The Girls in the Snow (Nikki Hunt #1) - Stacy Green Page 0,12
want to be around that if I were you.”
Nikki forced her best fake smile. “Don’t worry about me. The past will stay where it belongs. I’m here to find out what happened to those girls.”
Four
Blowing snow made Nikki’s drive home take twice as long. She’d blasted the radio in a futile effort not to think about the past. Long-buried memories seemed to pop out of nowhere. The sound of the floorboards creaking came into her head. That sound had saved Nikki’s life, and she’d never forget it. Hiding in the closet, sweat soaking her shirt, she’d trembled with fear as the footsteps came into the room. Then he’d whispered her name, and fear turned to rage. How could he do this to her family?
She blinked back the tears. The thought of Mark Todd convincing anyone that he was innocent, much less a group of people who were willing to spend their time and energy fighting for him, burned a hole in her gut. He’d sat silently during the trial all those years ago, refusing to look at Nikki. She’d wanted to grab him and make him look at her, make him see what he’d done to her. He’d known her family for years, their family farms bordered each other’s: they’d play in her family’s cornfields as kids, running through the mazes, sweat pouring down their backs, laughing. The first two years of high school, she and Mark had even run in the same social circle—until Nikki met John.
Looking back, Nikki could see that she’d dropped everything for John. At sixteen, he’d been her first love. He was athletic, handsome, and a junior at Bethel University. He’d made Nikki feel special and wanted—for the first time in her life. But her parents had believed the four-year age difference was too much and when they found out—caught him picking her up one evening at the top of the field by the house—they’d forbidden her to see him. And for the first time in her life, Nikki rebelled. She snuck out to meet John a few days later, half-expecting to get caught. But she hadn’t, and the rush that came with getting away with it was intoxicating.
Nikki had always been close to her parents, and growing up an only child meant she was often spoiled and doted on. Her mother was stricter than her father, who hated to tell her no. He was always the peacemaker between Nikki and her mother, and Nikki had always been able to nag him into allowing her to do whatever she wanted. But he’d sided with her mother about John, and Nikki had been furious. She barely talked to her father when he came in from the fields for dinner, and hurting his feelings felt justified.
The night of the murders, Nikki had said something rude to her father, and he’d snapped, calling her a spoiled brat. Her mother had sent Nikki upstairs with a warning not to come back down until morning. The two of them were sick of her bad attitude.
What she wouldn’t give to turn back the clock and change that last conversation and wipe out the memories of their hurt faces and the tears welling in her father’s eyes.
A single decision had altered the course of Nikki’s life. She’d snuck out after her parents had gone to bed, longing to see John. She’d hopped into his waiting car without a shred of guilt, unaware she’d seen her parents for the last time. If she’d just stayed home, she knew they’d still be here.
Nikki wondered if Kaylee and Madison had been sneaking around with the wrong people too. Stranger abduction was rare, especially with two victims and, statistically, Nikki still had to consider the parents as suspects. Amy’s anger with John might be solely grief-driven—the last couple of months would have taken their toll on their relationship, as they waited each day desperate for news, blaming one another for Madison’s disappearance—but the fire in Amy’s eyes when John defended Kaylee hadn’t looked like grief.
Nikki turned onto her street and groaned. She lived in one of St. Paul’s quiet suburbs, full of perfect family units. Highland Park was only about thirty miles from Stillwater, but it was busier, and that made it seem worlds away from the sleepy area she’d once called home. She preferred it, being closer to the city, even if the city plows always left her street until last. Thankfully her jeep breezed through the drifting snow.