“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 mine,” 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.