by Stacy Green
Courtney nodded. “I’m good to go. I’ve been going through Madison’s social media accounts, trying to come up with something. But so far, she’s the typical teenager.”
“Look for pictures of Kaylee in Madison’s social media, too. And let’s interview their friends again. Liam, I think Kaylee had a phone. She didn’t have a lot of pocket money, so likely a pre-paid phone. Madison’s phone has been off, but is there any way the cell companies could pinpoint a connection from a pre-paid phone during the time the girls were supposed to be walking to the Hansons’ house?”
“I’m not sure without the number. We don’t even know what carrier she might have had. And if it’s pre-paid, the text messages are long gone. Most carriers don’t keep records for pre-paid calls.”
“I know it’s a long shot,” Nikki said, “but I need you to visit the Stillwater carriers who provide pre-paid services. You’ll be able to work up a list easily enough. Take Kaylee’s picture around, see if someone happens to remember her. We’ll need a warrant to contact the carriers about pings, and if you can find an employee who remembers her—or a manager who’s willing to go through old security footage—we might be able to get records.”
“I’ll do my best. That’s probably going to be several locations, so it might take a couple of days to get the right contact at all of them.”
“That’s fine. I know you’ll be as efficient as possible. And let’s begin searching for places with industrial freezers—what sort of places could have held Madison and Kaylee’s bodies, and who had access to those places?” Nikki looked at Miller. “Did you find out where Ricky’s working this morning?”
“New construction by the lake,” Miller said. “I can drive, if you’d like.”
“That works for me.” Nikki preferred her own vehicle, but Miller’s cruiser offered an extra layer of protection against Newport.
Nikki sighed with relief as Miller exited the parking lot. There was no sign of the protesters or Newport. “Thanks for the ride,” she said.
“Just made sense,” Miller replied.
“It does, but I appreciate the buffer if that woman shows up.”
“I had no idea she was doing a documentary on your parents,” Miller said. “I bet money she’s brought in the protesters. They’re probably paid.”
“She’s got Mark’s family believing he has a chance at being exonerated. You think she cares about them?”
“She does as long as they’re useful,” Miller said. “If she shows up at this construction site, someone’s leaking information. I can’t believe she’s doing this when we’re trying to find out who murdered those kids.”
Nikki bit her lip, trying to think of the right thing to say. Local police often had issue with the FBI coming in and taking over, but Miller seemed to be just the opposite, and Nikki suspected that had to do with his guilt over not finding Madison and Kaylee. “I’ve gone through the case file twice. You did everything you could.”
“It wasn’t enough.” Miller sighed.
“Sometimes it isn’t,” Nikki said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re to blame. The sad truth is that we can’t save them all, especially when it comes to missing kids. You know the statistics as well as I do.”
An awkward silence fell between them.
Nikki started to ask about turning the radio on when she noticed the pictures. “Are those your daughters?”
Two wallet-sized school pictures of grinning, gap-toothed girls were taped to Miller’s radio.
“Yep. Six and nine. It’s all estrogen in my house.”
“That’s going to be rough in a few years.”
“I don’t even want to think about it. The little one’s boy-crazy, too. She kissed some boy at recess last week. My wife thought it was hilarious.”
“I think I kissed a boy on the playground in kindergarten.” Nikki blocked out the unpleasant image of Lacey doing the same.
“Hell, I kissed three or four girls by first grade,” he said. “But when it’s my little girl, nah. That ain’t happening.”
Nikki laughed, and Miller joined her.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I told her that’s how a person gets really sick and ends up missing a bunch of school.”
“Did that work?”
“For now,” he said.
Nikki’s laughter died in her throat. A large, white canvas had been mounted onto the side of a dilapidated barn. “Free Mark Todd” sprawled across the sign, the red spray paint a vibrant shock of color against the winter landscape.
“You okay?”
“I have to be,” Nikki said, composing herself. She thought about Rory’s insistence that his brother was innocent and wondered if he’d painted the sign. “What do you know about Mark’s younger brother?”
“Rory? Not much, which means he stays out of trouble.”
“I ran into him at the gas station yesterday.” Nikki recounted last night’s embarrassing events. “He was far nicer to me than most people would have been.”
“He’s grown up in the shadow of his brother’s case, seeing his parents spend their lives trying to free Mark. You’d think it would have made him bitter, but he doesn’t have that in him.”
“How are his parents?” Nikki remembered Mrs. Todd as petite and friendly. She’d enjoyed Mark having his friends over. Mr. Todd had been reserved and usually kept to himself, but they’d always seemed like a close family.
Miller shifted in the seat. “Far as I know, they’re fine. They moved to an apartment in town a few years ago. I heard Rory bought the house.”
Nikki flushed, trying not to think of how good it had felt to lean on Rory’s chest and breathe in his scent. She rarely allowed herself to think like this, to be so vulnerable, even with Tyler during their best times. He was good and kind, dependable. Nikki could always count on him to be there for her, but she’d never experienced the sparks other couples described. Nikki had always assumed she lacked the ability to truly connect with anyone. She’d trusted Tyler enough to tell him the details about the night her parents were murdered, but she hadn’t been able to let her emotional guard down. He’d pressed her to tell him how she felt and what she was going through, but Nikki could never manage it. It wasn’t his fault, but Tyler couldn’t possibly understand.
But there was something different about Rory. They had both experienced the same thing, albeit from different sides. They’d both been living under a media microscope after the murders, they both understood what it was like to have their family torn apart. No matter how hard he tried, Tyler would never be able to understand what that had been like.
“There’s another thing I wanted to mention,” Miller said. “I would have brought it up back at the office, but you’d just dealt with Newport.”
“What is it?”
“Ricky Fillinger works for Rory Todd.”
Eleven
Ricky had been a football star during Nikki’s first two years in high school. His speed made him one of the fastest running backs in their conference, and he’d gone on to play at a community college until the knee injury ended his football career. The school rumor mill had claimed Ricky kept a list of all his sexual encounters. Nikki had been warned to steer clear of him when she was younger, and it seemed perhaps that times hadn’t changed.
A man in heavy work overalls looked up from the half-built deck of yet another cookie-cutter condo. He looked warily at them, and Nikki wondered if he was well-versed in dealing with cops. Ricky was the epitome of small-town athletic hero gone to seed: thirty pounds heavier but somehow appeared more solid than flabby. His sandy blond hair had receded a good inch from his forehead, and his ruddy skin was damaged from the sun.
“Hey, Ricky, you got a minute?” Miller asked.
Ricky stuck his hammer in his belt and puffed his chest. “Not really.”
“We have some questions about Kaylee—”
“I already answered those.” If Ricky was grieving Kaylee’s death, he hid it well.
“Not mi
ne,” Nikki said.
“Who are you?”
“Special Agent Nikki Hunt with the FBI.”
Ricky grunted and finally hopped off the deck. He still had the piercing blue eyes Nikki and every other girl in school had swooned over. “Rory Todd’s my boss. He hired me even though I’ve got a record,” Ricky said. “That don’t happen very often.”
“Very kind of him,” Nikki said. “Your employment isn’t the reason for our visit.”
“He’s supposed to be here this morning.” Ricky grinned. “I know who you are. You sure you want to be around when he shows up?”
“I’ve already spoken with Rory, actually. I’m here to talk to you.”
Ricky looked her up and down, his lips curled into a hateful smirk. “I read that article. How soon you think it’ll be before the Todd family is suing the county and maybe even you? Like I said, I got nothing to say.”
Nikki resisted the urge to unzip her coat and make sure he knew she was the one carrying a gun and badge. She’d dealt with dozens of Rickys, and almost all of them used misogyny to mask their own insecurities. They weren’t used to women calling their bluff and wound up running away with their tails between their legs. “Did Kaylee ask you for money after she found out about the deal you and her mom made?”
Ricky’s jaw tightened. “What are you talking about?”
“Jessica told us about blackmailing you for painkillers,” Nikki said. “Did Kaylee try to do the same thing?”
“You’re delusional.”
“Okay,” Nikki said. “So, you don’t mind if I search your truck then?”
“You don’t have a warrant.”
“I actually do.” Nikki held up the warrant. “Judge’s signature is still drying. See the blue vehicle behind Sergeant Miller’s? That’s a senior FBI crime scene specialist. She’ll be conducting the search. If she finds anything, we’ll have the truck impounded and dig deeper.”
“You’re not going to find anything.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“If you went to Kaylee’s house, we’ll see you on the neighbor’s security footage,” Nikki said.
“I didn’t.”
“You met Jessica the day the girls went missing,” Miller said.
“And I was there for over an hour. Then clocked in at work. Alibied, so back off.”
Nikki closed the distance between them. “Was Kaylee alone when you saw her?”
Ricky gritted his teeth.
“My instincts tell me you’ve been selling prescription drugs on job sites. It’s hard to imagine you only sold them to Jessica. But I’m not really interested in that, I’m trying to find a murderer and I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this guy won’t haul me in if I talk?” Ricky pointed to Miller.
“He’s more concerned about finding a killer.” Nikki played her trump card. “I, however, will call your parole officer if you don’t answer my questions. He’ll look at your phone, and they’ll find out all of your dirty secrets.”
“You were a cold bitch in high school and you’re still one.” Ricky crossed his thick arms over his chest. “She showed up at my job site a few days before she disappeared. Gave me the same spiel her mother did. But I told her I wasn’t giving her money for whatever she was trying to buy.”
Nikki had a hard time imagining Ricky as the type to care about Kaylee’s well-being.
“You’re lying,” Nikki said. “She left here with something. Either you tell me what it was, or I call your parole officer.”
Ricky looked more nervous than ever, and Nikki could tell she was getting somewhere. “I gave her fifty bucks, okay? Jessica barely makes ends meet and Kaylee’s phone was going to get shut off. She didn’t need to be going around without a cell phone—” Ricky drew an unsteady breath. He ducked his head and rubbed his eyes. “I thought her phone would protect her. Did she suffer?” Ricky asked.
“We won’t know anything until after the autopsy.” Nikki softened her tone. The sadness in his voice was real. He’d actually tried to look out for her. “How did Kaylee get to your job site that day?”
“Some guy in a van.”
“You get a look at him?”
Ricky shook his head.
“License plate?”
“Wasn’t paying attention. It was a plain grey minivan and had a Stillwater High School bumper sticker.”
“You’re certain?” Miller asked.
“Yep. Got no more to say.”
“Don’t leave town,” Nikki said.
Ricky huffed and disappeared into the half-built house.
“Drew Hanson drives a grey minivan with that bumper sticker,” Miller said. “His father-in-law owns Grinnell Farms. They raise cattle and pigs for farm to table.”
“Industrial freezer access?” Nikki said.
“I would assume so. They slaughter their own animals and sell the meat locally to grocery stores. And farmers’ markets during the summer.”
“You think we could find a judge to sign a warrant to search?”
“No way,” Miller said. “No judge is going to piss off a business like Grinnell Farms without strong evidence. Hanson doesn’t work at the farm, and he says he was home all evening with Miles.”
“Kaylee was a little taller, so from head to toe curled up and secured with the rope, she measured forty-two inches. Assuming they were put in a chest freezer, we’re looking for at least eight cubic feet.”
“That’s some fast math.”
“Can’t take credit for it. Liam’s the math whiz.” Nikki was already headed back to the car. “We already planned to stop at the high school to talk to the girls’ friends. We can pay Hanson a visit, too. Pulling him out of his class will catch him totally off guard. He’ll want to answer our questions and get us out of there as soon as possible. And if he’s got a chest freezer, I want it torn apart. We need—” The words died in her throat as a truck stopped next to Miller’s car, blocking the drive, and Rory Todd’s angry gaze locked on Nikki.
Twelve
Rory shoved open the truck door and stalked towards them, his heavy boots smacking against the hardened snow. His heavy work pants were covered in dried paint, and he hadn’t bothered to put a coat on over his hooded sweatshirt. His blazing green eyes locked on Nikki, and she wasn’t sure if the adrenaline pumping through her veins was driven by the anxiety of dealing with him or the thrill of seeing him again. “What’s going on?”
“We had questions for your employee regarding Kaylee Thomas.”
“He’s already been alibied,” Rory snapped. “Just because he’s an ex-con doesn’t mean he’s a suspect.”
“Thank you so much for clarifying that. A decade in law enforcement has taught me nothing.”
“You’ve been wrong before.”
Nikki’s patience ran out. “I have a warrant to search Ricky’s vehicle. He’s under suspicion of dealing prescription drugs on your property. And I’m interviewing him in relation to the murders of Kaylee Thomas and Madison Banks.”
Rory flinched and looked at Ricky, who’d come back outside. “Is that true?”
Ricky still hadn’t confirmed that he’d had other customers come to sites to pick up from him, but Nikki could read the truth all over his face.
Nikki pointed to the rusting pickup truck next to the house. “Ricky, is that yours?”
“Why?” Rory asked.
Nikki waved at Courtney and gave her a thumbs up. “I told you, my CSI is going to search for physical evidence tying you to Kaylee. So if she was in your truck for any reason, you’d better tell me now.”
“Girl was never in my truck.”
“Ricky, get back to work,” Rory said. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Ricky disappeared again, tail between his legs. Nikki was fairly certain he was telling the truth, but she needed to be sure. Ricky’s truck had to be searched.
“A judge seriously signed that?” Rory said. “With no probable cause?
”
Nikki resisted the urge to tell him to lay off the true crime shows. She’d dealt with more than one jury expecting to see forensic tricks that didn’t even exist. Armchair detectives turned up in every high-profile murder investigation, usually wasting precious time. “We had probable cause and we’re talking about the murders of two teenaged girls.”
“I’m the one who got the search warrant, and it’s absolutely necessary,” Miller added. “Ricky didn’t tell us everything before. He’s a suspect.”
“In other words, you need to back off,” Nikki said. “Unless you want to be charged with harassing an officer.”
“Fine,” Rory said. He glanced at Miller and then back to Nikki. “Can we talk privately?”
“About what?” Anxiety rippled through Nikki. She didn’t want to have a private conversation with Rory. Too many of her worst memories had already been dredged up. “I’m working.”
“It will just take—”
“Look,” she burst out. “I can’t say this enough: I’m here to find out who killed two innocent girls. I can’t do that with you breathing down my neck about Mark.”
“I know why you’re here. I’m just asking for a few minutes.”
Why did he have to do this with an audience?
Ricky peered out of the framed-out window, and Miller hovered between the house and Rory, scratching his head.
