Page 81 of The Girls in the Snow

“Nicole Walsh? Is that you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Johnson. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” She smiled. “And it’s Nadine, please. You’re not a kid anymore.”

Nikki followed her into the familiar house, her throat knotting. The furniture had changed, but the general arrangement remained the same. Two chairs flanked the big bay window that overlooked the old Zephyr line. Her parents had loved the now-defunct dinner train, and every time they had a romantic night out on the Zephyr, Nikki would sit at the window watching the train rumble past. The route was now Brown’s Creek Trail. “You still have a lovely view.”

“Thank heavens,” Nadine said. “I was afraid when the train stopped running the bulldozers would come next. But the nature preserve is just lovely.”

“You look well.”

“I can’t complain.” Nadine studied her for a moment. “Your hair is shorter. I told you cutting it to your shoulders would make it curl.”

Nadine had owned a successful hair salon for years in downtown Stillwater. Beauty salons like Nadine’s had been the center of town. Nadine always knew everything about everyone; people came to her with gossip, especially their neighbors.

“You were right. I spent so many years dealing with that long mess.”

“Would you like some coffee? I just made some.”

“No, thank you.”

Nadine sat down in front of the window. “Please, sit down. You’re with the FBI. A profiler, right? Like the ones on television?”

“Something like that. I’m working on the murders in town.”

“Just awful.” Nadine’s voice trembled. “Awful there are people in this world who do such things.”

“It is. Which make my job even more important.”

“You wanted to be a teacher,” Nadine said. “Or a social worker.”

“That was before,” Nikki replied and she didn’t need to say any more. “Did you see the article in the paper about me?”

Nadine waved her bony hand. “It’s disgusting what these journalists can say nowadays.”

“That’s kind of why I’m here,” Nikki said. “I haven’t thought about that night for so long, and people are asking me to remember it all over again. Everyone’s telling me different things, and I’m second-guessing my own memories.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because Hardin knew I’d been drinking. He says he just did a field sobriety test, but I swear a paramedic took blood for a tox test. Hardin says I was just getting fluids.”

“You were definitely dehydrated,” Nadine said. “You reeked of alcohol. But I watched you pass the sobriety test. And then they took you to the ambulance for fluids.”

“So I am just imagining things?”

“Not at all,” Nadine said. “You were in such shock, and I didn’t want to let you out of my sight. I watched your blood being drawn.”

“Where was Hardin?” Relief washed over Nikki, but a new sense of dread settled over her. The tox report had definitely gone missing.

“That I don’t remember. You were my sole focus. And as for your own memories, you had a traumatic experience most people can’t even fathom. Of course your memories are jumbled. Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

It had taken years for Nikki to process her mother’s death. To stop wishing her mother was there for a crisis. But being back in Nadine’s house reminded her that Nadine had been her mother’s friend. They should be growing old together, harassing Nikki about seeing Lacey and having more grandchildren, while her father puttered around the farm looking for a hobby.

Nikki put her head in her hands. “I’ve worked so hard to make the past stay in the past. Now it’s like I can’t get away from it.”

“You can’t escape the past,” Nadine said. “Especially your childhood. Good or bad, those experiences shape who you grow up to be. Your past is tragic, so you gravitated towards justice. I’m not surprised you’re a profiler. You were always so observant. You picked out little details about things no one else noticed.”

Nikki wiped her eyes. “The last time I cried was when I had my daughter.”