Page 16 of Her Frozen Heart

Miller nodded. “In the most disastrous way possible, just like we expected. By the time the local police got to the Williamses’ home, Stanton’s wife had already contacted them and told them what her husband found. All hell sort of broke loose after that, so the police brought the family into the station and set up a video call that’s supposed to begin shortly. I’m just waiting for them to pick up.”

Nikki pushed away the protein shake she’d just opened. “How could anyone be so obtuse? Whose contact number was on the reward information?”

“Kesha’s aunt, who’s staying at the house during the holiday. So, there was no buffer. She got the call and turned right around and told the parents.”

“Those poor people.” The Williamses lived in Northfield, a small town about an hour from the Twin Cities, famous for Jesse James and the Younger Gang’s bank robbery in 1876. Nikki had a vague memory of an elementary school field trip to the First National Bank historic site in Northfield. The old building had been restored to its 1876 appearance, and walking inside made Nikki feel like she’d stepped back in time. One of the people giving the tour had claimed to be the descendant of one of the town members that fought back against the infamous gang. Nikki had always loved history, and it was easy to imagine the gang racing off down Division Street on their horses, with a posse of angry townspeople on their trail. That night, Nikki had told her parents she was going to be a historian like the people in the museum. Her father thought it was a great idea, but her mother had gone on and on about how little money historians made. Thinking back, she realized that had been the first spark of divide between Nikki and her mother.

The video call flashed on. Three chairs had been set up in what looked like a smaller, dingier version of the room Nikki and Miller currently occupied. A short, white woman with thick, graying hair occupied the chair on the right. “Sheriff Miller, I presume?”

“Correct, and this is Special Agent Nikki Hunt with the FBI. Thanks for setting this up for us. It’s Captain Farley, right?”

The woman nodded. “The Williams family are waiting to be brought in.”

“Before you do that, can we ask you a few questions?” Nikki asked.

“Of course. I assume you want to know everything possible about the Williamses and Kesha’s boyfriend?” As the Northfield police chief, Farley had been tasked with bringing Kesha’s parents into the police station.

“That would be great.”

Farley removed her tortoiseshell glasses and sighed. “This is a close-knit community, much like Stillwater and Washington County,” she said. “Everyone has been reeling from the disappearance. We worked in conjunction with the Bloomington PD for the first couple of weeks, but we haven’t been able to turn up any evidence that points to a perpetrator, including her boyfriend.”

Nikki caught the edge in her voice. “Do you not like him as a suspect?”

“I don’t like their single-mindedness,” she said. “The boyfriend has a bit of a past, his story regarding the sequence of events changed a bit, but nothing extensive in my opinion. More importantly, he’s on video for much of the day, including when he sought out the security officer.”

“What were the inconsistencies in his story?” Nikki asked.

“He had trouble remembering exactly when they finished eating and said he stayed on the bench until he sought out security, but he forgot to mention his fifteen-minute bathroom break,” Farley said.

“Security videos back his story up?” Miller asked.

“He spent about five in the bathroom, the other ten unaccounted for on the mall security cameras. He said he was looking for a vending machine that had something other than Coke.” Farley shrugged. “He originally told mall security about going to the bathroom, but he omitted it when the police showed up. The guard said Dion was upset, panicky, and kept talking to himself. That and his past were enough for the BPD to put on blinders.”

“What sort of past does he have?” Miller asked.

Chief Farley shook her head. “A few years ago, Dion was on his way down the wrong path, running with the wrong kids. He got in some serious trouble when he was fourteen, fifteen, but he turned things around.”

“What sort of serious trouble?” Nikki asked, already thinking about the headache of dealing with juvenile records.

“Breaking and entering, accessory to robbery. He was given probation and hasn’t been in trouble since.” Chief Farley leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “Yet the Bloomington PD barely looked at any other options, as if a black woman can only be killed at the hands of her black boyfriend.” Farley rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the mall security footage. She went to some other stores while he waited, and she never came back. He could have left the mall, but instead he’s the one who reported her. He’s been followed by the police, his financial records checked, his parents’ home searched. I’m confident he had nothing to do with her murder, and so are her parents.”

Nikki’s anxiety ticked up with every word. They were not only weeks behind the killer, but the initial investigation appeared to have been handled badly from the beginning. She skimmed the few notes she’d had time to jot down about the case. “The boyfriend’s name is Dion, right?”

Farley nodded. “He’s helped search and done everything asked of him. I swear the Bloomington PD treated us like small-town idiots any time we dared suggest they refocus the investigation. I hope that won’t be the case with you two.”

“Absolutely not,” Nikki said. “Do you have any leads or theories they didn’t follow?”

Farley sighed and shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. Kesha was a good student, she’d earned a couple of partial scholarships. Her father’s an engineer, Mom’s a schoolteacher. They moved up here from Kentucky when Kesha was around seven because she was bullied for being mixed race.”

“A decade ago,” Miller said in disgust. “Some places are just stuck in time.”

“And not a good one,” Farley agreed. “Parents both well-respected members of the community. Kesha was too. She worked part-time, volunteered. She hadn’t told anyone about feeling unsafe in her relationship or in any other aspect of her life. From our point of view, she was just taken at random.”

“Whoever took her had a plan and executed it perfectly,” Nikki said. “They’d have left some kind of evidence or information behind if they hadn’t planned this meticulously. But you’re right, she very well may have been chosen at random.” Which would make the case even harder to solve. Victimology was always essential in solving cases. Random selection took that tool away.

“If you don’t have any more questions, I’ll bring in her parents,” Farley said.

“How much have they been told?” Miller asked. “I’m sure you know we want to keep as many details locked down as possible.”

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