I See You (Criminal Profiler, #2)(62)

“I hope so.”

“She could be hiding out until the drama passes.”

“Has Skylar run away before?”

“A couple of times, but only for a few hours, and it was always to Jessica’s or my house. We’d eat ice cream and talk about how her parents sucked. She didn’t like to be around them when they fought.”

“I never saw them fight,” Barb said.

“They were super careful that no one heard them,” Devon said. “They wanted everyone to think they were perfect.”

“Is that what Skylar said?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah. She hated that they were always getting into it.”

“What did they fight about?”

“Money, mostly. Mrs. Foster liked to buy things. And I think Mr. Foster wasn’t making the money he used to,” Devon said.

“I never knew any of this,” Barb said.

“Did Mr. Foster ever threaten his wife?” Zoe asked.

“No. At least not that she told me.”

Kids absorbed more than most parents realized. Zoe fished two cards from her pocket and handed one to Barb and one to Devon. “If you think of anything else, call me.”

“Of course.”

“She’s going to turn up,” Devon said. “She always does.”

“I hope so,” Zoe said.

Outside, Zoe called Bud Clary. When he answered, she asked, “What’s the status of the messages on Skylar’s phone?”

“She’d been in contact with a guy by the name of Mr. Fix It,” Bud said.

“Really?”

“He’s told her multiple times how special she is and how much he loves her. Let me read an exchange.”

“Fire away.”

Wild Blue: My mother is leaving my father.

Mr. Fix It: I told you she would.

Wild Blue: How am I going to survive without my family.

Mr. Fix It: I’ll be your family now.

“Damn it,” she said. “Thanks, Bud.”

She returned to the house and rang the bell. Barb answered it. “I have one more quick question for Devon.”

“Sure.” Barb called to her daughter, who came down the stairs.

“Sorry to bother you again. Have you heard of a guy named Mr. Fix It? Skylar was messaging him through an app.”

“No, she never mentioned him to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, thanks again.” When Zoe found Vaughan, his phone was to his ear and he was frowning, deepening the lines around his mouth and eyes. She imagined in a few years those lines would be permanently etched into his face, and the flecks of gray in his hair would be thickened. At least on him, the extra wear looked good. He was a hard man to ignore.

When she reached Vaughan, he said in a weary tone, “Agent Spencer and I will be right there.”

“What is it?” she asked.

He tucked the phone in his breast pocket. “A couple of morning joggers on the W&OD Trail found a body in Waterfront Park. It matches the description of Hadley Foster.”

The fifty-mile trail, which followed an old railroad bed, started thirty miles to the west in Loudon County and meandered along the Potomac River to Mount Vernon. “Any sign of Skylar?”

“No.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Wednesday, August 14, 9:00 a.m.

Alexandria, Virginia

Twenty-Six Hours after the 911 Call

By the time Zoe and Vaughan arrived at the thirty-acre park ten minutes later, she had briefed him on Skylar’s conversation with Mr. Fix It. His grim expression mirrored her own worries for the girl and her mother.

Flashing lights and a dozen cop cars greeted them. They parked and moved toward the yellow tape, ducking under it, and headed for the grassy shoreline along a wide creek. The sun was already high in the sky, and the air was heating up. Another hot, humid day.

Zoe tugged on latex gloves and moved directly to the shore. She spotted the white athletic shoe and then the jogging shorts. Slowly, her gaze trailed up the trim body to the face of Hadley Foster, which stared, sightless, up to the clear blue sky.

A deep sense of sadness and disappointment washed over her as she studied the knife wounds slashing the woman’s neck and arms. Cops tried to be cynical and hardened about how these cases played out, but that did not stop them from hoping they could beat the odds. For just a moment, she allowed outrage and disgust to roil inside her before she carefully shoved both inside an already brimming box deep within her. Hadley Foster’s body had to now be considered strictly as evidence.

Her gaze lowered to the woman’s hands. One lay in the water and was already discolored and bloated. Water did terrible things to the dead. The other hand was on shore and still in fairly good shape. The nails, though dirty now, were not broken or chipped. Her hands weren’t scraped or cut.

As the water gently lapped against the side of the body, she inventoried the knife wounds and counted three in the chest and neck region. The direct frontal attack, combined with the absence of defensive wounds, suggested to Zoe that Hadley had either recognized her attacker or been caught completely by surprise. And considering that the initial attack had occurred in her bedroom, perhaps it was a combination of both.

Her thoughts pivoted back to Mark Foster. The man had been having an affair. His ex-girlfriend was now on ice at the medical examiner’s office. His own wounds had been superficial. He was in debt. His kid had exhibited unstable behavior. There was already enough probable cause to hold him for questioning.