The Girls in the Snow (Nikki Hunt #1) - Stacy Green Page 0,85
was a mess.” She pointed to the wall where the phone had been. “It had brown, splotchy stains in several places. The wall behind it was fine, so it wasn’t a water leak.”
“Good thing.” Nikki’s throat had gone dry. “Water destroys everything.”
Nikki drove too fast out of the driveway, the jeep sliding into the road. The spot may not have been blood, and even if it were, Mark had come from downstairs. He might have gone into the kitchen to try to clean off. None of this meant he wasn’t the killer.
The crime scene photos had focused on the stairs and bedroom, along with the front door. Nothing of the kitchen or the back hallway. No mention of any type of blood marks downstairs.
“He didn’t get knocked out,” Nikki said to herself. “That’s why there were no prints.”
Or were there simply no pictures of the prints he’d left because Hardin feared they would threaten his slam-dunk case?
Anger swelled in her gut. Tears blurred her vision. “Bastards.” She pounded the steering wheel. “Why can’t this all just go away for good?” She never should have stayed in Stillwater. Her boss would have assigned someone else if she’d asked. But she had to stay and prove to all the people who remembered her as “that girl whose parents were murdered” that she’d turned out fine. Better than fine. She put the worst of humankind away for life.
Nikki let go of the wheel to dry her face, and the tires hit a patch of ice. The jeep skidded to the right, dangerously close to the deep ditch. Nikki overcorrected and careened across the road in front of a fast-approaching white truck. She barely registered Rory’s angry face before he jerked the truck out of her path.
Nikki pumped the brakes, and the vehicle regained traction on a clear patch of pavement. Heart pounding, she pulled onto the shoulder.
Rory’s truck had partially skidded onto the side of the road, and snow flew as the big tires worked their way back onto the pavement.
Please keep going.
He made a U-turn and parked behind her.
She snapped open her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. Rory was already bearing down on her, red-faced.
“Nicole?”
The wind burned her damp face. “I’m sorry. Is your truck damaged?”
“No, but you could have killed us.”
“Why are you out here? Did you follow me?” The tremor in her voice made her want to scream.
He glared at her for a moment, his jaw set hard enough his teeth had to be grinding. “Why would I follow you?”
“How should I know?” she snapped back. “But it sure seems like you show up at the right moment. You’re telling me that’s just coincidence?”
“Nicole, I live in my parents’ old house. I’m on my way home.”
She wanted to sink to the ground from embarrassment. “Well, if there’s damage, I’ll pay for it.”
“What happened to your face?”
She touched the still-sore welt. The swelling had gone down, but the bruising was still prominent around her hairline. “Ran into something.”
“That’s not what it looks like.” He brushed her hair out of the way. “Looks more like something hit you.”
Her throat ached. She knew she needed to get back in her car and try to think.
“Why are you crying?” Rory’s voice had shifted to the same intimate tone he’d used at the bar. It would be so easy to tell him everything.
“It’s nothing. I—”
The anger in his green eyes had been replaced by concern. He gently touched her shoulders. “And shaking?”
She needed to get away from this man before she did something foolish, like throwing herself into his arms. “Well, like you said, I almost killed us.”
“No, this was before that. It made you drive like a lunatic. What’s going on, Nicole?”
Her name rolled off his tongue in a way that made her entire body burn. “I need to go.”
“Not until you’ve calmed down.” Rory’s hands still rested on her shoulders. “The road is too slick to be driving like that. What are you doing out here, anyway?”
“I came to check on Nadine Johnson.” Nikki pressed her lips together, but the words still came out. “And then I stopped by the old house.”
His expression softened. “You shouldn’t have done that. At least not alone.”
“Stop it,” she said, the wind making her voice even more shrill. “Stop being so nice to me. By all rights, you should hate me.”
“I told you, it wasn’t your fault.”
“But how can you say that? How can you look at my face and not be reminded of your