The Hunted Girls Page 8

  Nadine veered toward the breakfast area, finding a new worker there setting out oranges, this one a white man about her height. She did not see the small woman who had been working yesterday, and wondered if the attendant had gotten into trouble for throwing away her breakfast. She headed toward the man to ask, but he veered through the swinging door to the kitchen at her approach.

  Nadine grabbed a bowl of oatmeal, added milk and dried fruit, and collected a small plate of eggs.

  In the dining area, she spotted Demko, who sat reading the paper and simultaneously munching on a bagel slathered with cream cheese and topped with walnuts.

  She slipped in beside him and he pushed a cup of coffee in her direction. Then he leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips that made her drop her spoon.

  “Good morning,” he whispered and then drew back.

  “I missed your text.”

  “It was late.” He finished the bagel in three bites, showing strong white teeth. The sight did funny things to her breathing.

  “I had a migraine.”

  “Again?” His expression now reflected concern.

  “Yeah, stress reaction. I took my meds and they finally knocked me out.”

  She sipped the coffee, completely aware that they had not been alone together since she’d returned from DC. Though he was seated beside her, she missed him physically in a way that had her aching and distracted.

  “You get any sleep?”

  “Couple hours,” he said.

  “Oh, darn it!” She glanced toward the lobby. “I forgot that damn packet from Skogen upstairs.”

  “You saw him?”

  She shook her head. “Left us policy manuals at the front desk.”

  He waved a hand. “Keep it.”

  She drained her coffee and glanced about, searching again for the little breakfast lady, Bibi, but could not find her. “What happened with the trail cam?”

  “Sheriff and I waited for the FBI to get there. We left it on the tree, exactly as you found it.”

  “Skogen make the pickup?” she asked.

  “One of his people. Don’t get your hopes up. It’s a dud. The SIM card is missing.”

  Her shoulders sagged. There would be no image of a killer dumping a victim.

  “Maybe we’ll pull some prints,” he said, offering some hope. “Anyway, that’s how I learned they’d notified Betters.”

  Hugo Betters was Rita Karnowski’s boyfriend, the man they’d failed to reach last night.

  “What? He’s been notified?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her frustrated exhalation fanned her coffee. She’d missed seeing Betters’s initial reaction.

  She growled out the words. “They didn’t contact me.”

  “Might want to talk to Skogen about that,” said Demko.

  “Oh, I will.” She drew out her phone and sent a text to Skogen.

  “So tell me what you heard,” she said, setting aside the device and turning to her eggs.

  “Special Agent Coleman told me that she notified Karnowski’s parents yesterday afternoon and caught her partner at his residence.”

  “When?”

  “After we left. He’d gone from work to a pub for dinner.”

  She stirred her oatmeal, then tucked in. “So, you know where to find him today?”

  He nodded. “Got the job site from Coleman. That could be our first stop.”

  “Sounds good.” She finished the oatmeal and dropped the spoon in the bowl. “Thank you for coming with me. It means a lot to have you here.”

  He smiled. “You can thank me if I ever manage to get you alone.”

  Her head sank. “I’m sorry we missed each other last night.”

  “Me too.”

  Her phone chimed and she read the message.

  “Skogen didn’t think it necessary for me to be there. But wants me in on the formal interview.”

  “What do you think about that?”

  “I’ll tell him what I think in person.”

  His brows lifted and he gave a slow nod.

  She set aside the phone. “So, first the job site of Karnowski’s partner, then the meeting with the parents of Nikki Darnell?”

  “Without any of Skogen’s team?”

  “Seems only fair.”

  Nadine read from the missing person’s report as Demko drove. “‘Rita Karnowski’s partner, Hugo Betters, reported her missing on Saturday, March 20th, calling the rangers three hours after getting separated from her on a short hike.’” She lowered the report. “That’s a long time.”

  “Wonder what he did for three hours?”

  She made a sound in her throat and turned back to the report.

  “Says he went back to his truck to grab their lunch.” She scanned ahead and then read. “‘Search and rescue teams struck out in the forest. Called it after thirty-six hours. Bodies were discovered Friday, March 26th, by a member of the parks’ maintenance crew.’” She closed her laptop.

  “Skogen didn’t clear Betters,” said Demko.

  “But he’s not in custody.”

  “I’d be checking his timeline. No arrest until I had solid evidence.”

  “Well, I look forward to our chat,” said Nadine. “I’m particularly interested in why it took him three hours to call for help.”

  “Ditto. You buy his story that he left Rita on a hiking trail to go retrieve their lunch?”

  “Doesn’t quite fit, does it? And he reported that, when he returned, she had vanished. Why not pack the lunch in the first place? Or go back for the lunch together?”

  “Why were they on a trail?” he asked.

  She found that detail on the statement. “He reported that Rita wanted to take a nature walk after their kayak trip. Her remains were recovered miles from where she had been reported missing.”

  “They get a sample from him?” asked Demko.

  “Yes. Voluntary. Comparing it to the semen found on Rita. Juliette expects results in another day or two.”

  “I could get used to that turnover.”

  “They also requested a sample from the man who found her.”

  “The maintenance guy? That’s a good call.”

  “But he declined the request.”

  That got Demko’s attention. “We should talk to him, too.”

  “Skogen has an interview scheduled for tomorrow.”

  “Get him a bottle of water. He leaves without it and you got your sample.”

  “I’ll mention it to Skogen.”

  “Man won’t give a sample, he’s got a reason.”

  Hugo Betters was an electrician. They found him on the same job he had been subcontracting on before his girlfriend’s disappearance. The site was easy to find just by following the sound of hammering. The framing of a new housing development was up on several concrete slabs. Other units already had plywood walls and roofing under way.

  One of the contractors directed them. After introductions, Hugo agreed to speak to them. They moved through the empty house, currently just a shell and studs, to what would be the kitchen—it was farthest from the roofers and their hydraulic staple guns.

  Despite the distance, the pounding was incessant.

  Betters took one look at Demko and asked, “You cops?”

  Nadine held her smile. “Yes. We are. This is Detective Demko and I’m FBI Special Agent Finch.”

  Inside, she started, realizing this was the very first time she had used her new title.

  Betters gave her a once-over and said, “FBI told me about Rita yesterday.”

  “We’re here to follow up on a few details.”

  She started with the easy questions and Betters seemed to relax. Only when she began asking for specifics did his outward cool begin to crack.

  “Why did it take so long to get to your vehicle?”

  “It was over a mile back.”

  “And you deemed it safe to leave Rita alone in the forest for the time it took to make that round trip?”

  “She asked me to
go.” His face was red.

  “And you complied?”

  “Listen, what do you want me to say?”

  Demko took that one. “We want you to explain why you didn’t bring the lunch to begin with.”

  “Because we weren’t going to eat there. We were supposed to eat at a park with picnic tables on the way home. But she insisted on this stupid trail. She’s always doing that. Changing the plan, insisting on getting her…”

  “Her… what?” asked Nadine.

  “She can be childish.”

  “And it took you three hours to realize she was missing?”

  “No.”

  “A one-mile hike round trip, to the car and back, should take…” Nadine turned to Demko.

  “Thirty minutes. Forty tops.”

  “Let’s say thirty minutes. Even if you searched for an hour, which would be doubtful,” said Nadine, “what did you do with the other half hour?”

  “I walked the entire trail. Listen, I told that other agent this.”

  “Where did you really go?” asked Nadine.

  Betters clamped his mouth shut.

  “You two argued. Rita was uncooperative. You left. Is that right?” Demko asked.

  “No. I left to get lunch.”

  “I see. Wait here and don’t leave until we give you the all-clear,” said Demko and motioned to Nadine.

  She followed him outside the construction site and stopped. “You are not seriously going to leave him in there. His story stinks.”

  “Got holes in it,” he agreed.

  “Then why did you leave him?”

  “Give him a chance to do the right thing. Or not.”

  Demko motioned for her to follow him to the side of the house.

  “You think he’ll run?”

  “Or make a phone call, try and get someone to back up his alibi. What he won’t do is wait.”

  “You think he did this to Rita?”

  “I think he’s lied to you about his whereabouts. That’s enough for now. Call Skogen. Tell him to pick him up.”

  She did and explained the exchange while Demko watched the house.

  “Why didn’t you call? I could have sent one of my agents,” said Skogen.

  She ignored the question, having learned long ago that just because someone asks does not mean you have to answer.

  “Would you like us to wait until one of the team comes to get him?”

  “Yes.”

  Predictably, Betters rounded the outside of the structure and headed for his vehicle. Spotting them, he began to run.

  Demko shot away from her like a hound after a hare, ordering Betters to halt—which he did not until he reached the door to his truck and saw Demko aiming his service pistol at him. Then he complied and Demko neatly handcuffed him.

  He allowed Betters to sit up while they waited for the FBI.

  “I was just getting a wire stripper,” said Betters.

  “Yeah, sure,” said Demko.

  An hour later, Hugo Betters was in custody and the forensics team was processing his truck. Meanwhile, she had rescheduled the meeting with the Millers so that she could sit in on an interview at the county sheriff’s headquarters with Betters, who was amending his initial story.

  For the interview, Demko waited outside, watching through the observation window. Inside, she sat in the corner, letting Skogen and one of his team handle the questioning.

  “Tell us about the morning of the disappearance.”

  “What, again?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Betters made a sound of frustration before launching into the events. “We’d spent the morning in the kayak. Her idea. A tandem, also her idea, so I could paddle, and she could watch for wildlife. It’s hard work, paddling that thing, especially against the current. On our way out she insisted on a hike. Guess who carried the gear? Me, again. All she had was her water and binoculars. I had everything else. I told her I wanted to be home for the game. She said we’d only be out in the morning, but she kept adding things.”

  “What game?” asked Skogen.

  “Tampa Bay Lightning were playing at home. My buddy has a seventy-five-inch television. Puck dropped at one p.m. But off we went on a hike.”

  Nadine interrupted. “You left her there.”

  The agents turned, their expressions echoing surprise. She kept her attention on Betters, his face now flushed and his eyes flashing as his frustration morphed to fury.

  “She wouldn’t come with me!”

  The room went quiet. The agents turned back to Betters.

  “You left her in the woods?” asked Skogen.

  “She refused to leave with me. She knew I had to go or miss the first period, so I…”

  “When did you change your mind and go back?” asked Skogen.

  “When I got to I-4, I started to worry. She had her phone, but I had the wheels. I sent a text, which she ignored. I called and it went straight to voicemail.”

  This was the sort of detail they could verify once they had Skogen’s team finish a digital forensics report.

  “So when she wasn’t at the trailhead, I checked the trail. I just knew she’d gotten a ride, but she wouldn’t answer her phone. She does that. Sends me to voicemail when she’s mad.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I went to her place. I called her sister. I called her friend. I even called her ex-boyfriend. Nothing.” He rubbed his neck. “I still thought she was messing with me. That she’d achieved her aim, making me worry. Miss the game.”

  “But you called the rangers anyway.”

  “First I went back to the trailhead. Then, yes. I called.”

  And this, at last, Nadine believed. Rita might have been manipulative, but his feelings seemed genuine. And his explanation fit the timeline. Of course, they’d check it.

  Betters pressed a hand to his forehead. “She was so stubborn.” His hand fell to his side.

  Nadine stood and let herself out.

  Demko met her in the hall.

  “He our guy?” he asked.

  “Not sure. If it was just Rita, I’d be more inclined to think he was involved. But Nikki was first. And Betters has a solid alibi for that Saturday.”

  “Watching hockey,” said Demko.

  “In Tampa all weekend with his buddies. Besides, serials either begin with their intended victim, end with them, or never kill them at all and end up displacing their rage on similar victims. Killing his girlfriend second in a series makes no sense.”

  “People have staged murders to look like robberies, house fires, auto accidents. Maybe he killed her by accident and wants it to look like a serial killer.”

  “It’s more likely that Darnell did that,” said Nadine. “And Rita wasn’t rich or planning to leave Betters for someone else, and she wasn’t pregnant. So just break up with her and move on.”

  “Could have killed her in a rage and then tried to cover his tracks.”

  “No way—the cause of death is too similar to Nikki’s. It was the same guy. Plus, how would he have known where Nikki had been left?”

  Demko shrugged. “Saw her on a hike?”

  “That was miles from where she went missing.”

  “Reportedly. We need to check the GPS on his truck and phone. See if he was where he said he was.”

  “True. But he doesn’t like to hike. That’s Rita’s thing. He likes a recliner and a beer.”

  “Then what about Nikki’s husband? She’s rich.”

  “Roger Darnell? Why would he kill Rita?”

  “Killed Nikki for the money. Killed Rita to throw authorities off track.”

  “And sent them into the river alive and bleeding to lure alligators, then pulled them back out? You think her husband did that?”

  “He wouldn’t be the first to kill other people to make his wife’s murder seem to be the work of a madman. And he’d know where he’d dumped Nikki and could have put Rita nearby. Plus he stands to gain financially by her death.”

  “Not
if her dad has any say. Still, she did have a trust fund and insurance policy. So there’s motive.”

  “But he seems to have been right where he said on the day of his wife’s disappearance.”

  “Well, his phone was anyway. No witnesses, receipts or anything tangible.”

  “Just leave the phone home?”

  “Possibly. Or…” She shook her head. “Nope.”

  He waited.

  “It’s not Darnell or Betters,” she said. “Have you seen anywhere near here that sells arrows?”

  Seven

  She and Demko had left the Betters interview and driven to Orlando to meet with Clem and Caroline Miller. The exchange had yielded nothing useful beyond the parents’ fury that, despite their cutting their daughter off, Nikki had married Roger a year ago.

  There was only one disturbing detail, possibly a coincidence. Nikki had gone missing the day after their first wedding anniversary.

  Nadine had now met Nikki’s parents and both victims’ partners. Neither partner seemed a viable suspect for crimes with this level of depravity.

  Special Agent Skogen’s team would be carefully checking their timelines and alibis. She could do nothing further on that account.

  Now she needed to get out and get a feel for the area and see it as this hunter might. He had driven these roads, possibly stopped for gas or supplies.

  She let Demko drive. He was taking her to a hunting supply place he’d spotted, but she’d asked him to stop anywhere he felt deserved a look. It turned out that was a lot.

  In the course of the next three hours, they visited an insurance agent, a florist, an antique dealer and Curly Cutters hair salon. Demko talked, showed the photos of the victims and Nadine held Molly’s leash and stood back to watch the behavior of the folks he spoke with. None had any information that Nadine found useful and she’d seen no obvious signs of stress or deception.

  Nadine loaded Molly back in the rear seat and climbed into the front.

  “Where next? The hunting place?”

  “A vet’s first. Then the gun shop and then an adventure outfitter.”

  He reversed out of the lot and turned them back toward Ocala National Forest.

  They pulled into the veterinary office and she elected to wait in the car checking her in-box and replying to emails and texts from Tina.