The Hunted Girls by Jenna Kernan (best book club books for discussion txt) 📕

the trail and was approaching the pair outside the line of sight of the seated man. Demko spotted her and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head; then he waved her off. She stood frozen for just a moment and then realized he was telling her to return down the trail alone. She gave her head a definitive shake. She was not going anywhere in this forest by herself.

His lips pursed and he glared at her before returning his attention to the seated man, who was now looking over his shoulder at her.

“Who’s your partner?” asked the reporter.

Demko said nothing as Nadine moved off the trail and again out of sight.

If he figured out who she was, her anonymity was blown. The media would set up their tarpaulins and the three-ring circus would commence. Nadine hated the spotlight. It made her sick to her stomach and reminded her of all of the terrible parts of her life. It took her right back to the courthouse in the three days she testified against her mother.

She wiped the sweat from her lip.

Nadine wanted many things in her life. Notoriety she had already, and hated it. She did not want to be some celebrity profiler with her own talk show. She wanted to be left alone with the luxury of an ordinary life.

She saw the chances of that fading with the day’s sunlight.

“If you’re arresting me, you have to give me your name,” said the reporter.

She turned back just in time to see Demko looming over him. She hoped he wasn’t going to do anything that would get him fired. She opened her mouth to warn him, then realized she was about to say his name and closed it again.

“Let me get out my phone so I can record this conversation.”

Demko was staring at her now. He motioned her back toward the trailhead and this time she went.

“Pull up the clock app.” That was Demko’s voice, a command, followed by a pause. “Start the timer.” Another pause. “You leave this spot before ten minutes and I will arrest you. Understand?”

“On what charge?”

“Trespass and obstructing a police officer. You crossed under the crime tape, buddy.”

This was met with silence.

“Ten minutes,” said Demko.

A moment later, Demko emerged onto the trail carrying both the man’s wallet and his camera. He captured her elbow, bustling her along.

From behind them came the shout from the trespasser.

“You can’t take those!”

She glanced back over her shoulder to see the man standing in the underbrush clutching his phone.

“He’s right,” she said, referring to the reporter’s equipment.

Demko paused to check the camera and removed the flash card.

“Hey! That’s my property. I’m reporting this!”

“I’d expect nothing less from a reporter,” Demko mumbled as he set the camera on the trail. He removed the press badge from the man’s wallet. Then he dropped the wallet beside the camera and turned to Nadine.

“This is bad,” she said.

“I’ll say. Thought we might have found him. Instead we get punked by some reporter.” He glanced at the identification. “Timothy Murphy. Orlando Star.”

“It’s happening again.” She hoped the dizziness was from the heat, but that didn’t explain the sharp pangs in her stomach or the dread collecting within her heart.

Nadine had gained nothing to help find Linda Tolan from their outing, and despite the FBI and search and rescue’s efforts, Tolan remained missing and Nadine feared she was dead.

Downhearted, she sat in the SUV as Demko drove, checking her messages, hoping for a miracle.

She found an email from Arlo asking her to call him today between eleven and twelve, when he would be waiting by the prison’s communal phone banks. She glanced at the time, realizing it was already a few minutes after noon, but she placed the call.

The phone rang once and then was answered by an unfamiliar male. She asked for her brother and then waited as the inmate answering, from the phone bank in the prison, handed the receiver to him.

“Hey, Arlo. What’s up?”

“I was afraid you didn’t get my email,” Arlo said.

“Just read it. Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay. Thanks for the red-tag information.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

“My attorney called that FBI guy you worked with.”

“Torrin?”

“Yeah. He was pretty hyped about it, I guess. Said that this might close a cold case. May just get me out of here.”

It was what she had hoped and feared. Arlo on the outside. The unknown future. But she forced herself to tell him that his news was wonderful. Because she could think of little worse than knowing your sister did not have your back.

“Is that why you wanted me to call?” It didn’t seem like reason enough. A thank you could wait for her regular visit.

There was no answer.

“Arlo?”

“The Copycat Killer managed to get a message to me.”

“How?”

“Mailed from the Sarasota jail, I think.”

Nadine’s skin itched.

“Wants us to write to each other and asked about you, wanted your new address.”

“Did you write back?” she asked.

“You think I would? That asshole shot you.”

She smiled at that. After all these years, Arlo still came to her rescue.

“I just wanted you aware that this maniac is still… consumed by you. Thinking about you. Be careful.”

Her stomach twisted, but she managed to hold her tight smile.

“Always.”

“See you soon?”

“Count on it.”

They said their good-byes and she tucked away her phone.

At the hotel she learned that Skogen had a place rented for her team. Somewhere the killer didn’t know about. Tina told her that they could move in immediately.

They checked out together, moving to a turnkey town house in a gated community. Skogen’s team escorted them to ensure they were not followed.

It did not take Tina or Juliette long to recognize the tension vibrating between her and Demko.

Juliette pulled her aside as they were retrieving their luggage from their vehicles.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“It’s nothing. We just had a tiny disagreement.”

Juliette gave her a skeptical look. “Doesn’t seem tiny.”

Nadine lowered her largest suitcase to the ground and extended the handle. Then she grabbed the carry-on. It thumped to the pavement. She really needed to get