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

He glanced at her.

“Remind me what your mother told you?”

“Something about a guy who owed her money. Wouldn’t pay up and they argued. She hit him with a shovel. She claims it was an accident, but who swings a shovel at someone’s head not expecting to kill them?”

“Just said, ‘a guy’?”

“Yeah. I told you I had suspicions about the possibility of this being our missing father. She said he abandoned us. Ran off with someone. She was lying. She’s always lying. I should have known that, even then.”

She tried and failed to control her ragged breathing as she faced the truth. Her father was really gone.

“Let me check in with Juliette and tell her we’re leaving.”

While she waited, one of the anthropologists approached, placing a green vinyl sandal on the tarp beside the smaller skeleton. The footwear looked nearly new except for the dirt and sand clinging to the crevices.

Nadine stared at the object, puzzled at its pristine condition.

“Man-made materials,” he said, pointing. “Vinyl doesn’t break down with bacteria or rain. The elements never touched it. Take years for it to rot.”

“Hmm,” said Nadine.

“You’re Dr. Finch,” he said.

She nodded.

“I understand you might be a relation,” he said. “I’m sorry for your loss. I hope this might bring you some closure.”

She frowned. As if that were even possible.

He shoved his dirty hands in his pockets and rocked forward and back. Nadine cast him a questioning look.

“Yes. Right. Well, the thing is I’ve been sent over to ask if you would be willing to provide a—”

“Don’t tell me. A DNA sample?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Nadine pressed a hand to her forehead and said, “Why not?”

He drew on a latex glove, offered a swab and she brushed it inside her gum before handing it back.

When Nadine’s phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. A glance told her that it was Skogen. They must have added a cell phone tower somewhere close by because service here used to be hit and miss.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Listen, we now have new data from the three known victims’ phones. We now have a complete list of common apps. I’m sending it to you. We flagged all the ones that had notifications switched on.”

“I need to see the text messages and direct messages.”

“Yes. I should have it on the file share soon.”

“Anything else?”

“No. You?”

“Have you figured out yet how my involvement was leaked to the press?” She suspected that the reporter, who had followed them into the woods, might have figured out who they were.

“Not yet. Believe me, I’m giving it my full attention. I’m going to find whoever did this.”

“And do what?”

He paused. Was he shocked that she wanted to know exactly what he planned to do to the person on his team who leaked her identity to the press? He shouldn’t be. In many ways she was, after all, her mother’s daughter.

“I said I’d handle it.”

The sound she made in the back of her throat revealed dissatisfaction with that answer.

“I’m sending you the data I mentioned. Let us know if you have any questions.”

“Yup. I’ve got to go. Phone battery,” she said, keeping the lie short before signaling to Demko that she was ready, and walking away on the single-file trail.

They had missed lunch and she’d sweated so much that her head pounded, and her leg muscles trembled. Around them, the shadows loomed, and lizards scurried, hopping out of their way.

Her relief at reaching the road was short-lived as the late-afternoon sun had lost none of its potency. Leaving the leafy canopy, she found the air ten degrees warmer and the glare of sun on the sand made her squint.

Her phone bleeped an alert. She glanced down, seeing the text from Skogen. He’d sent her a link to the data.

“I need something to drink and a Wi-Fi connection.”

Demko found both at a grill on the St. Johns. They sat at a table by the window overlooking the moorings for the houseboats. From the ceiling hung pendant lights and colorful Styrofoam floats from crab traps. There was plenty of beer on tap and specialty drinks, including a tempting Bacardi rum bucket, bright blue, with plenty of crushed ice, served in a plastic sand pail, but she ordered water.

Weekend or not, she was on the job.

They had landed at the grill squarely between lunch and dinner and only a few patrons still lingered over their meals.

They ordered as Nadine itched to reach for her laptop.

Instead she took a moment to look out at the gently flowing wide river.

Lunch arrived. The aroma of fried clams and hush puppies made her mouth water. After lunch she booted up her laptop as Demko sipped his iced tea and scribbled notes on his pad.

She studied the inventory of purchased apps shared by all three victims. It was a long list that included games, banking, entertainment and weather programs. They all shared several apps for airlines, hotels and social media. She glanced at the navigation apps, knowing some of the women had used these to plot the route to their own deaths. The list included data from Rita Karnowski’s boyfriend’s phone and vehicle. Nadine noted that Betters used his onboard vehicle navigation system to find that trail’s parking area. But what had drawn them to these locations?

She skimmed down the list, focusing on the apps set to deliver notifications. Several she didn’t recognize.

Nadine paused as two drew her notice. One was a sky guide used to identify stars, set to send alerts and shared by all three women, but it was unlikely that they would have used this during the day.

The second one was for bird-watching. It grabbed her attention for three reasons: it was shared by Darnell, Karnowski and Tolan, notifications for each was switched on—and she and Juliette both also had this application. Was this the reason these women ventured off into remote locations?

Bird-watching?

Linda Tolan was photographing birds for a magazine.

She needed to find out if any of the victims had received notifications from this or any other app the day of