by Stacy Green
“Something like that. I’m working on the murders in town.”
“Just awful.” Nadine’s voice trembled. “Awful there are people in this world who do such things.”
“It is. Which make my job even more important.”
“You wanted to be a teacher,” Nadine said. “Or a social worker.”
“That was before,” Nikki replied and she didn’t need to say any more. “Did you see the article in the paper about me?”
Nadine waved her bony hand. “It’s disgusting what these journalists can say nowadays.”
“That’s kind of why I’m here,” Nikki said. “I haven’t thought about that night for so long, and people are asking me to remember it all over again. Everyone’s telling me different things, and I’m second-guessing my own memories.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because Hardin knew I’d been drinking. He says he just did a field sobriety test, but I swear a paramedic took blood for a tox test. Hardin says I was just getting fluids.”
“You were definitely dehydrated,” Nadine said. “You reeked of alcohol. But I watched you pass the sobriety test. And then they took you to the ambulance for fluids.”
“So I am just imagining things?”
“Not at all,” Nadine said. “You were in such shock, and I didn’t want to let you out of my sight. I watched your blood being drawn.”
“Where was Hardin?” Relief washed over Nikki, but a new sense of dread settled over her. The tox report had definitely gone missing.
“That I don’t remember. You were my sole focus. And as for your own memories, you had a traumatic experience most people can’t even fathom. Of course your memories are jumbled. Why are you being so hard on yourself?”
It had taken years for Nikki to process her mother’s death. To stop wishing her mother was there for a crisis. But being back in Nadine’s house reminded her that Nadine had been her mother’s friend. They should be growing old together, harassing Nikki about seeing Lacey and having more grandchildren, while her father puttered around the farm looking for a hobby.
Nikki put her head in her hands. “I’ve worked so hard to make the past stay in the past. Now it’s like I can’t get away from it.”
“You can’t escape the past,” Nadine said. “Especially your childhood. Good or bad, those experiences shape who you grow up to be. Your past is tragic, so you gravitated towards justice. I’m not surprised you’re a profiler. You were always so observant. You picked out little details about things no one else noticed.”
Nikki wiped her eyes. “The last time I cried was when I had my daughter.”
“You have a little girl?” Her face lit up.
“Lacey. She’s five. I haven’t told anyone here about her.” She found her favorite picture of Lacey on her phone. It had been taken last fall, when Nikki had been raking leaves and Lacey made the giant pile her sandbox.
“She’s beautiful.” Nadine smiled. “She has your hair and eyes.”
“Her father is blond and fair-skinned. We’re divorced. But friends. Totally amicable.”
“Good,” Nadine said. “That’s all that matters for your daughter.”
“He’s an agent.” Nikki hesitated, trying to think of the right way to explain the reason for her visit. She didn’t want to give Nadine the impression that Hardin mishandled the case, but she had to ask about her statement. “I finally looked at their case file last night. I tried to look at it from a cop’s point of view.”
“How did that go?”
“Not well, but I did see some things that didn’t make sense,” Nikki said. “The reason I asked about the blood test is because there’s no record of it in the file. And some forensic details don’t add up. Then there’s your statement.”
Nadine tapped her fingers on the chair arm. “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do?”
“I told Hardin that a loud engine woke me up,” Nadine said. “The weather was so nice, and my bedroom window faces the road. I was certain it was a muscle car, because my dad and brothers were all muscle car fanatics. I tagged along to car shows more times than I can remember. I know what they sound like. But Hardin chided me. He said there was no way I could tell if it was a muscle car or just a truck missing a muffler. I wanted to smack some sense into him, and he knew it. Then he starts blabbing about the road being far enough away that no one would be able to tell the difference.”
“That’s not true.” She paused, then, “I knew someone who drove a ’68 Shelby Mustang.”
“I know you did,” Nadine said evenly. “And so did Hardin. But he dismissed the idea.”
The implication made Nikki dizzy. “But Mark was in my parents’ house.”
“And John Banks wasn’t the only person with a loud car,” Nadine said. “But considering the two of you were dating, why wouldn’t Hardin take me seriously? Not to mention the other deputy suddenly transferring.”
“Who?”
“Deputy Anderson took the samples. I believe he had special training. He transferred to another county several months after the trial. One of my gals at the salon worked at the sheriff’s office, and she said Anderson didn’t like how things were being run and wanted out. He and Hardin clashed over your parents’ case.”
“Hardin never looked at anyone other than Mark,” Nikki replied. “Did you know about Mark and Hardin’s wife?”
Nadine sat her coffee on the side table. “I’d heard rumors that summer. Mark’s mother came in regularly, and she was upset at times. I heard she tried to confront him and he denied it, but everyone I spoke to was certain he was lying. Hardin had a temper, according to some people in his inner circle,” Nadine said. “They said he was vindictive. Do you think this was some kind of revenge against Mark?”
Nikki chose her words carefully. “I think Hardin lacked the capacity to be objective about Mark. Deputy Anderson never should have been overruled. Have you spoken to anyone on Mark’s defense team at the Innocence Project?”
“They came to see me a few weeks ago,” Nadine said. “I told them everything I just told you. I should have tried to reach you, but it didn’t seem like it was my place. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, that’s fine. I just wanted to make sure they were aware.” Nikki should have let the district attorney give her the details before she stormed out of his office the other day. No wonder Roger Mathews had doubts about retrying the case. “I should get going.”
“How long are you in town?” Nadine asked.
“Until I solve the murders,” Nikki replied.
Nadine paled and hugged her. “Oh, good Lord. The horrors you see, Nicole. Please stay in touch. It’s lonely out here. Maybe you could bring your girl around, when this is all over?”
“I will,” Nikki said, and she hoped she meant it. “Nadine, if Mark is innocent, do you think… do you think John could have done this?”
“Sweetheart, that question has haunted me for years.” Tears built in Nadine’s eyes. “I hope you can figure out the answer so your parents can finally rest in peace.”
Thirty-Three
Nikki followed the winding drive to the farmhouse where she grew up, her heartbeat accelerating. She remembered how her father was forever complaining about Nikki’s friends driving in the grass when they made the loop in front of the house. The driveway was gravel now, instead of dirt, and a couple of new trees provided shade in the front yard, but the willow tree Nikki played under still dominated the landscape. The farmhouse had new siding, windows, and shutters. The old barn was gone, replaced by a hibernating vegetable garden.
She left the jeep running and slowly crossed the yard, following the same path she’d taken that night. She remembered how badly her legs had wanted to give out, how she’d taken the porch steps one at a time. How the door had stood open, with glass everywhere.
“Can I help you?” A young woman with a baby on her hip stood in the doorway.
“I used to live here
,” Nikki said. “A long time ago. Sorry to bother you.”
Her eyebrows knitted together. “Are you the girl whose parents were killed?”
That’s exactly who she was, no matter how hard she tried to pretend. “My name is Nicole.”
The woman bounced the fussing baby. “Did you want to come in or something?”
The cop in Nikki surfaced. “You should never invite a stranger in the house, even a woman.”
“Aren’t you with the FBI?”
Right. Everyone knew she was in town. “You don’t mind?”
“I have to put him down for his nap, but if it’s something you need to do…” She held the door open. “I’ll leave you alone.”
Nikki’s feet suddenly felt filled with lead. Could she really do this? The young mother headed down the hall into the kitchen. The strawberry wallpaper her mother had so painstakingly hung had been replaced by cheery yellow paint. The vinyl flooring in the hall was gone, too. Engineered hardwood had taken its place. Her father had laid the vinyl himself, cutting his hand during the process. He told everyone he’d bled for the house and then proudly showed his scar. The irony almost made Nikki bolt for her jeep, but she forced her legs to move.
Nikki walked by the living room; the fireplace looked the same. Even the wooden mantle remained.
A few more feet, and then the stairs on her left. The hallway led into the kitchen, where the phone had hung on the right wall, next to the dining room doorway.
Mark’s version of events had him going downstairs, probably still woozy, in search of a phone, in a dark, unfamiliar place. He’d tried to save her mother and ended up with her blood on his shirt. What about his hands? Nikki didn’t remember seeing a photograph of blood streaks on the wall, but if Mark had really had his bell rung, she’d expect him to need help staying steady.
If his head had been bleeding, did anyone look for a blood trail other than the footprints he’d left after stepping in her mother’s blood? If Mark had bled onto the wood floor, it was possible the blood stain had set into the wood. If it had, the stain might still be visible.
The kitchen flooring had been the house’s original hardwood. Her father applied fresh stain every few years, declaring this was the last time and they were covering it with vinyl. It never happened, but someone had finally upgraded the flooring to tile.
There was different carpet on the stairs. Plush, not the tightly woven Berber she remembered. Thirteen steps; the fifth, sixth and seventh still squeaked.
Nikki scrubbed the tears off her cheeks and kept walking. Her parents’ old bedroom had been completely redone, and the bed was on the other side of the room. Nikki waited for the memories to bombard her, but she remained numb.
Her room at the end of the hall was now a nursery. A changing table sat in the spot where her father’s body had lain.
Nikki’s throat tightened. Everything had changed, the time her family spent in the house wiped out, as though the Walsh family never existed.
She went back downstairs and found the homeowner in the kitchen. “Thank you for letting me come inside.”
“No problem.”
The phone no longer hung on the wall, and a portable island countertop sat against the back wall. Like the hallway, the kitchen floors had been replaced by engineered hardwood. “This is nice work.”
“Thanks. My husband has done most of the upgrades. The old oak trim doesn’t match. He was supposed to replace that in the summer. You know how men are.”
Could it actually be the same trim from twenty years ago? Her own house was fifteen years old, and the trim had only been treated, never replaced. Nikki knelt in the corner where the phone had been. The trim was definitely old, but clean.
“I like the yellow paint,” Nikki said. “Very cheery. My mother had strawberry wallpaper. It was expensive at the time.”
“It was still here when we moved in a few years ago,” the woman said. “The house had been pretty neglected. I liked the wallpaper, but it was in bad shape. Some of it had peeled off in places, and that wall in particular was a mess.” She pointed to the wall where the phone had been. “It had brown, splotchy stains in several places. The wall behind it was fine, so it wasn’t a water leak.”
“Good thing.” Nikki’s throat had gone dry. “Water destroys everything.”
Nikki drove too fast out of the driveway, the jeep sliding into the road. The spot may not have been blood, and even if it were, Mark had come from downstairs. He might have gone into the kitchen to try to clean off. None of this meant he wasn’t the killer.
The crime scene photos had focused on the stairs and bedroom, along with the front door. Nothing of the kitchen or the back hallway. No mention of any type of blood marks downstairs.
“He didn’t get knocked out,” Nikki said to herself. “That’s why there were no prints.”
Or were there simply no pictures of the prints he’d left because Hardin feared they would threaten his slam-dunk case?
Anger swelled in her gut. Tears blurred her vision. “Bastards.” She pounded the steering wheel. “Why can’t this all just go away for good?” She never should have stayed in Stillwater. Her boss would have assigned someone else if she’d asked. But she had to stay and prove to all the people who remembered her as “that girl whose parents were murdered” that she’d turned out fine. Better than fine. She put the worst of humankind away for life.
Nikki let go of the wheel to dry her face, and the tires hit a patch of ice. The jeep skidded to the right, dangerously close to the deep ditch. Nikki overcorrected and careened across the road in front of a fast-approaching white truck. She barely registered Rory’s angry face before he jerked the truck out of her path.
Nikki pumped the brakes, and the vehicle regained traction on a clear patch of pavement. Heart pounding, she pulled onto the shoulder.
Rory’s truck had partially skidded onto the side of the road, and snow flew as the big tires worked their way back onto the pavement.
Please keep going.
He made a U-turn and parked behind her.
She snapped open her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. Rory was already bearing down on her, red-faced.
“Nicole?”
The wind burned her damp face. “I’m sorry. Is your truck damaged?”
“No, but you could have killed us.”
“Why are you out here? Did you follow me?” The tremor in her voice made her want to scream.
He glared at her for a moment, his jaw set hard enough his teeth had to be grinding. “Why would I follow you?”
“How should I know?” she snapped back. “But it sure seems like you show up at the right moment. You’re telling me that’s just coincidence?”
“Nicole, I live in my parents’ old house. I’m on my way home.”
She wanted to sink to the ground from embarrassment. “Well, if there’s damage, I’ll pay for it.”
“What happened to your face?”
She touched the still-sore welt. The swelling had gone down, but the bruising was still prominent around her hairline. “Ran into something.”
“That’s not what it looks like.” He brushed her hair out of the way. “Looks more like something hit you.”
Her throat ached. She knew she needed to get back in her car and try to think.
“Why are you crying?” Rory’s voice had shifted to the same intimate tone he’d used at the bar. It would be so easy to tell him everything.
“It’s nothing. I—”
The anger in his green eyes had been replaced by concern. He gently touched her shoulders. “And shaking?”
She needed to get away from this man before she did something foolish, like throwing herself into his arms. “Well, like you said, I almost killed us.”
“No, this was before that. It made you drive like a lunatic. What’s going on, Nicole?”
Her name rolled off his tongue in a way that made her entire body burn. “I need to go.”
“Not until you’ve calmed down.
” Rory’s hands still rested on her shoulders. “The road is too slick to be driving like that. What are you doing out here, anyway?”
“I came to check on Nadine Johnson.” Nikki pressed her lips together, but the words still came out. “And then I stopped by the old house.”
His expression softened. “You shouldn’t have done that. At least not alone.”
“Stop it,” she said, the wind making her voice even more shrill. “Stop being so nice to me. By all rights, you should hate me.”
“I told you, it wasn’t your fault.”
“But how can you say that? How can you look at my face and not be reminded of your brother and what happened? Just seeing me should upset you.”
Rory was silent for a moment. “By that logic, you should feel the same way about me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You think Mark killed your family. I’m his little brother trying to prove he didn’t. Why doesn’t the sight of me upset you?”
“How do you know it doesn’t?”
He moved closer, his hands sliding from her shoulders to her neck. A couple of curls peeked out from his cap. His pink lips parted, and then his gaze flashed down to meet hers. He grabbed the zipper of her parka and slowly closed it all the way to her chin. He put his hands in his pockets. “Did you look at the case files yet?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think?” he asked softly.
“I think that I want to see those DNA results.”
Thirty-Four
Nikki glanced at her tired colleagues sitting around the conference room table. After her run-in with Rory, she’d rejoined her team at the government center. Two hours later, they were still going back and forth over various scenarios. “Madison’s injuries indicate she may have been the main target and killing her was personal.”
“If she knows anything, Amy’s protecting him,” Miller said. “When I spoke to her earlier, she insisted John was home the night Janelle was murdered. She also said she had no idea what Brianna was talking about. She never saw pictures of any sort.”