Page 5 of Little Child Gone

Nikki went back into the kitchen where Ruth and Courtney had nearly finished. “Court, do you have any evidence collection kits in your car?”

Courtney looked insulted. “You know me better than that. I’ve got a basic collection kit, a box of gloves and paper booties.”

“Is luminol in that kit?”

Ruth stopped putting the silverware away. Courtney had already tossed her drying towel on the table, eager to get back to what she loved. “Yep.”

“Ruth, can you let Lacey know we had a work thing, but I won’t be gone long,” Nikki told her mother-in-law. “I promise.”

TWO

Nikki flagged Rory down after Mark and Lacey had passed her. “Having fun?”

He smirked. “She loves it.” Rory’s gaze drifted to Courtney. “What’s going on?”

Nikki told him about Matt Kline’s call. “I understand why he wants me to look first. I just didn’t feel like I could say no.”

“Jesus. What do you want me to tell Lacey?”

“That I’ve got to help someone out and won’t be gone long.” She glanced at the swelled storm clouds. “Is it supposed to snow today?”

Rory nodded. “Please be careful. And don’t slam the brakes for anything.”

Nikki kissed her husband and hurried to join Courtney in the Jeep. She climbed into the driver’s seat, tossing her bag in the middle row. Thanks to the automatic start, the inside of the Jeep was almost hot. Nikki shrugged out of her heavy coat.

“I hate winter.” Courtney let loose a string of four-letter words about the weather.

“Well, it’s January,” Nikki said. “The worst will be over by March.”

“Oh, shut up,” Courtney replied. “You know damn good and well it could still be below zero in March.”

Nikki snickered. Courtney hated the cold and would complain about it until every ounce of snow had melted. “Are you nervous about going into the field again?”

“A little bit,” Courtney said, wriggling in her seat. “Even though this sounds like it will be some kind of cold case, right? It doesn’t sound like it could be Eli Robertson.”

Fourteen-year-old Eli had been missing for more than a month, with few leads. Stillwater police were in charge of the investigation, but Nikki had been keeping an eye on it just in case they needed her help. She and Sheriff Miller had both offered assistance on multiple occasions and had been turned down.

“Normally, I’d say we couldn’t rule it out because there are ways to quickly decompose a body, even in this cold,” Nikki replied. “But the Hendrickson place has sat empty for two years while the siblings squabbled over their father’s estate.”

“Well before Eli disappeared,” Courtney said.

“Or Scott Williams.” The fourteen-year-old had disappeared in the spring, his body washing up weeks later in the St. Croix River, several miles south of Washington County. She and Miller both believed his stepfather was responsible, but they hadn’t found enough evidence to arrest him. Nikki had been told to leave the case alone. She’d still been spending her evenings searching through files, looking for something that could get the stepfather arrested.

Nikki remembered what Miller had last said. “We’ve been operating as though his stepfather killed him, but we don’t have a lot of leads. It was dark and cloudy and all of the CCTV is lousy.” Scott had left a friend’s house late at night, claiming he had to get home. The walk was a little over a mile down a relatively busy road, but Scott had disappeared without a trace. Could she and Miller have been wrong about his stepfather?

“Eli disappeared near the ball fields southwest of downtown Stillwater,” Nikki said. “Scott Williams lived on Interlochen Avenue, which is on the north side of the interstate. The ball fields are south of it. And this is far north Washington County. So, there are no connections yet. Hence why I haven’t been called in. This is unlikely to be anything to do with either.” Courtney nodded.

The Hendrickson homestead on the northeast corner of Washington County was one of the few remaining buildings built during the Swedish migration to Minnesota. “I read a lot about the Hendrickson place when it went up for sale,” Nikki continued as she drove. “It was built in the 1890s. Karl Hendrickson’s grandfather was first generation American, born on the homestead. The original house is gone, but the barn is still standing, and that qualified for the historic register.” Nikki’s interest had been piqued by the historical factor, but she’d followed the story for the drama.

“Karl Hendrickson died a couple of years ago,” Nikki said. “There was something about a change to his will that caused the estate not to close and the house to sit empty, but I don’t know the details.” Nikki wondered how Matt Kline had come to purchase the place. His own ancestral home at Bone Lake had been the scene of grisly murders—twice—and Matt wanted nothing to do with it. “We go right by Bone Lake. I’m surprised Matt Kline bought this place.”

“He still owns the Bone Lake house, right?”

“I don’t know,” Nikki admitted. “Caitlin encouraged him to sell it, but two murder sprees tend to bring down the value. From what I’ve heard, though, it makes the Airbnb even more popular.” Nikki had wondered why Matt hadn’t taken Caitlin’s advice. Caitlin was a journalist, it was how she had met Liam, but she and Matt were old childhood friends. Nikki knew he trusted her more than anyone else.

“Why did Matt call you and not the sheriff?”

Nikki suspected Matt had more than one reason, but she explained his distrust of the Chisago police. “The Chisago County Police took charge of his family’s murders since it was near the county line, and they got to the scene first. Egos botched that case from the beginning.”

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