oh, how she wanted to! She clutched her left hand in a fist and pressed it to her heart, cradling it with the other, like the infant she longed for and knew she would never have.
The lump rose in her throat and she sagged onto her pillow. She was lucky, she told herself. She had a wonderful man who loved her enough to wish to spend his life with her. A man who understood her in a way that no one else ever had.
For him, their future was bright and clear. He could conceive of no other outcome. But for her, their future was uncertain and strewn with dark prospects. A game of genetic Russian roulette.
And this ring meant she’d have to explain the gamble they would be taking. Then, if he still wanted her, she’d marry him.
Nadine glanced down at the ring, flashing with brilliant white shards of light. Then she squeezed her eyes closed and let the tears leak onto her pillow.
SATURDAY
Nadine woke with the lamp on her side table still on in the hours before dawn. As was becoming her custom, she moved to the seating area and her desk, flipped on the lamp and roused her desktop. She turned to her profile and hesitated. Then she wrote down the conjecture that had stirred in her mind for days. Putting it down in black and white only made her more certain that she was correct. There was a sick rightness about her theory. And the danger howling straight at her like a tropical storm.
The chilling panic gripping her throat with icy fingers made her more certain. Explaining this, speaking her theory out loud, would be difficult. She hoped to only do so once.
Nadine closed her laptop and noticed the diamond engagement ring she had all but forgotten she wore. She slipped it back in the box, promising to speak to Demko as soon as possible. After that, the decision would be his.
She waited until eight that morning to text her team. Then she fired a group message off to Skogen and his people, summoning them for a meeting at the safe house. She did not expect them to be done processing the scene, but they surprised her. Skogen, Coleman, Vea and Wynns arrived at nine that morning, joining her people at the large rectangular glass table.
“I just released Simon Kilpatrick, the prick. His mommy picked him up.” Skogen snorted out of his nose as if expelling an unpleasant odor and looked to Nadine. “So we’re all here.”
All eyes turned to her. She felt a rush of blood in her face and the tingling awareness lifted the hairs on her forearms. She dragged in a breath and summoned the courage she needed.
“The Huntsman’s manifesto was all about hunting, stealth and camouflage. Hiding in plain sight, just out of the notice of his prey.”
“We’ve all read it,” said Skogen.
Demko glared at him across the glass surface.
“Yes, and it was also filled with references to domain, building and protecting a territory from all competitors. He referenced the birds. Breeding pairs chasing others of their species from their territory.”
Skogen lifted an open hand as if he did not understand her point. She needed to be very clear. Leave nothing to interpretation.
“I have a theory that he did not target these women until after he established his territory. He chose this area and then he used the birding app to lure birders, waiting for likely victims to arrive. It’s unclear why he felt the need to clear the area of only female trespassers. But he seems to be attempting to prove himself worthy by clearing women from it.”
“That makes no sense,” said Coleman, spinning rhythmically back and forth on her counter stool.
Skogen said, “Worthy of what exactly?”
“Of being a provider, a protec
tor. I’m not sure. But he was showcasing his skill as a hunter. He chose this area, the place where my mother killed those women, then killed and displayed them to draw attention. My attention. He initially selected his targets at random because he was not trying to lure them. He was trying to lure me.”
Demko rose to his feet, shoving the chair backward. He lifted his hands from the glass surface, and she watched the heat outlines evaporate.
“That’s not it,” he said, leaning in, hands pressed flat to the glass surface. But he’d gone pale.
He thought it possible, terrifying, but possible. No one else objected, though both Juliette and Tina gaped at her.
“Unsubs often watch investigations. Even insinuate themselves into them,” said Skogen.
She shook her head. “Not the investigation. Me.”
“Explain,” said Skogen.
“First he chose this region. Intentionally because it was Arleen Howler’s territory. Then he made two kills designed to bring me here. Once he had accomplished that, he selected females with whom I had contact. I only once spoke to Bianca Santander. Linda Tolan and I had a confrontation in the hotel hallway. She clearly made herself a rival. April Rupp may have as well because we argued outside the rental when she learned we were FBI tied up in this case. Demko was there. And Jo Summerville greeted us every time that we went out to supper as a team.”
Tina gasped. Juliette looked stunned.
“She was a hostess,” said Nadine. “Check her taxes. She worked at the gastropub. My team ate there often.”
“Our favorite spot,” mumbled Tina.
Tina started to shake. Special Agent Coleman stepped forward to press a hand to her shoulder and Tina seemed to pull herself together.
“Santander, Tolan, Rupp and Summerville belonged to my outer circle. But he’s moving inward, toward me.”
Skogen’s digital forensic expert, Special Agent Wynns, spoke up. “She’s right.”
The pause stretched as each considered her theory.
“Following that logic,” said Special Agent Coleman, “he might attack any of the females in this room.”
“Yes. I believe that’s true. Eventually.”
Demko thudded back to his seat.
“We all need protective details,” said Juliette.
“Agreed,” said Nadine.
“He was targeting you before the leak?” asked Skogen.
“That’s my theory. He’s showing me how competent he is as a hunter. How capable of securing a territory.”
“How did he even know you were here?” asked Juliette. “How did he know where you were staying?”
Nadine shook her head. “I don’t know.”
She used her thumb to rub the spot where the engagement ring had been.
“Why?” asked Demko.
“Because he thinks we’re the same. I’m the child of a killer. Whatever motivates him to kill, he thinks he and I are alike. This is not his home territory. We need to go over the database again looking for people who have moved into the area within the last year.”
Wynns nodded. “I’m on it.”
He reached in his bag, retrieved his laptop and powered up.
“If I’m right, he’s done this before or something similar elsewhere. We need to find that series. Look for other cases like this one,” said Nadine.
“We need to surveil other possible targets,” said Skogen. “Nadine, you need to give us a list of any other women with whom you’ve had casual contact in this area.”
“I’ll work with her on that list,” said Coleman.
Even considering the limited time here, she thought that would be quite a list. Her mind started popping names and faces. The medical examiner for District 5, the cheerful receptionist at the hotel, the tattooed daughter of the gun shop owner. She nodded, momentarily flattened by the enormity of the task.
“He’s been targeting you from the beginning,” said Demko. His shoulders dropped.
“Yes. I think so. Maybe since my name appeared in the media with the last case. That might be when he moved to this location.”
Wynns scribbled something on the notepad beside his laptop.
“I understand why he’d pick you,” said Demko. “But I don’t understand what he wants with you. Is he planning to do to you what he did to those other women?”
“No. Mating ritual. A bonded pair,” she said, using the words from the manifesto and expecting one or more of them to laugh. None did.
“What?” asked Coleman.
She knew what she would say next was narcissistic in the extreme. It was a character flaw she had struggled with. But that did not make her conclusions any less true.
“He’s cleared my home territory. Impressing me with his displays of his victims. He’s moving closer. He’s not trying to outwit me. Has never been trying to outwit me. He’s trying to intrigue me.”
“We need more protection,” said Demko.
“Yes and no,” she said. “If I’m right, I’m your logical decoy. He wants me and he’ll come after me. Especially if he senses another male in his territory.”
Demko and Skogen faced off across the table.
“You’re a profiler. Not an investigator. You’ve never done undercover work,” said Demko.
“I won’t be undercover. I’ll be myself.”
“You don’t even carry a gun, for Christ’s sake.”
She regarded him, silently begging him to trust her. She needed to stop this killer. This was the logical way. Then she turned her attention to Special Agent Jack Skogen.
“Jack carries a gun. What do you say, Jack? Care to help me trap this bird?”
Demko was on his feet again, clearly realizing what she intended.
“Act as your ‘bonded pair’?” asked Jack.
She nodded. “That’s what I’m suggesting.”
“I’m not going to let you act as bait,” growled Demko. “This is a terrible idea.”
Jack ignored Clint and seemed to be weighing his options.
“Since we have a leak, only the people in this room can know about this. To everyone else, Nadine and I need to appear to be a real couple.”
“If he’s been following your first case, he’ll have seen in the news that we were together last year,” said Demko.
She shrugged. “We’ll make it clear that I’ve moved on.”
Demko gripped the seatback and thumped his chair. He stormed from the table, pausing in the doorway.
“Nadine. Could we have a word?” Then he continued out.
She looked from one silent staring face to the next. Tina and Juliette had her back. Coleman’s look was assessing. Skogen’s agents shifted uncomfortably. Only Jack smiled, seeming to enjoy Clint’s outburst.
“Excuse me,” she said.
She passed her security detail en route to the master bedroom. There she found Demko pacing from the seating area to the bed, with Molly trotting along. Did he know he was marching from the symbolic place of her work to the symbolic place of their relationship?
“You’re upset,” she said, clarifying the obvious. She knew that much. Was it because she’d placed herself in danger by volunteering as bait or because he was angry that he was not acting the part of her love interest? She took a guess.
“If it’s because I asked Skogen to act as the decoy, it’s his investigation. You’re here to assist. And I don’t want you being a target.” There, she’d covered both possibilities. Now she just needed to get him talking to see which one had him storming from the table.
He paused and stared at her, still as carved marble. Molly sat, eyes on her master. Now Nadine was the one shifting from side to side.
“Say something.”
“Is that what you think? That I’m a jealous child, unwilling to let another man near you? That I have so little faith in you, or in us, that I’d rant and cling?”
Cross that off the list.
“My idea is unconventional. But many serials have been caught because they established a
relationship with someone connected with the case.”
He lowered his chin, dangerously. If this had been her mother, she would already have been shouting, threatening and menacing. But Clint just stared at her, looking as if she had struck him.
“I’m not happy to have you act as a decoy. But I believe you might be right. This may be our best chance at catching this bastard.”
“Then I’m confused.” She was bewildered by his red face, yet calm tone. His entire approach was so different to either Arleen’s or Arlo’s. Both of them were volatile as nitroglycerin and apt to go off into a rage with the slightest nudge.
“I can see that.”
He stood before her, arms now relaxed at his side. His shoulders dropped and he took a long breath. She held hers as he released his.
“Nadine, are we a couple?”
She cocked her head, not understanding the question.
“I’m asking. Do you think of us as a couple or have I misjudged this relationship entirely?”
“Of course we’re a couple.” She was more confused than ever.
“Couples make major decisions together. They discuss things. They work things out and come to a compromise or some consensus. At the bare minimum, I would have expected you to mention this to me before throwing it out to a committee. This is a decision that affects us both. Do you not see that?”
Now that he mentioned it, it did seem obvious. She had blindsided him and embarrassed him by not giving him even the barest heads-up.
“I’m sorry. Yes. I should have done that.”
“If we are together, then this isn’t just about you. It’s about us.”
She stepped forward. He retreated. For someone who was trained to read other people’s emotions and understand relationships, she was certainly blowing hers. It was like a blindness with Clint.
“This hurt me, Nadine. You understand?”
“I should have consulted you. I’m not used to… I’ve been on my own for a while. I just… I blew it. Please forgive me.”
She wanted to make excuses. Blame the stress related to catching this killer. Blame her upbringing or anyone else that was conveniently at hand. It was exactly what her mother would have done. Take no responsibility for her actions. Blame every mistake on others. And that was why she kept silent, refusing to go there.
