by Jenna Kernan
“So did you.”
“Did I?”
His brow furrowed.
“Or was I expecting you?”
“I captured you.”
She stepped forward. “You did. Snatched me right out from under their noses. I would have loved to see their faces in the morning when they discovered what you had done. You’re everything that one is not. Brave, daring, smart and ruthless.”
“I’m all of that.”
“The complete package.”
“Like your mother,” he said, smiling.
“Like my grandfather. I wish you could have met him.”
“He was like us?” The eagerness in his expression made her stomach heave all over again.
“Yes. Like us.”
He grasped her by the back of the neck and yanked her to him, sweeping down to claim a kiss.
Nadine stifled the cry of disgust, managing only to keep herself from resisting.
When he pulled away, he glanced back to Jack, who appeared to have lost consciousness again. Nadine allowed herself to shudder in revulsion.
“Why not just let me roll him into the water. They’ll never find him.”
“You made a deal,” she reminded.
“But if you don’t care for him, why do you care what happens to him?”
“He’s FBI. They’ll never stop looking for him, and if he dies, they’ll never stop looking for us. Don’t you want to be clear of them?”
“Oh, we will be. Where we’re going, they can’t touch us.”
“Where’s that?”
“He’s not taking her north out of the state. He’s heading south,” said Demko. “He’s a naturalized citizen. Born in Cuba.”
FBI Director Gabriella Carter eyed him like a fly in her ceviche.
“You have zero evidence on which direction our suspect is taking. Or proof that Decristofaro is the Huntsman.”
“He hasn’t been at work in two days!”
“I’ll have an agent look into it. Happy?”
“I’ve done that. He’s not at his residence. She’s still missing and you have no leads, no suspects and no progress. We need to move operations to block him from taking her out of the country.”
“I assure you, we have all airports covered.”
“He’s not flying. He’s in a boat. A small one.”
“Detective Demko, you need to leave this to the professionals.”
“Exactly.” He spun and stormed from the field office.
In the outer lobby, Tina Ruz and Juliette Hartfield waited.
“And?” asked Juliette.
“They’re not moving operations.”
“What!” said Tina. “What’ll we do?”
“I’m going to pull every string I can find with the US Coast Guard while driving toward the coast.”
“I’m coming with you,” said the two women in unison.
An hour later, a startled vet had taken custody of a bird, a cat and a dog, while their three human owners piled into his SUV.
“Which coast?” asked Juliette.
The Huntsman had told Nadine he was taking her out of the country. His father had fled Cuba in the mid-1990s, escaping in a homemade raft to Miami with Lionel and his older brother, leaving his pregnant wife behind because the journey was too dangerous. Since then, his father had been unable to secure his wife and daughter’s escape. Lionel planned to return to reunite with his family—the mother he had not seen since he was a child, and the sister he never knew.
Miami was, in fact, closer to Cuba than it was the state capital in Tallahassee. Decristofaro had a shrimp boat in Crystal River, north of Tampa. He’d told her they’d work their way down to the Keys, as innocuous as a tractor trailer on any highway. From Key West, the island of Cuba lay only ninety miles south. Nadine’s courage slipped as she realized that, if Lionel succeeded, Demko would never find her.
He’d left her here, taking the flat-bottomed boat, as he made final arrangements. Nadine did not waste time verifying they were on an island because she feared that Jack’s condition was worse than Lionel had indicated.
She washed Jack’s wounds and the open sores blanketing his back. The bruising on his stomach caused her to suspect internal bleeding.
The Huntsman had taken the medical kit and lighter.
She sat with Jack’s head in her lap. Trickling water from a rag into his mouth, trying to get him to swallow. Her diamond ring flashed in the morning sunlight, streaming through the cracks in the planking.
Why hadn’t she told Clint yes! She’d been so full of fears of what might be, that she’d overlooked what could be. She wanted a future with Demko. She wanted to be his wife, and that meant she needed to be as fearless as her mother, without the crazy. She needed to survive this and tell Clint she would be his bride. If he loved her, he’d understand what had held her back and forgive her for her hesitancy.
She could not change where she came from. She could not change who had brought her into this world or the many relations in her life who had turned to darkness. But she had survived them, and if she could survive this, she could choose her future. She wanted that future with Clint. She wanted it enough to fight with everything she had to win the right to live with him as his wife.
They could make this work. They could share a life together. All she had to do was get Jack to understand where Lionel was taking her, and then keep Lionel from killing him. If Jack could survive to tell Clint, she knew Demko would never stop looking for her.
“Jack. Please wake up.”
How long until he returned?
Nadine soaked the dirt and debris from Jack’s tortured hands. Then she dabbed them dry and began wrapping them with strips she’d torn from her ruined nightshirt.
An idea struck her. She left him to pluck some leaves from the trees beside the dock. Then she returned to Jack and tucked the vegetation within the layers of fabric bandages on his hands. If they found him, they’d have something of this place as well.
Jack groaned, clearly in pain, and his eyelids fluttered.
“Jack!”
He moaned.
“Jack! Can you hear me? It’s Nadine. He’s taking me to Cuba. Do you hear me?”
His lips were moving. Was he trying to speak to her? She lowered her ear to his mouth but could make no sense of his mutterings.
“He’s taking me down the Gulf Coast. Crystal River to Key West to Cuba.” She said it again. Repeating it over and over. But it was useless. He was delirious. His mind shattered and his body pushed beyond its limits.
She tried again to get him to drink, holding the cup to his mouth as the liquid ran down his chin. But this time, he swallowed. Then again.
“Jack! It’s Nadine.” She started again, repeating her words, hoping he’d understand.
Her ring flashed again, a rainbow of hope in the dismal cabin. The idea struck her.
She slipped the ring from her finger and worked it onto Jack’s larger one, pushing it down his little finger as far as possible. The engagement ring stopped between the first and second knuckle.
Nadine then used a bit of charcoal from the fire to write “Keys to Cuba” on his palm. Finally she finished wrapping his hands, turning them into mitts, praying that Demko would find his ring and use it to find her.
The team had made a pit stop. Demko stood outside a Wawa gas station on I-4, waiting for Juliette and Tina, when his phone rang. His heart lurched at the caller ID. The call was coming from the replacement phone issued to Nadine during the body-double operation. The FBI had tried but been unsuccessful tracking the device.
“Nadine?”
“Naw, buddy. I just got her phone.” The male voice had a distinctive Southern drawl.
“Who is this?”
“That don’t matter. I got a message for you from the guy wit’ Nadine. Said you’s a friend of his.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at a truck stop on I-95 outside Lumberton. Some guy paid me six hundred bucks to call you from
here. Said Nadine stole your phone and you’d want it back.”
“Where’s Nadine?”
“Don’t know. Just saw the fella. Give me your phone and passcode. I’m running my rig up to Richmond. I’ll leave the phone right here at the counter.” He gave Demko the exit number and name of the refueling station.
“Where did he give you the phone?”
“Lauderdale. Listen, buddy, I got to burn rubber. We good?”
“No, sir. We are not good. I’m a Homicide detective and Nadine is a federal agent and a kidnap victim.”
Juliette had reappeared during this conversation and was already on her phone contacting Director Carter.
“Aw, shit!”
“The man who gave you this phone is wanted for multiple homicides in Florida and Nadine is his captive. You need to stay where you are until the FBI arrives to speak to you.”
“Hell with that.”
“You are a witness. I’m ordering you to—”
The call ended.
“Shit!” He turned to Juliette. “He hung up.”
She handed him her phone and he relayed what had happened to Carter. After the conversation, he handed back her phone.
“Are we heading in the wrong direction?” asked Juliette.
“Possibly. Or he wants the FBI to think he’s traveling northeast.”
“Well, the opposite is south and west. This way.” She pointed at the highway.
Tina spoke from behind him, making him jump. The woman was quiet as her cat. She held a sack of boiled peanuts and a Mountain Dew. The electric green liquid reminded Demko of radiator fluid.
“Someone found Nadine’s phone?”
Juliette filled her in and Demko’s phone rang again.
“I can track her phone again, now we know it’s on,” said Tina. “I have all her passwords.”
“Do that,” said Demko.
Tina went to work. “Yup. There it is.”
Twenty-Nine
The Huntsman had taken Jack at midday, leaving Nadine locked in a hog trap with bug spray, food and water. He had not returned until the following afternoon. At twilight, they’d crossed the inlet back to the tangle of mangroves. There he’d floated the craft onto the trailer and hauled it, and her, from the murky swamp.
Once back at the truck, Lionel gave Nadine a phone and let her make the call to Apalachee Hospital on speaker.
“Yes, I just learned that my fiancé was taken to your ER.”
“Would you like me to check for you?” The hospital’s operator had a nice matronly voice and a hint of Brooklyn in her accent.
“Yes.”
“Might not be in the system yet. Name?”
“Jack Skogen.”
“Let’s see. We have…” The woman went silent. “Who did you say this is?”
She looked to Decristofaro, who nodded.
“Dr. Nadine Finch. Is he there?”
“Yes. He is. Could you hold for a moment?”
Decristofaro took the phone and carefully ended the call. Then he dropped it to the pavement and crushed it under his boot. Extracting the SIM card, he snapped it into two pieces and threw them in the water.
“He’s there,” said Lionel.
“But I don’t know he’s alive.”
“Best I can do. Now let’s go.”
Here in the mangrove forest, no glint of electric lights penetrated the blackness. Tree frogs trilled and insects buzzed while the occasional brown bat swooped overhead. You did not have to venture far in Florida to find wild places. Everyone knew that Florida had thousands of miles of white-sand beaches. But it also had thousands of acres of mangrove forests and saltwater marshes. Where they flourished, few people resided.
“You left him at the hospital?” she asked.
“I left him where he’d be found.”
“Where?”
“Inside someone’s car at a motel near Tallahassee. Set off the alarm to make sure they found him quick.”
Had he been caught on surveillance camera?
“What kind of motel?”
“The kind nobody with money ever sees. Hourly rates. Privacy for the customers.” He pointed at the ruined phone. “But that, they can track.”
He motioned her forward with the electric prod. She rounded the vehicle, halting at the passenger-side door.
“Well. Climb in.”
Had the FBI found her engagement ring yet?
Gabriella Carter called Demko a little after one in the morning.
“We’ve recovered Jack Skogen,” she said.
“Alive?”
“Yes. He’s in a medical facility in Tallahassee.”
He asked for the address.
“Nadine?”
“No sign.”
“I’m on my way.”
The drive to Tallahassee took less than the four hours; it might have taken longer if he hadn’t used the lights and driven 120 miles per hour on I-4 with an escort from highway patrol.
Juliette sat in the front with one arm braced on the dashboard and the other clutching the handgrip.
“You know that won’t help you if we crash,” he said.
“I know it.”
Behind them, Tina was so quiet he almost forgot she was there.
At the hospital, they were escorted to the visitors’ waiting area outside the ICU and found Axel Vea. It was the first time they’d seen him since he’d taken a bullet. The only indication of his near-fatal shooting was the white gauze taped to his neck.
“Agent Vea.” Juliette gave him a hug. “How are you?”
“Better than Jack.” He made a face. “We have to catch this guy.”
“You’ve seen Skogen?” asked Demko.
The corners of Vea’s mouth turned down and he nodded. “It’s bad.”
“Is he awake?” asked Juliette.
Vea shook his head. “Sedated.”
Juliette peeled away to speak to the ICU nurses, ID in hand. There were places in a hospital that a board-certified physician could access that were closed to police.
“We think they’re heading north because of the location of her phone,” said Vea.
“Or he wants us to think he’s heading north,” said Demko. “Coleman and Carter think he’s taking her out of the state.”
“We discussed that possibility,” Vea said.
“Did you locate the trucker in Lumberton?”
“Yeah. He’s useless. Took the money from some guy in a hoodie. Phone was off and he didn’t turn it on until he called you. Apparently, you’re the first one listed in her favorites.”
“The phone. Wynns has it. From what I understand, it was switched off the night Nadine was taken.”
“By him?”
“Likely. On again at Lumberton.”
“Prints?”
“You must be dreaming.”
“DNA?”
“Yes. But Wynns doesn’t think he used it. So we aren’t hopeful.”
“Did you find anything new on him?”
“Yes, thanks to you. Suspect is Lionel Decristofaro. Search of his residence uncovered hunting supplies, bow and arrows, traps and two uniforms.”
“The missing bellman?”
“Used his uniform. Coleman found the bellman in Orlando working off the books at another hotel. He’s also undocumented. Decristofaro threatened him, made him quit the day Finch arrived. Admitted to giving Decristofaro his uniform.”
“He’s okay?”
Vea nodded. “Second uniform is from the forest service, a ranger. We’re checking with them, but believe it is stolen.”
Demko thought of all the rangers he had spoken to, comparing them in his mind to Decristofaro. A guy at the scene when they recovered the remains of April Rupp came to mind.
“You don’t have him?”
“No. He’s still missing.”
“Background, priors?”
“No priors,” said Vea. “He listed his permanent residence as Miami. We’ve sent our people there. Carter likes him for
our unsub.”
“He matches Nadine’s description. Slight build. Dark hair.”
“Yes. We’re hopeful that Skogen can provide more details. We have a photo of Decristofaro to show him.”
“When?”
“That’s up to the doctor.”
“Can I see him?”
“Of course,” said Vea.
They reached the protective detail at the door and Vea cleared them through, accompanying Demko and Tina to Skogen’s curtained enclosure, where they paused at the foot of the bed.
The man lying there was unrecognizable. The swollen purple skin of his face reminded Clint of the reaction after being stung by hornets. He looked more corpselike than many corpses Demko had seen.
That made him check the machines to see if the agent was breathing.
The apparatus blipped and beeped, showing oxygen levels, respiration, heart rate and blood pressure. Clint watched the line of Skogen’s heartbeat move across the green screen. Then he pinned his attention on Jack. An oxygen tube threaded over his pillow and fixed around his face. Tape held the intravenous line on the top of his bandaged right hand.
“Anything on the scene where he was recovered?” asked Demko.
“We’ve got crime techs there. They haven’t found anything to help us locate Nadine.”
“His clothing?” asked Demko.
“Boxers and bandages on his hands. They think it was strips from a T-shirt.”
“Nadine’s nightshirt?”
“Possibly. The strips were stuffed with green leaves.”
“What kind of leaves?”
Axel shook his head. “Our techs have them.”
“Got photos yet?” asked Demko.
Vea opened his device checking. “Yup. Already loaded.”
He pulled up the images and held the cell phone so all three of them could view the screen. Then Vea scrolled from one image to the next.
Demko checked each image, seeing evidence bags filled with elliptical green leaves and vegetative debris. Another showed soiled fabric strips. Vea slowly swiped from one image to the next.
“Stop,” Demko said. “Go back one.”
Tina moved closer and Vea retrieved the photo.
