Page 15 of The Girls in the Snow

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Nikki said. “You and Amy are close?”

“Not exactly close. Amy’s very private. But she was a rock after my husband’s death. I just can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

Nikki glanced around at the snow-covered houses. “Is this a tight-knit area?”

“I think so,” Mindy said. “The Burns family at the end of the cul-de-sac throws block parties in the summer. Pays for a live band and funhouses for the kids.”

“People look out for one another,” Nikki said.

“Absolutely.”

“Would they notice a strange person or vehicle hanging around?”

Mindy thought about it for a moment. “Maybe, but there are always visitors. I can’t see anyone paying much attention unless there was some kind of commotion.” She zipped up her coat and pulled on gloves. “I’m sorry to be rude, but I have to get to work.”

“Of course.” Nikki handed her a business card. “I know you already gave a statement, when the girls disappeared, but if you think of anything else that you think could help, give me a call.”

Mindy nodded. “It was nice to meet you.”

The door opened once again. Dressed in sweats and an old Vikings shirt, Nikki thought John looked more like the slightly wild college kid she remembered.

“Thought I heard your voice.” Circles lined his bloodshot eyes.

“Did you get any sleep?” Nikki asked.

“A little.” John glanced over her shoulder and waved at Mindy. “I was going to take care of the sidewalk.”

“I think she just wanted to help,” Nikki said. “No one really knows what to do in these situations.”

Miller joined them, finishing off the last of the ice melt, and she and Miller followed John inside. Nikki slipped her boots off, discreetly admiring the house. The entry flowed into a massive great room that offered spectacular views of the iced-over lake. Family pictures lined the mantle over the fireplace, and the entire room had a definite Dollanganger vibe. Fair-skinned and blond-haired Amy and John could have been related, and Madison and the small boy sitting on her lap were doll-like replicas of their parents. Madison easily passed for John’s biological child.

“What’s your son’s name?” Nikki asked.

John sat on the couch, staring into the fire. “Bailey. He’s with Amy’s parents.”

“How did he take the news?”

“We haven’t told him,” John replied.

“I understand it’s going to be hard,” Nikki said, “but you shouldn’t wait much longer. The worst thing that could happen is his finding out from someone else. If you need a victim’s advocate who specializes in kids—”

“We’re fine.” Amy Banks sat down next to her husband. The black-framed glasses she wore didn’t hide her red eyes or the dark circles beneath them.

“How are you doing this morning, Mrs. Banks?”

Amy stared at her for a moment. “Fucking awful. How do you think I’m doing?”

“Jesus, be polite,” John said. “She’s here to help.”

Nikki wasn’t fazed by the woman’s rudeness. She’d endured much worse from grieving family members. They needed someone to lash out at, and cops were often the easiest people to focus on. “We just met Mindy Vance. It was nice of her to stop by.”

Amy’s expression softened. “She’s very kind. She’s gone through her share of grief.”

“Yes, she mentioned her husband. Your families spent a lot of time together?”

“Not in recent years,” Amy said. “Madison was younger than Mindy’s son, so they didn’t hang out much. We just didn’t have much in common.”

“Were you and your daughter close, Mrs. Banks?”