“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 their 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?”