Page 4 of The Girls in the Snow

Liam had joined the unit fresh from the FBI academy a year ago. His tall, lean frame and red hair earned him plenty of teasing, but he’d taken it all in his stride. His patience and attention to detail, along with his instincts, made him a valuable asset to the small criminal profiling unit.

“Where’s Court?” The elements had likely destroyed any chance of finding good trace evidence, but she’d worked with Courtney Hart long enough to know she could find a needle in a haystack.

“Right here.” Courtney plodded through the snow behind Liam, carrying her kit. “How frickin’ deep is this stuff?”

“It’s not that deep,” Liam said. “You’re just Oompa-Loompa sized.”

“I’m average height. You’re the anomaly.”

“Sergeant Miller, this is Agent Liam Wilson and our lead crime scene analyst Courtney Hart. She’s one of our best forensic scientists and the head of my Emergency Response Team,” Nikki said. “Liam worked the last Frost case with me, and Courtney’s been with me since my unit’s first investigation.”

Liam shook Miller’s hand. “I’d say nice to meet you, but under the circumstances, it sucks.”

Courtney murmured her agreement, nodding at Miller before shuffling through the snow to examine the bodies. “I followed our Frost protocol, so it’s just me today. Bodies frozen like this unfortunately take a while to process, and we don’t need a full team scouring the snow.” She dropped to all fours and leaned over the girls’ heads, her nose within an inch of their faces.

“What’s she doing?” Miller asked.

Courtney looked at Nikki and slightly shook her head. Frost always used bleach to wipe his victims clean, including their clothes. They’d smelled bleach on every Frost victim so far, and Nikki firmly believed Frost wouldn’t deviate from that routine. Like the body position, that crucial detail had been kept out of the media, and Nikki could count on her team not sharing the information until they were certain about trusting Miller. Nikki didn’t know Miller well enough yet.

“I’m just trying to figure out how long they were covered with snow,” Courtney said. “What do you think?”

“A few days, at least,” Miller said. “This nasty wind helped expose them.”

Liam glanced at Sergeant Miller. “No offense, but I don’t think this is the Frost Killer’s work.”

“Neither does he,” Nikki said. “Sergeant, what do you know about the farmer who owns the ground?”

“He’s around our age, inherited the family farm. No record of any sort. Son’s fourteen, never been in any trouble.”

Nikki looked at Liam, who shivered in the brisk wind. “Is the truck almost here?”

“The rolling freezer?” Liam asked. “Yeah.”

“First time I’ve seen it used,” Sergeant Miller said. “Never dreamed it would be for two little girls instead of some poor soul who fell through the ice.”

Courtney crouched beside Madison, using her high-powered magnifier on the girl’s jeans. “God, this wind is a bitch. Any trace evidence is probably long gone unless it’s frozen in the clothes.”

“Boss, why don’t you go warm up in your car and wait for the morgue truck? I’ll stay with them.” Liam circled the bodies, taking pictures with the digital camera.

Nikki would normally refuse, but her damned feet and hands ached from the cold.

Her mind raced ahead as she and Miller walked back in silence. Given the frozen state of the bodies, Nikki understood why Sheriff Hardin wanted to inform her. But with her family’s name in the news again, Nikki wondered if Hardin hadn’t jumped at the chance to bring her into town. She hadn’t set foot in Stillwater in nearly twenty years, and despite the desolate location, it felt like the town was already suffocating her.

Now that she was sure it wasn’t Frost, she could hand the investigation back to the local police. Nikki could go back to St. Paul and keep Stillwater in her past, where it belonged. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to get the image of the two girls lying dead in the snow out of her head.

“Shit,” Miller hissed. “Someone must have tipped her off.”

Nikki shielded her eyes against the blowing snow. A four-door pickup had parked in front of Nikki’s jeep. The woman behind the wheel watched as the refrigerated truck ambled down the drive and came to a stop behind the sergeant’s cruiser. She typed something into her phone, and then checked her reflection in the rearview mirror.

“It’s Caitlin Newport,” Miller said. “She’s—”

“I know who she is.” Caitlin’s last true-crime documentary had helped get a death-row inmate a new trial. In 2000, Fred Elwood was convicted of the brutal murder of his sixty-eight-year-old mother-in-law. His young niece testified she’d hidden in the closet and was certain her uncle had committed the murder, but she later recanted her story. DNA evidence had finally exonerated Elwood last year.

Caitlin hopped out of the pickup and pulled a hat over her honey-colored hair. She scanned the scene before zipping her coat to her chin and striding through the snow as though she had every right to intrude on a crime scene.

Instead of designer snow boots and a figure-flattering coat, Caitlin had opted for bulky snow pants and a well-worn parka. Caitlin didn’t usually dress so sensibly, and Nikki could tell she was trying to blend in with the locals. Sunglasses hid her shrewd eyes, but Nikki still felt the weight of the filmmaker’s stare.

“My guys will take care of her.” Miller motioned to the two pink-cheeked deputies tasked with standing in the frigid weather and keeping the scene clear.

---