by Stacy Green
“Neither does he,” Nikki said. “Sergeant, what do you know about the farmer who owns the ground?”
“He’s around our age, inherited the family farm. No record of any sort. Son’s fourteen, never been in any trouble.”
Nikki looked at Liam, who shivered in the brisk wind. “Is the truck almost here?”
“The rolling freezer?” Liam asked. “Yeah.”
“First time I’ve seen it used,” Sergeant Miller said. “Never dreamed it would be for two little girls instead of some poor soul who fell through the ice.”
Courtney crouched beside Madison, using her high-powered magnifier on the girl’s jeans. “God, this wind is a bitch. Any trace evidence is probably long gone unless it’s frozen in the clothes.”
“Boss, why don’t you go warm up in your car and wait for the morgue truck? I’ll stay with them.” Liam circled the bodies, taking pictures with the digital camera.
Nikki would normally refuse, but her damned feet and hands ached from the cold.
Her mind raced ahead as she and Miller walked back in silence. Given the frozen state of the bodies, Nikki understood why Sheriff Hardin wanted to inform her. But with her family’s name in the news again, Nikki wondered if Hardin hadn’t jumped at the chance to bring her into town. She hadn’t set foot in Stillwater in nearly twenty years, and despite the desolate location, it felt like the town was already suffocating her.
Now that she was sure it wasn’t Frost, she could hand the investigation back to the local police. Nikki could go back to St. Paul and keep Stillwater in her past, where it belonged. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to get the image of the two girls lying dead in the snow out of her head.
“Shit,” Miller hissed. “Someone must have tipped her off.”
Nikki shielded her eyes against the blowing snow. A four-door pickup had parked in front of Nikki’s jeep. The woman behind the wheel watched as the refrigerated truck ambled down the drive and came to a stop behind the sergeant’s cruiser. She typed something into her phone, and then checked her reflection in the rearview mirror.
“It’s Caitlin Newport,” Miller said. “She’s—”
“I know who she is.” Caitlin’s last true-crime documentary had helped get a death-row inmate a new trial. In 2000, Fred Elwood was convicted of the brutal murder of his sixty-eight-year-old mother-in-law. His young niece testified she’d hidden in the closet and was certain her uncle had committed the murder, but she later recanted her story. DNA evidence had finally exonerated Elwood last year.
Caitlin hopped out of the pickup and pulled a hat over her honey-colored hair. She scanned the scene before zipping her coat to her chin and striding through the snow as though she had every right to intrude on a crime scene.
Instead of designer snow boots and a figure-flattering coat, Caitlin had opted for bulky snow pants and a well-worn parka. Caitlin didn’t usually dress so sensibly, and Nikki could tell she was trying to blend in with the locals. Sunglasses hid her shrewd eyes, but Nikki still felt the weight of the filmmaker’s stare.
“My guys will take care of her.” Miller motioned to the two pink-cheeked deputies tasked with standing in the frigid weather and keeping the scene clear.
The taller deputy blocked the reporter’s path, shaking his head. Caitlin looked up at him with a bemused expression and then pointed toward Nikki.
“It’s okay, deputy.” Nikki eyed the reporter.
Caitlin smiled at the deputy as he stepped aside. She strode through the snow like a prize fighter, her attention squarely on Nikki.
Nikki raised her hand in warning. “Don’t step over that crime scene tape.”
“I know the rules, Agent.” Caitlin’s friendliness was about as real as her hair color. “I have to say I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I was invited,” Nikki said. “Unlike yourself.”
Caitlin shrugged. “Don’t be so sure of that. How’s the hunt for the Frost Killer coming along?”
Nikki had encountered the reporter twice in the last two years, both times during a Frost investigation. Caitlin knew the serial killer wouldn’t suddenly change his methods. “Well, it is his favorite time of year.”
“Surely the police don’t think he suddenly changed his M.O. and took two high-school girls?” Caitlin’s surprised tone wasn’t fooling Nikki.
“How do you know anything about the victims?” Nikki asked.
“Stillwater’s grown since you left, but it’s still a relatively small town. News travels fast.”
“Fantastic,” Nikki said. “I’m still not giving you information on this case.”
“You’re working it, then?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Caitlin slid her sunglasses on top of her head. Colored contacts made her eyes a chilling blue. “It’s just surprising.”
Nikki chewed the inside of her cheek. She’d become a household name in Stillwater. Everyone in town recognized her as the girl who found her parents murdered, and she’d been the star witness at the trial. She’d encountered Mark Todd in the house that night and was the reason he’d been convicted so quickly. Everyone in Stillwater either looked at her with pity or didn’t look at her at all. And after the trial she’d just wanted to finish school and get out of town.
Caitlin was resourceful enough that she had to know bad memories weren’t the only reason for Nikki to stay out of town. After all, she’d been recognized as soon as she’d left anyway—the case wasn’t just famous in Stillwater—and she’d had to cut her hair, dye it blond and ask her professors at the University of Minnesota to refrain from using her last name just so she could attempt a normal life. Caitlin was trying to bait her into talking about new developments in her parents’ murders. Nikki had ignored all media requests over the past month, and she wasn’t about to give Caitlin Newport an exclusive.
Two death investigators approached the barricade carrying the equipment they needed to collect the bodies.
“Down the hill, cornfield’s around the corner.” Nikki’s patience was running thin. “Newport, you need to leave. Or I’ll have you escorted away from the area.”
“Have the police identified the bodies?”
If Caitlin wanted information, she would have to get it from the local police. “No comment. Have a nice day.”
Nikki turned her back on the woman and followed the guys from the medical examiner’s office. Stillwater may have grown in the years since she’d left, but like the filmmaker said, it was still a small town, and news traveled fast. How long did Nikki have before everyone found out she was here and she had to deal with a barrage of questions she didn’t want to answer?
She trudged over the hill and into the field. Courtney knelt next to one of the bodies while Liam concentrated on photographing the scene. She and her team had worked enough cases in the snow and Nikki didn’t have much hope for any trace evidence. “I assume you haven’t found anything?”
“Nope,” Courtney said. “These poor babies are frozen just as solid as Frost’s victims, which means we’ve got to wait at least a week for them to thaw.”
“Why is that?” Miller asked.
“Thawing a body is a slow process,” Courtney explained. “They need to be brought to room temperature gradually or we risk losing evidence. Appendages thaw first, so I may be able to swab fingernails. But the medical examiner won’t allow the removal of clothes or shoes until the bodies are fully thawed.”
“Which means at least five days,” Nikki said. “What can we do today?”
Courtney nodded. “Very little. Once they’re situated in the truck, I can use the UV light and look for blood or possible semen. I won’t be able to take any samples until the medical examiner clears it, but we’ll at least know if there’s anything viable.”
The death investigators struggled with the solid limbs as they carefully put each girl into a body bag.
Courtney sniffled. “I’ll never understand how people can be so cruel to one another. These girls had thei
r whole lives ahead of them.”
“Some people are born evil.” Nikki squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “Others are made. They enjoy seeing people suffer. It’s about control.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Courtney said. “Working with bodies is bad enough, but to have to deal with the killers, face to face? And try to understand them? No thanks.”
Early in her career with the FBI, a serial killer who’d taken the lives of at least four pre-teen boys had looked Nikki dead in the eye and explained the kill as “the most satisfying thing” he’d ever done. The seasoned agent next to Nikki had blanched, but she’d remained stone-faced, unimpressed. The man went on to describe his crimes in grisly detail, clearly enjoying the reaction of Nikki’s colleague and simultaneously getting more and more agitated at Nikki’s lack of emotion. He’d continued to talk in an effort to impress her, to get a reaction out of her. That’s when he broke and admitted to the murder she wanted to nail him for: the kidnapping and killing of a twelve-year-old boy nearly a decade before. Her peers had been in awe and more than a little unnerved by Nikki’s ability to stay so remote and focused. She’d never been able to explain to anyone that her resolve came from years of blocking out the memories of her parents’ murders.
“After we speak with the families, I’ll issue a statement for the press,” she told Miller.
“I can deal with the press,” Miller said. “You’re going to be bombarded with personal questions. Easier if I just make the statement.”
“Don’t rule out Frost,” Nikki said. “Tell the press the FBI was called in because of similarities to prior Frost killings, and we’re currently investigating all possibilities. If the killer intended for us to believe Frost did this, blasting all over the media that we didn’t buy it will make him hypervigilant. We want him to feel safe enough to make a mistake.”
“I’ll make sure the statement is on the news tonight.” Miller closed his eyes as Madison’s body was secured in the bag. He seemed to be willing his emotions to stay in check. “And when the media asks if you’re personally working the case, I’ll only verify the FBI is assisting.”
Nikki was grateful for Miller’s discretion, but she wasn’t naive enough to believe she could go unnoticed. Her reputation as an FBI agent paled in comparison to her history in Stillwater. But she wasn’t here to open old wounds. She’d returned to Stillwater to find the monster who’d killed these two girls, and she would see it through either way, because finding monsters was her specialty. Everybody knew that.
Two
Taking Highway 96 into town added several minutes to Nikki’s drive, but the road was in far better shape. Nikki marveled at how far west Stillwater had bloated over the past eighteen years. She’d grown up as a rural farm kid, but businesses and homes populated the old fields and marshes she and her friends had once played in.
She took the long route into downtown, driving through the historic district. Nikki had spent the last two years of high school stuck with her great-aunt in one of the grand old Victorian houses. Her childhood self would have passed the days searching for hidden passageways and spirits, but Nikki had lived in a state of numbness back then. Raising her grades in order to get into a good school and get the hell out of Stillwater. Bit by bit, the memories of her life in Stillwater had faded. The call about Madison and Kaylee brought them back in blazing technicolor.
Four blocks from the sheriff’s office and the shiny, new government center, a group carrying picket signs had gathered around the intersection.
Get the DNA tested.
Justice for Mark Todd.
Mark was framed. Get him out now!
Nikki slammed her foot on the brake for the yellow light and glared at the protesters. Most looked around college age and she doubted they were from Stillwater. She dug her fingertips into the steering wheel to keep from rolling down the windows and screaming.
The light turned green, and Nikki hit the gas. She couldn’t think about Mark Todd right now. She had another killer to deal with.
Nikki was aware of the eyes on her as she walked through the sheriff’s station. A gray-haired deputy peered over his cubicle, and a heavily pregnant clerk around Nikki’s age slid her chair back to get a better view.
Nikki followed Miller down the hall, surprised at how anxious she was about seeing Harvey Hardin. The sheriff had been a deputy the night her life imploded. He’d been first on the scene after Nikki had escaped to call 9-1-1, and he’d guided her through various parts of the trial process. He hadn’t known how to comfort her then, and Nikki had probably been a nightmare to deal with.
Miller knocked on the sheriff’s open door. “Are you ready for us, sir?”
“Yes, of course.” His voice was gruffer than Nikki remembered.
She stepped around Miller and barely managed to keep a neutral expression. Harvey Hardin had grown at least two pants sizes since Nikki last saw him. He had always been stout, but he had to be pushing three-hundred-and-fifty pounds. His black hair had turned a pretty shade of silver, but the excess weight in his face gave him a youthful appearance.
He hefted his bulk from the chair. “Nicole, thank you for coming to help us. Have a seat.”
Nikki froze for a moment. She hadn’t been called Nicole since she left Stillwater. She sat down, and Miller took the seat beside her. “I hope my team can help.”
“Your record as an FBI agent is impressive,” Hardin said.
“First-hand experience to the criminal mind helps.” She clutched the warm coffee cup she was holding. Her fingers still hurt from the cold. She’d never had an issue with Hardin, but something about him always set her on edge. As a kid, she’d figured it was her aversion to authority figures. The people who should have protected her and failed.
“You see the protesters?”
“Freedom of speech.”
“Those bleeding hearts at the Innocence Project are absolutely certain we railroaded the guy, and they’re going to help get him out of prison by testing some tiny speck of DNA.” Hardin’s mouth curled in disgust. “You know that’s not true, right?”
Nikki had only learned about the Innocence Project getting involved in Mark Todd’s appeal a few days before Thanksgiving. She’d spoken with the new district attorney, who assured her that his staff was handling the defense’s request. He’d told her to enjoy the holidays and not to worry about it and Nikki had done her best to put it out of her mind and focus on more important things. But she still hadn’t heard when the judge planned to rule on getting the DNA tested, and she wouldn’t have come to Stillwater if she’d known the appeal had become such a hot topic.
She nodded. “I’d rather focus on Madison and Kaylee, if you don’t mind. That’s what I’m here for.”
Hardin’s chair groaned as he leaned back, his meaty jowls making him look like a dangerously overfed bulldog. Nikki worried his uniform buttons might become tiny projectiles at any moment. “I just want you to understand you’re going to get hit with questions, especially if Mark Todd’s younger brother finds out you’re in town.”
“I’m not worried about it,” Nikki said. “I’m only here to do my job.”
Hardin’s meaty hands rested on his stomach. “So, you married? Kids?”
“Divorced. Too busy for kids.”
Sergeant Miller cleared his throat. “The families will be here soon.”
Nikki was thankful for the interruption. “Kaylee and Madison disappeared six weeks ago?”
“Yes. Kaylee was at Madison’s home. It backs up to the woods and a nature trail that’s close to the lake,” Miller said. “Madison texted a friend who lives on the other side of the park to let him know they were coming over and taking the trail. It’s about a ten, fifteen-minute walk. They never showed.”
“Just vanished,” Hardin added. “Madison’s cell phone was turned off, and it’s never come back on again. No GPS. Her phone records don’t show anything suspicious.”
“What about Kaylee’s phone?”
&
nbsp; “She didn’t have one.”
“A teenager without a cell phone? Really?”
“Her mother confiscated it a few weeks before,” Miller explained. “Kaylee was a bit of a handful. Got caught this summer sneaking out and partying with people she had no business being around.”
Hardin smiled and winked at her, but his eyes were flat. He’d busted more than one underaged party Nikki had been attending.
“You didn’t find anything in her phone records? No texts to suspicious people? What about her social media?”
“Kaylee only had a few contacts in her phone: her mom, Madison, her mom’s work. But like the sheriff said, she didn’t have it for three weeks. She only had Instagram, and it was set to private. She deleted all her other accounts last year.”
“I can’t fathom a teenage girl going without a phone for three weeks,” Nikki said. “Did Kaylee have a part-time job?”
“Sort of. She babysat for some of the neighbors,” Miller replied. “Her mom Jessica barely keeps her car running and she works long hours. Kaylee didn’t have a ride to work anywhere else.”
“But she did have cash?”
“Presumably.”
“Then she had a cheap phone somewhere,” Nikki said. “Pay as you go. No way she’s cut off from friends like that.”
“We searched her room,” Miller said.
“She likely had it on her that day.” Nikki would bet a month’s salary on Kaylee having a secret phone. She just hoped Madison wasn’t the only one who knew about it. “Any suspects?”
“No good ones,” Miller confirmed. “Kaylee’s mom had an on-again, off-again boyfriend. He was at work when the girls disappeared, alibied by several people. Miles Hanson, the boy Madison and Kaylee were going to see before they disappeared, has an alibi. His dad was at home with him all day and security footage from Hanson’s front and back door confirmed the girls never showed.”
“What about the parents?” How anyone could harm their own child was beyond Nikki, but the statistics didn’t lie—someone close to the family was usually responsible.