The Hunted Girls

by Jenna Kernan

Nadine sat up in the hospital bed, clear-eyed and rested from the night’s sleep. She’d survived it. Somehow Jack had gotten her message to Demko and he had found her out there amid hundreds of commercial boats.

  Demko had been here last night when she’d finally tumbled into sleep, holding his hand as he assured her that she was safe. Juliette had stanched his wound. A sliver of the winch system had been blown away by the shotgun blast and punctured his shoulder. His treatment had involved antibiotics and several stitches.

  She’d thought she had been fine until Clint brought her aboard the second vessel and she began experiencing what she thought was a stress reaction. It turned out she also had a fever and was dehydrated.

  Part of her felt lucky. Decristofaro was dead, sparing them the trauma of a trial. The victims’ families would never have to witness the man who killed their daughter, sister, wife, girlfriend, sit remorseless at trial, or suffer the indignation of knowing he still walked and talked and breathed while their loved ones were gone forever.

  His brother, Leonard, had been released without charges, as he had no knowledge of his brother’s plans.

  Nadine turned her head to look at Demko, sitting in the vinyl chair at her bedside. The dark stubble of beard growing on his face and red-rimmed eyes showed she had slept far better than he had. His arm rested in a sling so new, it still had the fold marks from packaging.

  “Good morning,” he said and took her hand, gently offering a kiss on the knuckles past the finger monitor.

  “Hey there.” She lifted her chin to accept a kiss on the mouth. He lingered and she slipped her tongue along his, igniting a fire between them. Her heart rate monitor beeped at a faster pace, making her laugh.

  He drew back.

  “You’re feeling better.” He cast her a wicked smile.

  “So much better. Care to join me?” She lifted the blanket.

  “Too tired to climb over the rail,” he said and grinned. “Almost.”

  “You planning to head home and shower?” she asked.

  “That a hint?”

  She smiled. “You smell like the catch of the day.”

  He dropped his smile, suddenly looking serious.

  “Clint?”

  He grasped her hand. “Nadine, when I thought I’d lost you, I went crazy. I’ve never been so scared.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He took you right out from under our noses. He could have killed you.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Because you were right. He wanted you.”

  “To bear him an entire litter of psycho killers. He told me I had the perfect lineage. Just what he needed to build a dynasty.” She looked away. The pain in her heart too raw to allow him to see.

  “Nadine. I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head, pressing her lips together as she struggled to rein in the tears that made her throat ache.

  “He wasn’t wrong, Clint.” She risked a look at him and saw nothing but confusion. “About my lineage. My mother’s side is a nightmare of murder and death. My brother, my grandfather and my mother are felons. And who even knows what horrors are lurking on my father’s side.”

  “What are you saying, Nadine?”

  “It’s why I asked for time. I didn’t know how to tell you this. How afraid I am.” The tears came, but she wouldn’t let them stop her from getting this out this time. “What if I marry you and… I know you want children.”

  “I never said that.”

  “But you do. You’re the perfect dad. You should have kids. As many as you like. But not my kids. My kids might be… damaged. They might carry that same killer code that runs through me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  She took his hand and shook it. “It’s not. Some families have breast cancer, fibroids, diabetes, heart disease. I have murder.”

  “I don’t believe that, Nadine. It’s how they are raised. There is no killer code.”

  He rejected the importance of the research, just like Juliette. She knew better. It wasn’t some unfounded fear. She had it. So did Arlo.

  “It’s real, Clint.”

  “A combination of factors. That’s what experts say.”

  He’d been doing research, she realized.

  “A proclivity,” she countered. “Innate.”

  “So what if it is? You’re telling me that everyone born with that gene sequence or chemical thing grows up to be a killer?”

  “No. Not all. But the percentages…”

  “Percentages.” He scoffed. “Nadine, you’re not a killer. Because you choose not to be. It’s a choice we all make. Follow the law and rules of society, or don’t. You are not your parents. And as for children, we can have them or not. We can adopt. We can work all that out, but only if you’ll give us a chance.”

  Nadine met his gaze and knew he was right. He was brave and strong and so good for her. She’d lived with guilt and shame and fear for so long. She’d balked because of her past and nearly been lost to him forever. Now she needed to be brave enough to stop living in the past in favor of a future with Clint Demko as her husband.

  The knock at the door brought an end to their conversation. Gabriella Carter stepped in, carrying a vase of sunflowers, which she set on the side table.

  “How are you, Dr. Finch?”

  “Feeling better, Agent Carter. These are lovely.”

  “I spoke to your doctor. He tells me that he’ll discharge you today, sometime after he makes rounds.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “Yes. We’re going to need you to make a statement. Would you be willing to come to the Ocala field office tomorrow?”

  “I’m sure I can make it.” She turned to Demko. “Where are we staying?”

  “Safe house. No reason to leave now.”

  “You’ll be returning to the Tampa office while we finish up here,” said Carter. “That might be a few weeks yet. We’ll need you to help. Paperwork. Interviews and so on.”

  “I’d like to request that Tina Ruz’s position as my assistant be made permanent.”

  “I can work that out.” Carter went to leave, then turned back. “Oh, one bit of news that Agent Wynns asked me to pass on. Decristofaro resided in Miami for over a year. That’s why he didn’t pop on the searches because he wasn’t officially residing here. Paid under the table by the Kilpatrick family who gave him a trailer on their property as part of the arrangement. His mailing address is still Miami. But Wynns said, you were still right.”

  “Untraceable,” said Demko.

  “Seems so.” Carter turned to Nadine. “I’m glad you’re doing better. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  She strode out like a woman on a mission. Was she on her way to see Skogen?

  Demko left her shortly after Carter’s departure.

  Nadine used the call button and accepted help getting washed up. Unfortunately, she was not able to dress and the intravenous line remained in her hand. But she was eating and drinking on her own.

  Upon return to her bed, she ate her breakfast and awaited her doctor, impatient to be discharged.

  From the nurse, she discovered that Skogen was on her floor. Her nurse agreed to accompany her to his room, promising she wouldn’t miss her physician making rounds, because she’d receive an alert.

  Nadine walked slowly down the hall in her underwear and hospital gown, one hand gripping the stainless-steel stem to the rack holding her IV drip.

  From the hallway of Skogen’s room, she spotted several bright bouquets of flowers. Moving inside, she noted a Mylar balloon tied to his bedrail. Layah Coleman sat beside his bed, an eReader in her hand.

  “Dr. Finch.” She sounded surprised. “You’re up.”

  “I’ll be discharged today.” Nadine beamed.

  Coleman rose and met her beside the bed, first offering her a hug and then the seat.

  She turned her attention to Jack. The swelling at his face distorted his features. But his color was better. His lips were cracked and his c
hest bare except for the bandage that wrapped around his ribs. Above and below, the reddish purple bruises blossomed.

  Beside him sat the usual monitors, IV drip and a medical dispenser for on-demand morphine.

  “He been awake?”

  “Axel spoke to him last night. He’s been out since I got here. He’s still in a lot of pain.”

  “Demko told me he had surgery.”

  “They removed his spleen. His kidneys are bruised.” She motioned to the bag of urine hanging at his bedrail. The blood turned the fluid pink.

  “But he’s out of the woods. That’s what they say. Everything will heal with time.”

  Not everything, thought Nadine, looking at his bandaged hands, recalling the sight of the raw wounds where his nails had been.

  “The doctor said the soft tissue damage will leave scars and they don’t know yet if the nerve damage is permanent,” said Layah.

  Nadine silently took it all in. The man in the bed had nearly lost his life because of her. But had she saved him, too?

  “Did they find an engagement ring on Jack’s hand?”

  “I don’t know. I can find out.”

  “Thanks. And, Layah, could you please advocate for counseling? He’ll need to speak to someone.”

  “He’ll be required to do that.”

  Nadine exhaled a breath, feeling slightly better. Jack’s mental wounds would be less obvious but just as serious.

  “What about you?” asked Layah.

  “I already have a therapist. I’m sure this will keep us busy for years.” She tried and failed for a laugh.

  “Dr. Finch, I have a question. Dr. Hartfield told us what happened on the boat. She said you knocked the barrel of his gun away, giving Detective Demko time to shoot.”

  Nadine nodded.

  “She also said that afterward, he spoke to you and you said something to him before running to Detective Demko.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m wondering, what did you say?”

  Nadine thought back to that moment, Decristofaro reaching for her and calling her name.

  “I told him that natural selection also leads to extinctions.”

  Coleman’s brows shot up and then she smiled.

  Nadine stepped up beside Jack’s bed, moving in close to whisper into his ear.

  “You did it, Jack. You saved me. Thank you for my life.” She stroked the hair back from his forehead and dropped a kiss on his forehead, forgiving him for lying to her and everything else.

  He’d been the leak that had brought the Huntsman after them. He’d have to live with that. But had his actions helped them find Decristofaro sooner? Had he saved unknown victims a terrible fate?

  She didn’t know. But she was happy to be free and safe and on the mend.

  “I’ll see you at the office,” she said to Layah, and walked back to her room pushing her IV stand and accompanied by her nurse.

  She was surprised at the visitor waiting there to see her.

  “Dr. Crean?”

  THREE DAYS LATER

  Juliette Hartfield popped her head into Nadine’s bedroom office in the safe house. She and Tina had returned this morning to collect their belongings before heading back to Tampa and Nadine’s new assignment with the FBI field office there. Clint would be returning to his position in the Sarasota Police, Homicide department, and Juliette would be resuming her post as a medical examiner for District 12.

  “How’s Skogen?” asked Juliette.

  “Still on a morphine drip for the pain, but his body is healing.”

  Juliette had told them that, although internal injuries would heal and so would the broken bones, there was some doubt that his fingers would ever recover from the torture.

  “What does that mean for his career?” asked Tina.

  “Well, if the scarring on his fingers causes contractures and permanent nerve damage, he won’t be able to continue in the field. It will be up to him to decide on reassignment or retire from the Bureau.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Nadine.

  “Not so terrible. He’s got a literary agent and ghostwriter lined up. Rumors of a major book deal.”

  “And Crean’s book is out.” Tina spoke of their old supervisor, Margery Crean, who had been shot and recently delivered a signed copy of her book to Nadine’s bedside.

  “Why don’t you write a book?” asked Juliette. “Everyone else is cashing in.”

  Nadine smiled. She was no longer afraid of the publicity. No longer running from the limelight. But that didn’t mean she cared to turn it on herself.

  “Someday, maybe. After I’ve put a few more bad guys in prison.”

  “I’m keeping notes,” said Tina.

  Both women turned to her.

  “You’re what?” asked Nadine.

  “Case notes, calendars and journal entries. To help you remember when you decide to write it all down.”

  Nadine had thought she might start doing that, but it seemed she did not need to.

  “Thank you, Tina.”

  Her assistant beamed.

  “Dr. Crean came to see me at the hospital,” said Nadine.

  The two women gaped.

  “What?” asked Juliette at the same time Tina asked, “Why?”

  “She wants me to write the foreword for her next book.”

  “No!” said Juliette. Though whether this was shock or her reply, Nadine didn’t know.

  “I said I would.”

  “That’s a surprise,” said Juliette. “I thought you were avoiding the limelight.”

  “Time to accept that I’m out there and get a grip on the narrative.”

  “Hurrah!” said Tina. “Our book will blow hers away.”

  Nadine laughed. “Not so fast. I think I’ll start by accepting a few interviews from our Florida newspapers.”

  “I can set that up,” said Tina.

  “You’ll have to. I’ve asked Carter to make your position with me permanent.”

  Tina rushed forward and threw herself against Nadine, sending them back a step. Nadine hugged her as Tina pressed her face into her neck for a moment before drawing back.

  Then she clasped her hands and lifted her shoulders. “I’m so happy.”

  “Looks like me and Demko are the only ones heading back to Sarasota,” said Juliette.

  “It’s only forty-five minutes to Tampa.”

  “Without traffic,” they said in unison and then, also in unison, “There’s always traffic!”

  Nadine laughed.

  “Juliette, are you interested in working for the Bureau? I’m certain you could if you liked.”

  “And leave Demko behind?”

  Tina glanced over her shoulder and stepped aside. She looked positively gleeful as Clint Demko appeared in the doorway.

  “Who’s leaving me behind?”

  Clint joined them looking fit and healthy. He’d got rid of the sling and so there was no outward evidence of the injury to his shoulder. He cast them all a winning smile.

  “Tina is going to Tampa with Nadine,” said Juliette.

  Demko nodded at this and glanced to Nadine’s luggage, all packed.

  “You still lugging that brick around?”

  “Well, you’ll be the one lugging it, if you’re putting those suitcases in the SUV.”

  “Can we see it?” asked Tina.

  She lifted the smaller roller bag to the couch and unwound the Bubble Wrap, thinking it ridiculous to protect a brick. Then she held out the mark of achievement, with its brightly painted Yellow Brick Road, the year and her graduating class number in black.

  “It’s yellow!” said Tina, looking surprised as she came forward to admire the object marking Nadine’s accomplishment.

  “For the Yellow Brick Road,” said Nadine.

  “So badass!” Juliette touched the surface with reverence.

  Clint took his turn to admire the unwieldy trophy and handed it back. “It’s such an incredible accomplishment.”

  Nadine smiled
, warm inside and out from the approval of her closest friends. Then she set the trophy in the bag.

  Juliette wrapped an arm around Nadine and Tina, dragging them against her as they all admired the yellow brick. Her family, Nadine thought, and sighed, suddenly happier than she’d ever been in her life.

  “We’re proud of you,” said Demko.

  Nadine choked the words out past the tears. “I love you guys.”

  Demko cleared his throat. “Might be getting one myself, next year.”

  All three women turned to him. Nadine gaped. “What?”

  “I got a nudge from Supervisory Special Agent Carter. She’d like to recommend me.”

  “That’s wonderful!” said Juliette, offering Demko a quick hug.

  “So cool!” said Tina.

  “Another separation,” said Nadine.

  “Yeah, but maybe you can arrange additional training. We could share a bunk in the dormitory.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, that isn’t a thing.”

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  She stepped forward and into his arms. “I think it’s marvelous.”

  Nadine kissed him, then leaned back, but he kept her locked in his arms.

  She heard Tina say, “Dr. Hartfield? Could I speak to you outside?”

  That was her signal. Nadine sucked in a breath and tightened up, the nerves engaging, making her muscles go rigid.

  Clint released her. His expression showed confusion.

  He watched the pair make a hasty exit. “We having a cake or something?”

  While it was true they had no time to celebrate her graduation from the FBI National Academy, it was not cake waiting, but champagne, and it would remain in the refrigerator unless Nadine got the answer she sought.

  Clint cocked his head, trying to work out what was happening. He turned to Nadine and found her opening her nightstand.

  Her throat had gone dry as the Mojave and her hand shook as she withdrew the velvet box he had given her. It now held the ring, thanks to Agent Coleman wrangling it out of evidence.

  Clint spotted the box. “Nadine?”

  She stepped before him.

  Now she understood his tortured, nervous expression when he’d proposed. Sweat trickled down her back.

  “Clint, this last case clarified the precious gift of each moment we have together. It helped me realize what I want. Please forgive me for my delay.”