The Girls in the Snow (Nikki Hunt #1) - Stacy Green Page 0,103

of Chippewa Indians, and the tribal police had been called in to search the twenty-thousand-acre reservation.

She checked her texts again. Thankfully, Liam hadn’t blown up her phone while she’d been with Rory. He’d only called once to make sure she was all right. His text an hour ago said he had a warrant for John’s financials and would check in later.

The deputy posted outside Amy’s room said her parents had taken Bailey to get some rest, but they planned to return today. Amy had been in and out of consciousness, refusing any pain medication for her jaw.

Her eyes flashed open as soon as Nikki touched her arm. “You look better than yesterday.”

Amy grabbed her hand and squeezed, tears building in her eyes.

“You’re welcome.” Nikki took the empty seat next to the bed. “He’s a good little boy. And John never intended to hurt him.”

Amy groaned and pointed to her mouth.

“Don’t try to talk.” Nikki opened the notes app on her phone and handed it to her. “I’ll ask questions, you type the answers, unless you can just nod or shake your head for no.” Amy nodded. “Mindy Vance said John used to co-own the cabin with his friends Robert and Larry. Is that true?”

Amy nodded.

“Madison and Kaylee were put in the freezer in the storage shed behind the cabin. We found the nail Madison used to scratch those letters into her arm.”

Tears streamed down Amy’s face.

“I know it’s awful, but she was telling us something important, and it doesn’t make sense for it to refer to the cabin, even if she didn’t know John had bought the other two out. If she was coherent enough to scratch them into her arm, then she knew where she was when she was put into the freezer. Can you think of anyone Madison knew with the initial ‘P’?” Nikki still had no idea what the second initial was meant to be, but she was fairly confident the first one had to be a ‘P.’

Amy shook her head.

“I need to know where the pictures are, Amy. They’re evidence now.”

Amy’s mouth twitched. Told him I burned. But they’re in my safety deposit box. Key code is 2-79-54.

“Madison obviously got her toughness from you.”

That other girl? From the park? John said she wasn’t his type. That he never touched her.

“Do you believe him?”

All girls in pictures were fair skin. White. Change type?

Just like me, Nikki thought. “That’s a good question. When it comes to serial predators, the answer is usually no.”

Forty-Seven

The houses around Liberty Newman Island were just as expensive as the Bankses’, and the land value probably even higher given the popularity of the island. In high school, Liberty Newman Island had been more than make-out central. Nikki had attended more than one party on the island, and she and Annmarie had nearly started a massive fire when they’d snuck out here to smoke pot the summer after sophomore year.

A large foreclosure sign stood in Mindy Vance’s front yard. Boxes were piled high in the minivan parked in the middle of the driveway. The house had a slightly unkempt look compared to its neighbors: the snow needed shoveling and one of the down spouts looked loose. Taking care of such a big place alone had to be difficult, especially when your spouse had died.

“Damn. Poor woman.”

Nikki rang the doorbell. Footsteps tromped near the entryway, as though someone were running down the stairs.

Mindy opened the door, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Agent Hunt. Is everything okay?”

“I just came to let you know Bailey’s fine, but John is on the run. I don’t expect him to come around here, but you should be aware if you haven’t seen it on the news.”

“Oh dear.” Mindy brushed the dust off her pants. “Forgive the way I look. I’m packing. Please, come in.”

The house looked older than the Bankses’, and the fake wood floors and run-of-the-mill trim made Nikki think it probably wasn’t as well made. Most of the living area looked as though it had been packed away. Even the walls were bare, save for the dust lines that surrounded whatever had hung in that spot.

“I’m sorry about your foreclosure.”

“Thank you,” Mindy said. “My husband’s life insurance carrier is contesting the policy. I don’t make nearly enough money to cover the mortgage, so here we are.”

“Why are they contesting?”

“Because they’re greedy assholes,” Mindy said. “Do you have any idea where John might have gone?”

“Actually, I was hoping you might have some ideas. Your husband and John