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

He drove to his camp, deep in the forest, and gathered his supplies. His bow and arrows, skinning knife and the spike strip. He’d use this device on the highway to puncture her tires. When she stopped, he’d take her.

He caught the flutter of white at his periphery and paused to admire the ghost orchid that he’d collected by skinning the bark from the tree where it had clung. This prized plant was so rare that most people would never see one. Just as they would never see the giant sphinx moth responsible for pollinating them. The flower’s feathery petals sparkled white, pristine and perfect. He thought the name frog orchid less poetic but a good one, as the long labellum resembled the legs of a frog. The plant had tolerated the move, thriving for months already because he recognized what it needed to flourish, just as he understood what all creatures needed to survive.

Or to perish.

He headed out, to lay the trap. He knew her vehicle. It was a simple matter to lay the strip. If he spotted a different car, he’d drag it off with monofilament fishing line. This stretch of road, between her work in Silver Springs and her trailer, was remote and little traveled, especially at this hour when most folks had already made it home for supper. But hers was the night shift.

Rosie reported to work at 8 p.m. She was never late, and her car passed this stretch between 7:31 p.m. and 7:39 p.m.

The woman was slim and athletic. He imagined seeing her naked, staked to the ground before him, and his mouth watered. That tingle and zing of excitement zipped through him.

He’d take Rosie and then he’d move to Nadine’s pretty, doe-eyed assistant, Tina Ruz. Oh, the sounds she’d make when he released his first arrow into her pink flesh.

The ATV started up with a twist of the key and he roared toward the road, anxious to catch his next bird.

Nadine stood beside Skogen as he fielded questions from the press. She admitted that he was excellent at this piece of his job, leveraging the media to help them narrow the search. She was, however, painfully aware that their offices would soon be flooded with tips that led nowhere, false leads and contacts by some profoundly disturbed individuals. His people would sift through them like a pan full of mud and rock to extract the gold.

When one of the reporters asked if the two of them were involved, Skogen’s smile made her squirm.

“Actually, we were together prior to Dr. Finch’s completion of her FBI training.”

When the questions became repetitive, Skogen called a halt, thanking the media for their attendance.

Coleman and Vea preceded them as Skogen escorted Nadine with an arm resting familiarly around her waist, hand cupping her hip. She smiled up at him, resisting the urge to shake loose. When they stepped through the doorway and the door closed behind them, she glanced expectantly at him, but he didn’t remove his hand from around her waist. Instead he drew her closer.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She stepped away, frowning. “It went well.”

“I would assume that there will be some media in the lobby and outside the hotel. I think we should hold hands as we leave the building,” he said.

She nodded her consent.

He was correct. Several of the reporters lingered in the lobby snapping their picture as they exited hand in hand.

Outside, they emerged into a thunderstorm, waiting beneath cover for their cars. Their driver emerged with an umbrella, which Skogen used to cover them both, holding her at his side with one hand as he extended the umbrella up high enough to allow photographers to catch their exit.

She respected Skogen but did not enjoy his touch, his scent or his overconfident smile. However, she thought he made an excellent target for the Huntsman.

That afternoon, Jack Skogen stopped at the safe house to check in. Tina alerted her and she found Jack in the kitchen accepting a cup of coffee from her assistant.

“Did you see the list Wynns forwarded?” he asked Nadine.

“Yes.” She slid onto one of the four stools at the kitchen island. There, Nadine opened her laptop and pulled up the document.

Tina set the mug before Skogen and took her leave. Nadine resisted the urge to call her back and then felt foolish at the impulse.

“Any word on the missing bellman?” she asked.

“No.”

Skogen lifted the mug and then came to stand beside her.

Kurt Wynns had narrowed their existing list of male contacts down to thirty-two Caucasian males who had moved into the area within the last seven months.

“Any live in Louisiana or Delaware?” she asked.

“Wynns is running their IDs now for previous addresses. He’ll send it along. You have anything else on the profiles?”

“I’ve narrowed the range based on the last victim’s capture and recovery. You’re sure she was taken from the pub where she worked?”

“Her car is still in the lot.”

“Okay. And I’ve added it and the recovery site.”

“Great.” He looked over her shoulder at her map, leaning in too close. He could have looked at this at the office. A Zoom meeting would have sufficed, and she would not now have his breath fanning her neck or his scent invading her nostrils.

“Could you let me know what this updated profile adds to our current target region?” He placed a hand beside her laptop keyboard, inches from hers as he leaned in. Nadine cast a sideward glance at his hand, and the dusting of dark hair on his knuckles. Was he hitting on her?

“My team found something else. We wanted to alert you.”

She turned to face him.

“Someone placed a tracking device on your vehicle.”

Her heart gave a jolt as she straightened.

“What? When?”

“Unknown. It’s been there awhile. Wynns went over it after you suggested that our target might have been watching you. It’s likely how he knew you had arrived and where you were staying.”

She was now