I See You (Criminal Profiler, #2)(43)

“April fifth. It’s her birthday. I got her a present and took it to her house. She accepted it but said she couldn’t visit because she had to help her mom. I knew that was a lie. Mrs. Foster never asks for help.”

“She’s not the first girl to get swept up in her first relationship. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I found Skylar’s social media accounts, and they look pretty normal. Were there others she didn’t tell her parents about?”

“Yeah. She just didn’t use her name.”

“What name did she use?”

“Wild Blue. Like the sky.” Saying the name out loud coaxed a quick, fleeting smile.

Zoe searched Wild Blue on a popular app designed for hiding communications and spotted the username. “Do you know her password?”

“I did, but I haven’t looked at her profile for a while. I’m not sure if it still works. Do you want it?”

“Yes, I do.”

Jessica rattled off the numbers and letters, which amounted to what appeared to be random numbers and initials.

Zoe texted the password to Bud Clary. He responded immediately, promising to get right back to her.

“Did Skylar ever talk about anyone other than Neil?”

“She used to talk to a guy on the phone.”

“Who?”

The girl shook her head. “She never told me his name.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“No. She was kind of secretive about him. Do you think he is the one that took Skylar?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Zoe said.

“Is Skylar going to be okay?”

Even if they found her alive, her life would never be the same. “I hope so.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tuesday, August 13, 3:00 p.m.

Alexandria, Virginia

Eight Hours after the 911 Call

When they stepped outside, Zoe slid on her sunglasses. The afternoon heat warmed her bones, and she was glad to be in the fresh air. Skylar and Hadley had been missing for about eight hours. In most cases like this, the perpetrator was not random but someone known to the family.

“Roger stated that Hadley is about to leave her husband. And Skylar liked to keep secrets, including a male friend no one had met,” Zoe said.

“So much for the perfect family.” As Vaughan unlocked the car and they both got inside, his phone rang. “It’s Hughes.” He answered and put her on speaker.

“We have Mrs. Foster’s recent credit card. We’ve developed a list of stores she frequented, and uniforms are running down security footage,” Hughes said.

“Key in on dates around the first week of July,” Zoe said. “We have a report that Hadley Foster became more agitated about that time.”

“Will do,” Hughes said.

“What about arrests? Do any of the Fosters have arrest records?” Vaughan asked.

“Mark did missionary work in high school and then married Hadley. From then onward, they were the perfect couple. Skylar is their only child. The girl has no record here, but I’m reaching out to police in Portland, Oregon.”

“Thanks. Keep us posted on the financials,” Vaughan said to Hughes. “I know the uniforms have been knocking on doors all morning, but I still want to talk to some of the neighbors.”

“Right,” Hughes said. “Will keep you posted.”

Twenty minutes later, Vaughan and Zoe were knocking on the door of the house that faced the Fosters’ backyard. It belonged to Rodney and Sarah Pollard.

She glanced at Vaughan and noticed the frown lines around his eyes had deepened. Cases involving a missing child were stressful to everyone working the case, but for a guy like Vaughan, with a teenage son, it had to hit close to home.

Seconds later, footsteps sounded in the brick two-story house. Like the Fosters’ house, the Pollards’ home had been built about sixty or seventy years ago. The lawn was small but carefully manicured.

The door opened to a petite woman with salt-and-pepper hair draped over narrow shoulders. Worry darkened her eyes as she looked up at Vaughan and then Zoe.

“Are you police?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Vaughan said. “This is FBI special agent Zoe Spencer, and I am Detective William Vaughan. We’re working the case together.”

“I’ve been worried sick since the officer knocked on my door this morning. Do you have any news about that poor family?”

“Mr. Foster is out of surgery and doing well. We’re still looking for Mrs. Foster and her daughter. May we come in?”

“Of course you can,” she said, stepping aside. “That poor family. My heart just breaks for them.”

The house was decorated with traditional Queen Anne furniture, similar to Uncle Jimmy’s tastes. The walls were painted a hunter green, more fitting with the colonial era of Alexandria, Virginia. There was a reproduction Matisse on the wall that she was tempted to look at more closely. Jimmy always said artists copying other painters signed their work in secret ways.

“How well do you know the Fosters?” Zoe asked.

“I see Hadley several times a week. We both are often coming and going at the same time, with just enough time to wave and smile. Last week, we were saying how nice it would be to go to the new wine bar on King Street. I don’t know Mark that well. He, like my husband, works long hours.”