Page 53 of The Girls in the Snow

Hardin’s chin jutted out. “I know how to deal with the media, Agent.”

“And I know Frost,” she replied. “He’s methodical, and he’s ruled by his ego. If you push the narrative too far, he will do something that very clearly proves he’s not responsible. That blows our strategy, not to mention possibly getting someone else killed.”

“Fine,” he said. “You think our victim knew something about the murders or was she just a decoy?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. We’ll know more after she’s identified and autopsied.” Nikki smiled sweetly. “Why did you call Newport?”

Hardin scowled. “I’m just trying to get her attention off us.”

Miller had walked over to speak with a deputy. Hardin already seemed off his game. If she asked about the blood test now, she might get an honest reaction.

“Where’s the blood test I took that night? To check my blood alcohol level.”

Hardin’s expression didn’t change, but he stiffened, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “What are you talking about?”

“A paramedic took my blood the night my parents died. You knew I’d been drinking.”

“I gave you a sobriety test,” Hardin said. “You passed easily.”

“I remember the paramedic and the needle.”

“You were in shock and dehydrated,” he said. “They put an IV in. They wanted to take you to the hospital, but you refused.”

Nikki vaguely remembered the argument about the hospital. She’d arrived on the neighbor’s doorstep, screaming and pounding on the door. The neighbor called the police. At some point, the police had left the crime scene to speak with Nikki, and the paramedics had shown up.

“They took my blood,” she said, wanting to feel certain, as doubt crept through her.

Hardin rolled his eyes as though she were an irritating toddler. “That never happened. You told me you only had a few drinks and hadn’t had anything for at least three hours. You passed the sobriety test. But evidently you weren’t honest about how drunk you were.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “I had sobered up.”

“The facts don’t matter. It’s perception.” Beads of sweat dotted Hardin’s forehead.

Nikki tried to keep her voice calm. “At least now I know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hardin’s face had gone red.

“What do you think it means?”

“That you’re a cocky FBI star who is worried about her reputation,” he said. “If your testimony is ultimately thrown out, you’re going to look like a pariah who lied.”

“Or a traumatized teenager who was a victim of a poorly run investigation,” she snapped.

His dark eyes narrowed. “You’d better watch out who you cross, Hunt.”

“Then don’t try to manipulate me. You’re not nearly as good at it as you think.”

“You should be focused on these murders instead of wasting time in the past.”

Nikki’s hands balled into fists. “I’m completely focused.”

“Tell Miller to keep me up to date.” Hardin gunned the engine and peeled away from the curb.

Nikki’s body trembled with anger. How could he accuse her of lying about the tox report, much less her sobriety? He knew she’d been drinking that night because she’d admitted to it, and he performed the field sobriety test himself. She’d been a traumatized sixteen-year-old kid, and she’d trusted Hardin when he said she had passed the test. What else had Hardin lied about? What if Rory was right?

Miller headed towards Nikki. “What the hell’s going on?” he said, reaching her.

Nikki had to focus on the murders, and Hardin was Miller’s boss. He didn’t need her emotional baggage. “We need to get this woman identified as soon as possible.”

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