by Jenna Kernan
Nadine accessed the software for geographic profiling, studying her two maps. She’d created several mock versions while in Quantico, but the map of her mother’s series was the real deal. Unfortunately, the one for their copycat now had data from three victims.
After lunch, she checked her office voicemail. It was from Demko and very brief.
“Call me when you get this. It’s important.”
Her skin stippled. While she was in the process of calling back, her cell phone rang, and Demko’s name popped up on the screen. She connected the call.
“Hey there! What’s up?” she asked. Please let it not be Kerr’s lover.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“My office.”
“I’m up in Bradenton. Sheriff there thinks he found the murder site of our second female. It’s a beach on the Manatee River in Robinson Preserve. We collected a beach chair and camera bag tossed up in the tall grass. It’s got traces of blood. Initial test is a match for Hope Kerr.”
Nadine’s hand went to her throat as the implications came together in her mind.
“And there’s something else… remember you told me that Dr. Hartfield had recently been kayaking in Manatee?” he asked.
Nadine scowled. “Yeah, up in that preserve. You said lots of folks do.”
“Lab techs just phoned. Because of what you said about our unsub working on the inside, I asked them to run a print from the seltzer can we found at the initial crime scene from Lido Beach against our city employees.”
Nadine’s hand went around her throat. She knew what he would say before he even spoke, and it filled her with horror.
“It’s a match for Juliette Hartfield.”
Nadine reeled. How could this be happening? “Are you sure?”
“Certain. It’s a match.”
“She might have dropped it at the crime scene,” said Nadine, but even as she spoke the words, she knew that no investigator would discard garbage at an active homicide scene.
“She wasn’t at the crime scene. Only the body dump.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m trying to find out. I’ve got to bring her in for questioning.”
“No!”
The implications leapt and twirled in her mind, maniacal monsters dancing around a campfire.
Nadine rose to her feet, backing up until she hit the window ledge, one hand pressed to her pounding heart.
No one knew human anatomy better than Juliette. She handled a blade as part of her work. Plus, she was the one gathering samples from the bodies of their victims, giving her the opportunity to manipulate evidence. She was constantly in that damned kayak and was the only woman that Nadine knew who enjoyed fishing. Nadine had seen her tackle box. A murder kit disguised by fishing lures. Juliette had everything she needed to kill someone.
How long had Nadine been standing there with the phone in her hand?
Demko’s voice seemed far away.
“Nadine, stay there. Do you hear me? Don’t move. I’m sending a unit to your location.”
Twenty-Two
Anyone’s call
Demko ended the call and Nadine put her head on her desk as the implications of her part in this crashed in like a collapsing ceiling. He had run a search based on her suspicions. But there had to be an innocent explanation.
For the next hour, Nadine tried to clear her email in-box. She couldn’t focus. What was taking so long?
She pictured Juliette at the police station getting fingerprinted.
“Nadine?”
She startled right out of her seat to find Crean standing in the doorway, arms folded and looking cross.
“Detective Demko just called. He told me they’re picking up Juliette Hartfield for questioning.”
“Did he?” Her voice was a squeak.
“They are having trouble locating her. So, he has arranged a patrol unit to escort you home.”
“‘Patrol unit’?” He’d told her that. Hadn’t he? She seemed lost in a thick fog.
She gaped at Crean. This was a waking nightmare.
“You have a protective detail until they locate Hartfield, and this is settled.”
“Is that necessary?”
Crean lifted one brow. “I don’t think so. But he’s the detective. Escort is downstairs now.”
Nadine stood and retrieved her bag.
When she passed reception, Tina cast her a worried look and Nadine realized their office assistant had overheard the conversation.
Nadine ducked out into the hallway.
In the building’s lower lobby, a young officer waited. He was fresh-faced and muscular and introduced himself as Officer Pender. He explained that he would follow her to her residence and then wait there for the detective.
Nadine hustled out to the adjoining parking lot and her white Lexus. The interior was stifling. She tossed her bag on the passenger side and folded the silver sun shield that stretched across the windshield. By the time she got under way, the patrol unit was right behind her.
At her rental, Nadine left her vehicle in the drive and her escort parked on the street.
The officer met her on her narrow porch. “Let me do a walk-through first. Wait here.”
Nadine switched off the alarm with the fob and unlocked the door, then stepped aside as he headed into the place that once had been her sanctuary.
The patrolman reappeared a few moments later.
“It’s all clear,” said the young officer. “Cute place.”
“Thanks.” She used to think so. Now she recognized that she lived in a fishbowl. Would she ever again sit on the back porch and not wonder if someone was watching?
“Until Detective Demko gets here, I’ll be parked right there.” He pointed to the squad car. “Flash the lights if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
He gave Nadine a two-fingered salute and descended the steps from the porch to the driveway.
Nadine ducked inside, locked the front door and armed the system. If anyone opened a door or window, it would now trigger the alarm.
She dropped her bag and sank into a dinette chair, resting her elbows on the glass surface before burying her face in her hands. Above her, the ceiling fan spun, sending cool air whispering over the back of her neck.
This queasiness was so familiar, reminding her of sitting in the counselor’s office back in high school, with the adults whispering outside the door.
Nadine’s stomach twisted as she walked straight from the bus to the counselor’s office. The secretary smiled.
“Well, Nadine. We haven’t seen you in a while.”
Nadine clutched her books before her like a stuffed toy.
“Are you here to see Mr. Pierson?”
She nodded, letting her hair fall over her face.
“He’s not here right now. Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” she whispered. What was she doing? Was she really going to tell?
“I can have him call you out of class when he has an opening.”
Anxiety coiled around her ribs like a python. Her mother might see that bag of garbage under the house. She might get rid of it. Then it was only her word against her mother’s.
Nadine remained where she was.
“Why don’t you head to class. You don’t want to be late.”
“I need to see him right now!”
The secretary startled at Nadine’s change of tone.
“Well, if it’s that important, I’ll have him paged.” Her hand hovered over the receiver, as if paging him were a bluff.
Nadine stood her ground and the secretary finally picked up her phone. Then she motioned with her other hand.
“Go on in and have a seat.”
Nadine headed into the counselor’s office and sat. She needed to get someone to find Sandra before it was too late.
The sour taste in her mouth returned with the same seasick pitching.
“Snitches get stitches.” That’s what her mother said.<
br />
She didn’t care. She was doing this.
Outside the counselor’s office, she heard Mr. Pierson greet the secretary. Then the whispering began.
The western sunlight bounced off the glass surface of the table, bright as a flashlight in Nadine’s face. She stood, stiff. How long had she been sitting?
It couldn’t be Juliette. Impossible. But was it?
Juliette drank that damn flavored seltzer all the time. She’d kayaked at both Lido and Robinson Preserve. Circumstantial. But finding her fingerprint at a crime scene was not.
Demko thought the threat serious enough to give her a protective detail. That frightened her most of all.
Nadine headed for the front door. From the porthole window, she thought she caught movement along the thick greenery in her neighbor’s yard. She peered out between cupped hands and saw nothing. But the sense of being watched was unmistakable. The hairs on her neck lifted and her cheeks tingled.
The police unit sat across the road, beyond the front entrance, just as it had been. The squad car blocked much of the narrow street.
Nadine waved. But the patrolman did not notice her.
Annoyed now, she released the door lock and stepped onto her porch. Her alarm chirped, reminding her the system was armed. She recovered the fob and hit the button before it set off the siren. Then she paused inside the door.
She flashed her outside light as Pender had directed. Then she waited. No movement came from Pender’s car.
His head was tipped forward.
Was the guy asleep or on his phone?
“Well, hell.”
Her approach started as a stomp, but as she crunched across the crushed shells in the drive, her sense of danger engaged. The sun had dipped behind the tall condos that lined the bay.
Something was wrong.
The dense cover of oaks gave the street the look of twilight. Low-hanging storm clouds swept in from the east. Gusts of wind tore through the leaves, shaking the branches and sending debris raining down on the patrol car. A limb, the size of her arm, thudded on the unit’s hood. Inside, Pender didn’t move.
Nadine stood in the street, facing the parked squad car. To reach Pender, she would need to walk beside the wall of palm fronds.
She crept to the front bumper. The wind blew dirt and sand into her eyes and mouth. She snorted, expelling the dust in her nose.
The temperature was dropping, alerting her that the rain was closing in. A glance toward the east showed the blue-gray streaks of rain streaming from the storm clouds, releasing torrents of water, moving in her direction.
The officer’s windshield reflected the oak branches better than the driver, but she made Pender out as she inched forward.
Nadine gripped the door handle and swung it open.
The smell was unmistakable.
Garbage day.
Blood coated the dash and dripped from the ceiling. The officer’s eyes were wide open, and his shirt was soaking wet. Beneath his strong chin, a black gash oozed thick dark blood. His hand slipped from his lap, revealing the red cordage tied about his wrist and neatly severed at a length of only a foot.
Nadine backed away, catching her heel on the curb and toppling to the ground. There, she scuttled, crablike, until she collided with the trunk of the oak.
She flipped to her hands and knees, screaming. Only her vocal cords had constricted, and the sound that came from her throat was a strangled roar.
Her phone… was in the house. She stumbled to the hood of the vehicle, using one hand to push herself erect. Before her, the narrow street stretched, and beyond glimmered the safety of her house.
Nadine froze in the drive.
She’d left the front door open.
She ran for the cottage, her breath frantic little pants. She pounded along the porch and across the threshold, stumbling through the entrance as the rain raced down the street behind her.
Where was the killer now? Where was her phone? She glanced to the dinette and, spotting it there, took one step in that direction.
Someone called her name. The voice came from inside her cottage.
“Nadine? What’s wrong?”
Nadine stared at the woman standing in her living room just past the couch. For a moment, she thought it was her mother.
“Nadine?” She stepped forward, coming toward her, and Nadine recognized her now.
Juliette Hartfield was in her house.
Twenty-Three
Best-laid plans
Nadine didn’t think as she leapt from the porch and dashed to the road.
“Nadine?” Juliette was after her again, pursuing her out into the torrent.
Nadine faced her, fists up, as Arlo had taught her, ready to strike.
Rain beat down on the street and surrounding rooftops at deafening volume. The rain fell in sheets, but the tree protected her from the worst of the downpour.
Juliette kept coming, gripping a knife.
The flash of silver from the blade was unmistakable. Had the storm washed away the blood?
Nadine lunged, punching her hard in the face, landing a solid blow to Juliette’s eye socket before leaping away. Nadine’s knuckles stung from the blow, but she kept her chin tucked and her fists raised.
Juliette dropped to her knees, her hands coming up.
Should I hit her again or kick her? No. Grab the knife and…
Do everyone a favor.
The knife fell from Juliette’s hand, clattering to the concrete. Nadine glanced at the weapon and saw only a cell phone.
Nadine sucked in a breath as her gaze darted to Juliette’s open empty hands, now pressed to her face.
The blade. A cell phone. The situation tipped on its head. Juliette hadn’t threatened her. But Nadine had punched her in the eye.
Juliette dropped her hands. Already, her cheek was puffy and red.
“You hit me!”
“What are you doing here?” Nadine shouted, confusion and anger blending like the wind and rain.
“You texted me,” Juliette said.
“I didn’t.”
Raindrops beat off the glass screen as Juliette reached for her phone.
The adrenaline and the fury at being confronted in her home still roared inside Nadine. Loud. So loud she couldn’t think.
“See?” Juliette turned the screen, still on the ground, as she extended her arm.
Reading a text through the violent rain was impossible, because she’d have to step closer. She wouldn’t.
“What does it say?”
Juliette turned the phone and read aloud. “‘It’s Nadine. Lost my phone. Using neighbor’s. Come to my place, please! Right now! Emergency!’”
“I didn’t lose my phone. I didn’t write that.” Nadine began shivering.
Juliette held her unoccupied hand to her injured face.
Nadine was shaking.
“You’ve ignored my texts for nearly a month. But now you come here when I call?”
“You said emergency!” said Juliette.
“You could have written it. Used another phone. You could have killed him.”
“Killed who? Nadine, what are you talking about?”
“You were there. At Lido Beach. They know, Juliette.”
“I don’t understand.”
Rain soaked Juliette’s clothing. The pale blue cotton blouse was nearly transparent, and the slacks stuck to her legs. Her mascara ran down her cheeks with the water droplets. Juliette’s perky hair was plastered to her skull. Nadine had never seen her hair without its characteristic spikes. Juliette looked younger, frightened, lost.
What am I doing?
Nadine lowered her fists. Juliette hesitated, then stood.
“They sent me home with a police escort,” said Nadine.
“What? Why?”
Nadine didn’t answer that.
“Did you see Detective Demko?”
“When?”
“Today. This afternoon.”
“No. I was out on a call.
Just got back from a multivehicle accident.”
They stood in silence, two gunfighters on opposite ends of the thoroughfare.
Juliette’s jaw was clacking now, and she hugged herself against the cold and the wet.
“The officer they sent to watch me is dead.”
“Watch you what?” Confusion wrinkled Juliette’s brow as she looked toward the police unit.
“He’s dead. Murdered.”
“What officer?” She glanced about. “Why is he watching you?”
“Go check him.”
She did, giving Nadine a very wide berth as she sidestepped past and to the patrol car. Juliette bent at the waist, resting her empty palm on the roof of the squad car, adding her prints to Nadine’s. It was a smart move… if she were the killer.
Nadine balled her hands to fists, ready to strike again if necessary.
Juliette straightened fast and stared back at Nadine, blinking in the downpour.
“Somebody slit his throat,” she said, checking for a pulse. Then she drew back. “I’m calling the police.”
“Yeah. Do that.” Her mind was jumping around, trying to tell her something, but also flitting from thought to thought, erratic as the flight of a butterfly.
The rain let up. Nadine had left the patrolman’s door open. Blood ran from the vehicle into the storm drain.
Doubts. They filled her like the rain flooding the street. Doubts that Juliette was the unsub.
Nadine watched her make the call and that thought, the one she couldn’t quite grasp, finally popped up from her subconscious.
If Juliette was innocent, she might be looking in the wrong direction.
Nadine turned in a circle, glancing about at the familiar street that now seemed full of dangerous places to hide and watch. The thick fronds of the Arenga palm moved. Was that a face?
“Hey!”
Nadine dashed toward her neighbor’s fence, tracking the movement in the waving greenery. From somewhere off to the east came the shrill shriek of sirens. At the fence, Nadine paused as the practical part of her brain re-engaged. If there were someone there, she’d like to know who it was, but chasing them through dense cover in the rain might be a terrible idea. No, it was a terrible idea.