The Hunted Girls Read online

  Had her father never returned because he was another of her mother’s victims?

  She wondered about this often, and if he was like his sister, her aunt Donna—a successful, smart, normal woman who had adopted Nadine when she was a teenager after she’d testified against her mother—or if he was like Arleen. Nadine was near desperate to discover that at least one parent had been kind and nurturing and normal. It was the only antidote she knew to the horror of being the daughter of Arleen Howler.

  While she was up here, back in Ocala, she might just see if she could dig up more about her father’s disappearance. She had to admit it was a reason she had jumped to obey Jack Skogen’s orders the very same day she received them.

  “I wonder if you were able to obtain release time for Dr. Hartfield?”

  “Yeah, that’s a go.”

  Nadine stifled a yawn. Skogen met her gaze.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Long day.”

  “With plenty more to come,” he said.

  “So tell me. How were these bodies discovered?”

  “Forest service. On Sunday, one of their maintenance crews was doing trail work, clearing brush near the river, and came upon them. That was three days ago.”

  “The two were in close proximity?”

  “Yes. In the same area. Forty feet apart. Arnold spotted the first one, which he reported was uncovered. Forest service discovered the second body in the vicinity after that. That one had been there longer, maybe a week or more. Found covered with dirt, leaf debris and some branches.”

  Nadine drew the folder onto her lap. “I see. You mentioned the initial victim appeared to be an animal attack?”

  “Yes. Predation by something. Crushing injuries. Initially the sheriff believed the deaths were the result of an alligator attack.”

  “What changed their minds?”

  Skogen reached into his pocket and withdrew something in an evidence bag.

  “Medical examiner. She agrees that there was predation while the victim was still alive. Severed the spinal cord and would have left the victim paralyzed but conscious. But alligators don’t leave their kills out of the water and they don’t use these,” he said.

  “What is it?” She glanced down at the shiny bit of pointed metal.

  “It’s a high-carbon steel arrowhead. One removed from each victim.”

  Nadine took a moment to internalize the horror of an attack by alligators in which you were alert but unable to move. Then her mind went to work profiling. Male, comfortable in the woods, bowhunting experience, anatomical knowledge…

  “Dr. Finch?”

  She flicked her attention back to Skogen, having been lost in thought.

  “I’ll let you get some rest. See you in the morning.”

  Nadine nodded and rose to shake his hand, but the moment he turned his back, her mind latched onto her profile of an emerging killer.

  Two

  WEDNESDAY

  The floor of the hotel breakfast bar was sticky by the orange juice machine, and the aroma of waffles pervaded the air. Nadine continued her phone conversation with Dr. Juliette Hartfield on her wireless earbuds as she filled her travel mug.

  “What does that mean?” asked Nadine. She was mindful that her conversation could be overheard, and that the earbuds and her long hair combined to make it seem like she was talking to nobody.

  “Just that I arrived at work this morning and before I even opened my mouth, I was given my reassignment. Who did you have call my director?”

  Nadine finished filling her mug and stepped out of the crowded room and into the alcove by the elevators.

  “The lead investigator. He said he’d see what he could do.”

  “Well, apparently what he can do is have the director of the FBI call my boss.”

  “What do you mean, the director?” Nadine had not meant to sound cross, but her words held a sharp note.

  “I mean the director of the entire FBI. The one in Washington. You must be into some high-profile shit.”

  Indeed. It appeared so.

  “When will you get here?” Nadine asked.

  “Soon as I can finish some paperwork and pack my stuff. You know if that hotel takes pets?”

  Juliette was referring to her feathered toddler, Jack-Jack, a rescue bird with a voice that could rupture eardrums. Nadine had to smile at the thought of Juliette bringing the bird along on the investigation.

  “Yes. They do, and they have a parrot in the lobby.”

  “What kind?”

  Nadine told her what she knew of Petunia.

  “They should be fine with one more small bird.”

  One small bird the size of a football, who could throw a single grape twenty feet and who always required a sheet under his perch as he was not housebroken.

  “Do you know if Demko is bringing Molly?” asked Juliette.

  “Not sure. Did you read the autopsy reports?” asked Nadine.

  “Got them as an attachment last night from the District 5 ME. Grim. Very grim. I’m anxious to see the remains.”

  “Semen recovered from one of the bodies,” Nadine said, referring to what she had gleaned from the paper copies Skogen had left her regarding physical evidence.

  “Yes. But not much else, apparently. Freshwater is hell on evidence.”

  “There’s the arrowheads.”

  “Yeah. Saw that. Entrance wounds are visible on the crime scene photos.”

  “Both bodies were found in brush near the river.”

  “Yeah. Got that. Oh, and the second body was moved postmortem. The blood pooling shows she died on her side but was recovered on her stomach.”

  Both bodies were found near the place her mother had dumped a victim. Nadine had memories of this spot, a place near the River Forest Camp.

  “Do you agree with the cause of death?” asked Nadine.

  “I can see where they could be listed as animal attack. But the arrowheads in the spines would have rendered the victims unable to move from the point below the severed spinal cord,” said Juliette. “Victim one suffered a cervical lesion. It would have rendered her paralyzed from the shoulders down. This one couldn’t move anything except her face and jaw.”

  “Would she have been breathing?”

  “No. Impossible.” Juliette paused before continuing. “The second had an injury to the lumbar area. She would have been unable to move her legs.”

  “So the alligators left the water to attack them?”

  “Unlikely. I believe they were in the water.”

  “If they were paralyzed, how did they get into the water and how did they get back out?”

  “Likely walked in, barefoot, based on the river mud under their toenails, and so already in the water when shot. Photos show duckweed and watermeal on their bodies and in their hair. They’re aquatic plants, freshwater only. You won’t find them on land. Perhaps our victims were also shot there. And they were dragged out with something. Bruising on the bodies look like the links of a chain to me.”

  “The animal activity was prior to death. Correct?”

  “Yes. But there wouldn’t have been any sensation. So no pain.”

  Juliette was trying to soften the horror of knowing these women likely were conscious and aware that a large alligator was tearing them apart, that they were being eaten alive.

  Nadine didn’t need that kind of help. She needed all that horror and the accompanying images to give her fuel to catch this killer. Two women made a series. And Nadine already saw the evolution from the first, with the neck injury, to the second with the back injury.

  Was he disappointed that he could not witness the first woman struggle? Had her inability to breathe shortened his pleasure at her death?

  “Could the first victim speak, before she died?” What she actually wondered was could she scream, beg and plead for her life? Could she feed this monster’s need to witness her desperation?

  “No. You have to control your diaphragm to speak.”

  So… no screami
ng or struggle. And a limited time before that initial victim died from lack of oxygen. How disappointing for this killer.

  Their unsub had to have dangled them like baitfish and then retrieved their ravaged bodies, to dump them on the shore.

  Why? So they’d be discovered?

  “What do you make of one being covered and the other left exposed?”

  “That’s the most confusing part. So odd.”

  “Agree.”

  “You look up the ME that is working on this investigation?” asked Juliette.

  Nadine glanced longingly back at the breakfast area. Her English muffin and untouched bacon were both getting cold. She’d yet to take a sip of her coffee and she had a meeting in twenty minutes.

  “No. Why?” she asked.

  “Dr. Pauline Kline is why. District 5’s ME. I read her textbooks when I was in medical school. Qualifications up the yin-yang and all the MEs up in the central districts have ten more years’ experience than I do. They certainly don’t need my opinion.”

  Skogen had mentioned Kline last night. She was a member of his task force.

  “Well, I need your opinion. So get your butt up here.”

  “Yes, boss lady. See you later on.”

  “Lunch?”

  “I’ll be tied up with the dead.”

  “Well, find me if you get a moment,” said Nadine.

  “Yes. I will.”

  Juliette disconnected the call. Nadine hurried back through the crowded breakfast area, added sugar to the coffee and stirred. On the way to her table, she discovered that guests were waiting before the empty chairs at her place and an attendant was wiping down the surface, readying it for the new arrivals. Her muffin and uneaten bacon had vanished.

  The breakfast attendant, a small, brown-skinned woman with dark hair, met her gaze. Her brows lifted in alarm.

  “Oh, I am sorry, ma’am. I see you go to elevator. I think you are finished.” She had a heavy Spanish accent and contrite smile. Nadine followed her gaze as it flashed to the manager who was already approaching, glowering at the woman. Meanwhile, the couple stood, holding heavy-laden plates, anxious for both of them to disappear but polite enough to wait.

  “No, no,” said Nadine. “I was finished. Thank you…”

  The young male manager stopped, glaring at his employee. Nadine turned to him.

  “Bibi, did you toss her breakfast?”

  Nadine stepped before the manager.

  “She’s doing a terrific job. The place is spotless.”

  The smaller woman took the opportunity created by her interruption to hurry toward the kitchen.

  Nadine capped her take-out coffee and retrieved her briefcase, which contained her small cross-body purse, and was out the door a few moments later, carrying a small yogurt and an apple.

  She noted that there were two unfamiliar people manning reception and wondered if she would be here long enough to learn everyone’s name.

  Nadine sat back in her desk chair in the temporary FBI office, situated in a vacant suite in a medical building in Ocala. The closest FBI field offices were in Maitland and Lakeland, so Skogen had set up a temporary office here. Tina had arrived before her and now sat in the outer office. Nadine took a video call from Juliette and the ME reported on her morning at the ME’s office and her examination of the remains of the two bodies.

  Juliette’s image shrank as she shared her screen and clicked through the photographs taken at the crime scene by local sheriffs and state crime techs.

  “I agree with the assessment that the remains of victim two are somewhere between seven and ten days old. Victim one died between three to five days ago.”

  Nadine stared at the image of the discolored remains of victim one, covered with leaf debris and sticks. The next shot showed the dump site from farther back, the body nearly invisible beneath a large live oak tree.

  Nadine had begun building her psychological autopsy of the two victims, but they were sparse as they had yet to identify either woman.

  “I need to go out there,” she said, more to herself than to Juliette.

  “Might be wise.”

  Juliette flipped to a shot of the second victim. This woman rested on her stomach; her legs splayed, the pose sexualized and unlike the other. Nadine knew this was the victim found with additional physical evidence, semen. The slight wound from the arrow at her lower back was barely visible and her form was pale, with some evidence of decay. The bruising about her waist, left by a chain, was apparent. Predation on the lower legs was obvious and disturbing.

  Beside her lay a pile of sticks and leaves. Had someone removed them after the killer had left?

  “You saw the X-rays?”

  Juliette nodded, flicking ahead to the image of the objects removed from the victims.

  “It’s arrow points. One in each spinal column. Cervical on one and lumbar on two. Here’s a thing, the point didn’t break off. It’s a whole arrowhead, intact. It almost seems like they weren’t properly fixed to the shafts.”

  That was odd. Was that intentional, the killer leaving a calling card?

  “Just the arrowhead? No shaft?”

  “High-carbon steel arrowhead. They’re called broadheads.”

  “Why did they come off?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Don’t they usually come out with the shaft?”

  “Unless they break.”

  “Was it broken?”

  “No. Intact and recovered from each victim’s spine.”

  She needed to see that point and have Demko take a look as well.

  “I’d like to see those broadheads.”

  “We have them.”

  “Progress on victim identification?” She needed that to help her build a picture of these women. They were the key to finding their unknown suspect and she did not doubt for a moment that if they did not soon figure out who, where and why he was targeting them, their killer would kill again.

  “No.” Juliette flicked forward to the image of both women, now on tarps beside waiting body bags. “But I understand the FBI is speaking to families of all recent missing persons. If these women are from the area, we should know fairly soon.”

  “And nothing, no personal items found anywhere in the vicinity?” She knew this but had to ask again. It still seemed unlikely and infuriating.

  Her mother had taken all clothing from her victims to remove physical evidence. Was this perp doing likewise?

  “No jewelry, clothing or objects of any kind.”

  Many killers saved the jewelry from their victims. Keepsakes.

  Nadine stared at the image of the two dead women, allowing the anger to percolate within her.

  If this were a series, then their killer might already have captured his next victim. They had to figure this out. There was no time to waste.

  She glanced at a report. “And there was nothing in their stomachs. How long were they held?”

  “Unknown. Best guess is two to four days. It’s hard to differentiate what chemical processes began before or after death. But the second victim was definitely in ketosis. Possibly the first also, but we’re unable to determine this was not due to the natural processes of decay. However, I agree with the ME’s assessment that the second victim, at least, and possibly the first, were both starving at the time of death.”

  Was that to weaken them or instituted just for the pleasure of watching them suffer?

  Juliette flicked to a close-up of the denuded bone on the lower leg of one of the victims. “Massive tissue loss for victim one both before and after death. Water in lungs indicates she drowned.”

  Couldn’t breathe. But could swallow water. Nadine felt a chill at the image she conjured.

  “And victim two?”

  “Victim two died of exsanguination.”

  “Bled out,” said Nadine. “Do you agree with the ME?”

  “Predatory activity. Likely an alligator. Big one. Nothing else can remove flesh like that. Bruising around the wound on
victim two shows she had circulation.”

  “I’ve seen some gruesome deaths,” said Juliette. “From boat propellers, heavy machinery, automobiles. But these two top the list. Simply horrifying.”

  The silence stretched as Nadine tried and failed to eradicate the image of an alligator feeding on the living women.

  “Have a look at these.” She flipped to a photo of an arm and shoulder. “Both victims also shared similar puncture marks on the extremities, not caused by an animal, and these were also inflicted before death.”

  “What about these smaller wounds?” Nadine asked, referring to the red crisscrossing marks that reminded her of the sort that might be caused by a switch.

  “We think that’s from the serrated edges of palmetto fronds. They’re pervasive. Seems they were moving through them without the protection of clothing.”

  Nadine took a moment to internalize that before moving back to the puncture marks and dark gaping wounds. “Do you know what weapon was used?”

  “Pretty sure this was also arrows.”

  Nadine’s brows lifted.

  “It looks to us as if our first victim was hung up on some kind of a backboard or large tree and someone shot arrows at her. Multiple punctures in the extremities. The wounds are consistent with a body that was left to hang; the weight of the torso further tore the wounds. Easy to confuse with knife wounds but a knife wound often leaves bruising on the skin and you see there is none. Also knife wounds frequently show directionality, and again, there is none. The wounds are uniform and, more importantly, they are narrow and deep, so deep that with a knife you would expect to see a hilt mark. Additionally, these wounds were consistent in size all the way through the tissue except for the ones where there was tearing after initial penetration. They were slightly larger there. The ME is going to get ahold of some arrows and see if they can make a match.”