Hardin wasn’t an idiot. He’d known the chances of Frost committing these murders were slim. He’d more than likely used the case as a reason to get her back to Stillwater and defer some of Newport’s attention away from him and onto Nikki. “Evidence suggests it isn’t him.”
Hardin nodded. “That was my thinking, but Sergeant Miller thought differently.”
Miller’s face heated. “I agreed with you that we shouldn’t ignore the possibility.”
Nikki resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I believe we’re looking for someone who knew the girls. Not a serial killer. However, as I told Sergeant Miller earlier, if we let the public believe Frost is an option, then the killer might feel safe and make a mistake.”
“Good strategy.” Hardin’s narrow eyes studied her. “You catch serial killers, though, right? If this isn’t Frost, you have no reason to stay.”
Staying likely meant having to deal with Caitlin Newport as well as the scrutiny of Mark Todd’s appeal. Was Nikki really ready for that? Probably not, but she couldn’t walk away now. “That’s not all I do. I’d like to stay and help.”
Miller’s phone buzzed. His face turned ashen. “Madison’s family is here. God, I hate this part.”
So did Nikki. She saw herself in every family member’s face. “I’ll go with you, if you’d like. Sometimes it’s easier if you don’t know the family well.”
Hardin cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Miller. “She doesn’t know?”
“I wasn’t sure how to tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
“Madison’s stepfather is John Banks. He’s raised her since she was little, after her real dad split.”
Nikki’s chest tightened. John Banks had been her first everything, until her parents died and she shut out the world. He was the one she’d been with the night her parents had been murdered. She hadn’t seen him in years, and his face would be a stark reminder of the things she’d run away from.
Three
“I meant to mention it earlier,” Miller said as soon as they left Hardin’s office. “I hope it doesn’t stop you from helping us out.”
Nikki walked briskly down the hall, her composure already in hand. Like every other damned thing about Stillwater, her and John’s relationship was in the past. “It’s okay. You don’t mind my coming with you?”
“Not at all.” Miller glanced at her sheepishly. “This is bad timing, but I guess you don’t remember me.”
She stopped and stared at him, mentally running through her admittedly sparse memories of high school. “Should I?”
“I was a couple of years behind you in school. I remember how crazy things were after that night.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ve forgotten a lot of stuff from high school.”
They walked to the family area in awkward silence. Nikki sifted through her memories, trying to place Miller. He was several inches taller than her, in good shape. She’d spotted a pair of running shoes in the back of his car.
“Wait. Kenny Miller who broke the school’s single-season rushing yards record?”
Miller grinned. “That’s me.” He glanced at the closed door. “Thanks again for coming with me. Just to warn you, Madison’s mother has gotten more aggressive since the case went cold. That’s why I ended up telling them over the phone that we’d found the girls instead of waiting until they got here. She wouldn’t accept anything else. She’s grieving, so I try to give her the benefit of the doubt. But she can be pretty blunt. Just don’t take it personal.”
“It’s likely easier for her to channel her grief into anger,” Nikki said. “And I’ve got pretty thick skin, so don’t worry about me.”
The door flew open before Miller could reach for it, and John Banks filled the space. Nikki had forgotten how John towered over most people. His height had been one of the things that made him so successful in track.
“John, I’m so sorry,” Miller said.
“You’re certain it’s our daughter?” Amy Banks looked like the perfect Stepford wife, right down to the manicured nails and blond hair. She hovered behind John, her arms wrapped around her petite frame. The fierceness in her eyes was every bit as intimidating as John’s stature. He stared down at Nikki, his expression a mixture of pain and confusion. “That’s why the FBI’s been called in, isn’t it?”
Sergeant Miller nodded. “You’ll need to make official identifications, but yes, I’m certain it’s Madison. I’ve seen her body myself. Kaylee’s too.”
Amy stepped back as though she’d been slapped. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “It can’t be her.”
“I’m sorry, Amy.” Miller’s soft voice seemed to shatter the last of her resolve.
“Excuse me.” Amy bolted from the room, her sobs echoing down the hall.
“Give her a minute.” John sat down. He still looked lean and fit, his blond hair flecked with gray. Diamond cufflinks decorated his designer shirt. John stared at the table, lost in his grief.
“I’m sorry for your loss, John.”
He looked at her with bleary eyes. “It really is you, isn’t it? I thought I was going crazy.”
“Yes, it’s me.” Nikki down sat across from him, the tragic irony of the moment nearly rendering her speechless. Twenty years ago, their roles had been reversed. Almost. The idea of burying your child was unfathomable. John clearly thought of Madison as his own.
“It’s just not real. I know it’s been weeks, but I still had this hope that she would come home. Who would do this?”
“The worst kind of monster,” Nikki said. “I know this is extremely difficult, but can I ask you a few questions?”
He nodded. “I’m not sure what else I can tell you that the sergeant hasn’t already asked.”
“How long had the girls been friends?”
“Just a few months.” John cleared his throat. “They played volleyball together, until Kaylee was kicked off the team for fighting.”
“This is all Kaylee’s fault.” Amy Banks had returned, her grief weaponized into rage. “That girl barely had any adult supervision. I told Madison to stay away from her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
John took his wife’s hand. “Kaylee wasn’t a bad kid. Her mom worked all the time, so she was on her own a lot. She spent a lot of time at our house.”
Amy’s mouth tightened. “Not because I wanted her to.”
Nikki hadn’t missed the angry glances Amy gave to John every time she said Kaylee’s name. She blamed Kaylee for her daughter’s death, but he didn’t seem to share her sentiments. Perhaps that had driven a wedge between them.
“Kaylee’s mother’s on her way,” Sergeant Miller said.
John looked at Nikki. “I’ve followed your career with the FBI. Maddie, too. She was fascinated by the killer from the Ivy League schools. She wanted to go into criminal justice and when she found out I’d known you in high school, she begged me to email you so she could talk to you as part of her project for career day. I kept putting it off.” John’s mouth trembled and his hands fisted on the table. “Now you’re investigating her murder.”