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

bay. They continued west, unsure whether to turn south in the direction of their travel or north to intercept. The possibility of missing them by guessing incorrectly kept them angling west.

“Tina?” Demko used the agreed-upon radio frequency, unsure if their phones would prove reliable.

“I’m here. We’re looking north.” There was a pause. “We got one, but the nets are out. Want us to keep going?”

“Get the name.”

“Hang on.”

He waited for the endless minutes.

“It’s… Reel Lady Jane.”

“Keep going. Call when you get something.”

The radio silence was deafening as they continued.

“Clint! Clint! Over?” Tina sounded breathless.

“Here, Tina.”

“I’ve got her. Miss Faro. I can see the boat.”

“Stay back. Don’t let them spot you.”

“Roger.”

“Any sign of Nadine?”

“No. Just the shrimp boat and… I can’t see anyone on board. We’ve passed it and then came around. Want me to make another pass?”

“No. Give me your position and head away.”

“Yes. Okay.” Tina relayed what the pilot said. “He says we’ve got another hour fly time. We’ll move out of sight and stand by.”

Their captain gunned the motor and swung them to the north.

“Five nautical miles,” he said.

“How long?”

“Twenty minutes.”

After ten minutes, the copilot, a patrol officer with two years in, retrieved a large case.

“A drone?” asked Demko.

“Yup. New toy and I’m one of two trained to operate this baby.”

“How far can it go?”

“Five miles.”

“I don’t want them to see it,” said Demko.

“Or hear it,” said Juliette.

“Can’t hear it over their engines and I’ll stay just below cloud cover.”

He had the white drone set up in moments. It lifted into the air, heading north below low clouds.

Demko, Juliette and their captain watched the computer screen as the green water turned blue as it deepened.

“There it is!” said Juliette.

On the screen appeared a sky view of a shrimp trawler.

The operator worked the camera and the image enlarged.

“Don’t get too close,” said Demko.

“Zooming,” said the drone operator.

“I only see one man in the wheelhouse.”

Demko looked at the small image.

“That him?” asked the copilot.

He narrowed his eyes, squinting at his target. “Yes.”

Juliette peered at the screen. “Where’s Nadine?”

“Likely below decks,” said the operator.

“When he spots us, we need to look like a charter fishing outfit.”

“How will you get on board?” asked Juliette.

“We have to get close enough to jump.”

“You’ll land in the water.”

The captain spoke up. “I can skim the side.”

“Juliette, radio Tina. Tell her we made a positive ID on Lionel Decristofaro and to call in the coast guard and FBI.”

“Are we waiting for them?”

“No. We’re hitting him right now.”

The sedative’s effects still clung to her, making concentration difficult. When Lionel dragged in the fisherman, Nadine was seeing double and couldn’t lift her head.

Now she pushed herself up on one elbow and closed an eye, making it easier to focus.

The man lying on the floor below her wore dirty coveralls, a tan canvas work shirt and one rubber boot. His other foot was bare. His full dark beard covered much of his cheeks and his wavy hair grew in a wild cap.

Nadine inched across the vinyl mat to get a better look. Her wrists were taped before her, as were her ankles. The pointed shape of the compartment and the up-and-down motion told her this was the front of the boat.

What was her best course?

During her FBI training, an instructor had advised to take an inventory of available resources.

She had only the flannel shirt. The compartment was empty, and the twin berths were padlocked shut. The only other obvious resource was the unconscious man. Nadine worked her legs off the compartment and eased to the floor. She spent the next few minutes searching him and recovered a red folding multitool from his front pocket.

Jackpot.

The awkward position of her bound hands increased the difficulty in both opening a blade and wielding the tool, but Nadine was determined. With a knife, she might escape this room and find a better weapon to confront Lionel.

She knew from the man’s arrival that beyond the door were three short steps and then cloudy skies. The width of the compartment meant this was a small vessel, perhaps thirty-five feet.

She could barely recall coming on board. Everything in her mind was fuzzy.

Nadine sat with her back braced against the berth and the open blade of the multitool clutched between her bare feet as she sliced through the tape wrapping her wrists.

Every second she expected Lionel to return. If she could just get her hands and feet free, she could defend herself. And if she could reach a radio or cell phone, she could bring help.

At last the tape gave way. Nadine used her teeth to rip away the bonds. Then she turned to her feet, making quick work of the tethers.

Free at last, she turned to the unconscious man. This was his brother. Is that what he’d said? A second search yielded nothing to identify him or prove useful.

Then she studied the coveralls. In a few minutes she had dragged them off and slipped them on, grateful for the adjustable suspenders that allowed her to wear the overlarge gear.

What next? Force open the cabinets and see what might lie inside or work on the door. Likely there would be ropes and gear. Might she find a grabbling hook or club? Nets?

It was a crapshoot.

She turned to the door, trying the latch and finding it locked. The hinges seemed a better option. All she needed to do was remove the pins.

Using the plier tool, she wiggled the pin. Once she gained a half inch, she beat the closed multitool against the pin like a hammer in time to the crash of waves against the hull, hoping to disguise her work. When the last pin dropped to the deck, she paused to stretch her cramped hand and examine her blistered palms. The torn skin stung, and clear fluid dampened her hands.

Then she tugged at the door and eased a gap between the hinges and frame and slipped out. She paused at the bottom step and selected the largest blade, extending the four-inch steel.

Her mother had killed