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

down to watch the FBI’s four-thirty press briefing. He’d had to bail on the afternoon workload to see this. His boss was not happy. Not that he cared. She was lucky to have him, didn’t deserve him and certainly did not pay him enough for his qualifications.

He could have turned on the set in the office and watched there. But he wanted privacy. He knew he would rewatch it many times, focusing on every detail of Nadine’s face. He’d taken notice of what she wore and how she tried to hide her feminine willowy beauty beneath the façade of professional attire. She had a natural appeal with a rosy complexion and tempting features. Symmetrical. And they had so much in common. He could hardly wait to have the conversations with her that he had had in his mind. Soon, he promised himself.

He was proud that his work had now gained national attention. The broadcaster introduced the clip from the FBI press briefing.

He pounded his fist on the arm of the chair in anticipation. The players were already in position. FBI lead investigator, Jack Skogen, stood at the podium looking calm and in control, which he was not. She stood behind and to his left.

Nadine Finch wore her hair up in a bun. She looked pale except for the lipstick. He leaned in. The color was a soft pink, the near-identical match to the satin blouse she wore beneath the navy blazer.

Skogen spoke about the newest victim, Jo Summerville. He smiled at the memory of securing her dying body to a sturdy oak at the foot of Nadine’s father’s grave.

He had been there. At the dig, dressed as a forest ranger, and spoken to several of the patrolmen. From one of the anthropologists, who needed frequent smoke breaks, he learned what was happening but had not ventured to the dig site until after they had finished.

He had had his prey trapped in that small cage so long that her lower half had begun to shut down, shunting blood to her core so that her feet and ankles turned purple and her toes turned black. When the maggots appeared on her feet, he knew he had to act quickly. He’d moved her to her display area before dawn. She had been mainly deadweight at that point. Unable to struggle, semiconscious. The arrows had roused her and he had enjoyed watching her squirm along with the maggots. They were both the same. Inferior species.

It was a shame he couldn’t stay to watch. He’d left after a long backward glance, fixing the image in his mind.

Moving his attention back to the screen, he watched Skogen clear his throat before speaking.

“We have recovered the remains of Jo Summerville. The Huntsman failed to honor his agreement to release her alive because he is without honor.”

“She was alive when I left her,” he muttered.

“He is a despicable, heinous murderer of innocent women and a liar without integrity.”

“I’m not a liar. I did as I promised. It’s your fault she died.”

Skogen introduced Nadine.

And then he noticed something else. His eyes narrowed as he moved to the edge of the chair, leaning so far forward that he nearly toppled onto the carpet.

Was she gazing at Skogen?

She was! She wasn’t just staring at him—she was fawning. Batting her eyes as she cast him an adoring smile.

His insides clenched and he set his teeth together as he watched them.

“I’d like our lead forensic psychologist to give the public a few characteristics that might help us catch this killer.” Then the FBI agent turned toward Nadine and extended his hand.

She slipped her palm against his and held his gaze as he made a disgusting show of escorting her to the podium. There he retained her hand a little too long before finally releasing her and stepping back. Nadine cast Skogen a seductive smile before turning to the camera.

He shot to his feet.

“No!” he bellowed. “No! She’s not interested in him. She’s mine. She knows she’s mine.”

He gripped the remote, glaring at the rival male who stood just behind Nadine. Maybe it was his imagination. He rewound the live broadcast and watched again. This time when Skogen dared touch Nadine, he bellowed, the sound shaking the room.

Rage built and then pounded through his bloodstream, drenching him in sweat. He lowered his chin, targeting this challenger. He would not lose her to that inferior male.

Nadine spoke into the microphones.

“His condition is called compensatory narcissism. This disorder leads him to strike at others before they have a chance to strike at him. He can do this because he believes that societal rules do not apply to him.”

Nadine was now looking at the camera.

“In other words, a coward attacking solitary women, while believing these attacks should foster in us a sense of admiration at his cleverness.”

His jaw gaped and his skin prickled. How could she not understand?

“He has no capacity for empathy or for love. But thinks himself deserving of both. No. Not deserving—entitled, when he is, in fact, a cold, calculating, arrogant, remorseless killer.”

Rage bubbled through him. He lowered his chin. “I suppose that makes me like looking in a mirror,” he said to the screen. “We’re the same. I know it. You know it.”

Nadine finished. Skogen placed an arm around her shoulders as he switched positions with her. As Nadine turned, Skogen rested his hand momentarily at the nape of her neck.

He switched off the television and hurled the remote. It collided with the wall, expelling its batteries.

He’d watch it again later when he got himself back under control. Right now, while the lead investigator and two of his agents were conducting a press conference, he would continue clearing the area of troublesome females. He had an itch to hurt someone and had already targeted his next victim. Her shift started in just a few minutes and she was a woman of habits. He grabbed his keys, determined to make this one suffer for everything he’d suffered today.

“Damn her. He’s not the superior male.