I See You (Criminal Profiler, #2)(39)

“She never told you her sister was killed?” Spencer asked.

“Hell no! Jesus. She never told me she even had a sister. She said her parents died in a car accident.”

“She wasn’t truthful,” Spencer said. “Her parents died of natural causes seventeen years ago. We met with her yesterday to inform her that her sister’s remains had been identified.”

Dawson shook his head. “She never said a word to me.”

“Did Hadley make a habit of lying?” Spencer asked.

“Not to me.”

“But to others?” Spencer asked.

“She worried too much about what people thought, so she tended to exaggerate.”

Vaughan had crossed paths with many skilled liars, and if Dawson was one of them, he was in the top of his class. He handed Dawson a card. “Call me if you hear from Hadley or Skylar or if you think of anything.”

Dawson glanced at the card, his face paling as he flicked the edge of the card. “Mark knows more than he’s saying. Bet on it.”

“Do you think Hadley summoned up the courage to talk to her husband about a divorce?” Spencer asked.

Tension rippled over Dawson’s body as he pressed his fist to his lips. “I was pushing her to talk to him. She swore she’d ask Mark for a divorce this morning.”

“Maybe she did just that,” Vaughan said.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tuesday, August 13, 2:00 p.m.

Alexandria, Virginia

Seven Hours after the 911 Call Vaughan returned to the Foster house and discovered the news vans were still parked across the street, and the cop cars lining the curb had multiplied. As he parked, Spencer pulled in behind him.

Vaughan waited for Spencer to join him before they approached the house. Each donned latex gloves and entered the foyer. Bud Clary, still dressed in protective gear, was dusting for prints on the front window.

“Detective Vaughan,” Bud said. “Agent Spencer.”

“What have you found out so far?” Vaughan asked.

“The initial assault occurred in the bedroom, as I first thought. The victim was carried down the stairs and out the garage door to where the Lexus was parked. There’s also a sizeable bloodstain by the entryway. Because Foster was found bleeding by the front entrance, we can assume that blood is his, but I can’t confirm until I run DNA.”

“You’ve sent off samples?” Vaughan asked.

“A couple of hours ago. We are collecting DNA from hair fibers in both the mother’s and daughter’s bathrooms as well as the blood drawn from Foster at the hospital. I’m also expediting the testing of the blood samples taken from the Lexus. It shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

In the world of DNA matches, that was quick, but in the life of a missing kid, hours mattered.

“Bud, what about Skylar’s phone?” Vaughan asked. “You said you found it?”

“That’s correct,” Bud said.

“Were you able to access it?” Spencer asked.

“No. But a Neil Bradford called shortly after we recovered it. I answered it. Bradford sounds like a young kid, and he says that he’s her boyfriend.”

Vaughan scribbled down the name and number for Bradford. “Where’s the kid now?”

“He said he was calling from the local high school, and he was worried about Skylar because she was supposed to meet him.”

“Thanks, Bud,” Vaughan said.

Vaughan and Spencer walked into the house, and she moved directly toward the kitchen. She stood beside the Washington Redskins mug. “The cup’s full, but he said he drank half the cup. It’s a small detail, but they eventually add up.”

Vaughan looked out the window toward the trash cans and the recycling bin. “Foster also said he put the recycling bin out.”

Her gaze trailed past his toward the backyard and the blue-and-white plastic container filled with bottles. “There could have been another bin.”

“There were no others on the street. Small detail number two.”

“That blows his reasoning for leaving the front door unlocked.”

“The sun’s up at 6:19 a.m.,” Vaughan said. “Folks in this neighborhood are getting up and going to work. It’s busy around here, and someone should have seen a masked intruder. Foster called 911 at 7:00 a.m., which means the attack occurred at this peak time.”

“Maybe Foster got the time wrong. Maybe he passed out after he was stabbed. Maybe whatever happened occurred much earlier,” she said.

“Maybe. Fewer potential witnesses and less traffic between here and the cemetery. Want to start knocking on doors and talking to the neighbors?” he asked.

“I want to talk to Skylar’s boyfriend first,” she said. “If there’s something wrong at home, a teenage girl is likely to confide in her boyfriend.”

“He’s in school now, but it won’t be hard to pull him out of class to question him.”

“Let’s go.”



Zoe relaxed back in her seat as Vaughan drove the fifteen minutes to the Alexandria public high school. Out of the car, Zoe and Vaughan crossed the lot to the main doors. Neither appeared to be interested in the small talk most cops attempted in a bid to get to know a new partner. And to be honest, it felt a little weird.