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

She thought the best welcome he could give her was time to take a hot shower and get a full night’s sleep.

“Here you go. The key will only open the elevator at your floor and provides you access to the common areas, like the pool and exercise room. Elevators are to the right. Tiki bar on the pool deck opens at four. We serve warm cookies at reception from three to five. Breakfast is between six and nine every morning and there is coffee until midnight right in the dining area.” Rosie motioned to the empty seating area, now dark. “Do you need maps? I have some coupons for Silver Springs and information on the National Forest.”

“I don’t need maps, thanks.”

Rosie glanced toward the empty bell stand and frowned.

“I got it,” said Nadine, reading Rosie as she referred to handling her own luggage.

“Well, I’m here until midnight, if you need anything. Your room is 242, second floor and a left just off the elevators.” She slipped the key card into a paper envelope and slid it forward. “Have a nice evening.”

She wouldn’t, but she nodded, forcing a smile.

“Hello,” said Petunia, with perfect enunciation.

“Good-bye,” corrected Rosie.

Up in her room, Nadine took in the space. This was a business hotel, which meant she had a kitchenette consisting of a tiny sink, microwave, coffee station and minifridge. She passed a small love seat facing a desk, continuing beyond the partition, collapsing on the bed. Her eyes drifted shut for an instant before the text chimes startled her.

The first text was from Clint and was one word.

Arrived?

The second was from Skogen.

Reception says you arrived. Please meet me in the lobby.

He’d barely given her the chance to settle in or text him herself.

She groaned and texted Demko.

Arrived. Meeting now with Skogen.

Nadine stared at her reflection, her expression determined, her chin lowered.

“All right, Agent Skogen. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

When the elevator doors opened at ground level, Nadine found a well-dressed man in a tan suit and gray satin tie standing in a posture of practiced stillness. He cocked his head to one side at her appearance and lifted a brow.

“Dr. Finch?”

This could only be lead investigator Special Agent Jack Skogen, acting as if he didn’t instantly recognize her. Her photo was in the FBI database and had been in every national newspaper. His pretense that he needed to verify her identity irritated.

She gave him a once-over as she nodded acknowledgement of her identity. His physicality screamed former military, with a muscular build and above average height. His light brown hair receded slightly off a broad forehead. His brows peaked in a near-perfect triangle over intent blue eyes. He had a narrow nose, strong jaw, thin lips, and ears that protruded a little more than they should to be classically handsome—although, all in all, he was a good-looking man, and clean-shaven despite the hour.

She stepped forward, making good eye contact and holding her smile but withholding her hand, keeping it fixed to the strap of her briefcase.

“You must be Special Agent Skogen.”

“Guilty,” he said. “Please call me Jack.”

He motioned her forward out of the alcove and into the lobby, where he took a seat that commanded the best view of both the front and back entrance. She chose a chair facing reception and Rosie, who gave her a bright smile and wave.

Petunia sat upon a wooden perch, on an elaborate play stand fixed to the cage top, her foot raised as she shredded a paper towel tube.

“It must be strange for you to be back up here,” said Skogen.

Of course he would have read everything he could on her background before offering her a job as consultant. This would include Nadine’s connection with her mother’s arrest and her recent involvement in the apprehension of the Copycat Killer.

“Yes. I passed the development where I grew up on my way in here.” Although she knew the old trailers where her family had lived long ago had been removed, to prevent curiosity seekers. One of the property owners had taken the additional step of changing the trailer park’s name.

Jack kept his voice low, Nadine hoped with the intention of preventing the receptionist from gleaning any details of their conversation rather than to lend intimacy to their meeting.

“You were recommended to me for this assignment by Agent Torrin.”

“So you mentioned on the phone.”

“He said you were so good he thought you were a suspect.”

She frowned at this revelation.

“He felt that you’d bring more to the investigation than a professional profile. It was his opinion that you have a sort of intuition.”

“I don’t rely on intuition. My work is clinical. Data points and logic over hunches.”

“And that work impressed him, along with your innate ability to glean more from the facts and details of the case than would be apparent to an investigator.”

“I should hope so or I’m going to have to ask for my money back on my education.” He was trying to say that he believed her personal experience and being raised by a notorious killer gave her some sort of edge. But he was dancing around the point, and she was not going to help him because Nadine did not wish to be selected for this assignment due to her notoriety. If he had done so, he was bound to be disappointed.

Still, she was relieved that he had agreed to keep her association with this case out of the press, because she did not relish becoming the center of a media storm again. Been there, done that—twice. She believed the attention needed to remain squarely focused on finding this killer.

Despite the inevitable wobbles in her confidence that came and went, she was good at her job. Profiling required education, knowledge, experience, and identification with killers. She had all that, unfortunately.

Skogen reached in his bag and withdrew a folder, pressed it to the table and pushed it in her direction. She noted he wore a class ring on his right hand,