I See You (Criminal Profiler, #2)(91)

She clicked on a file, and an image of Veronica frozen in midstep at the Pentagon City Mall appeared. In the clip, Veronica was walking out of the Jazz dress shop, a large shopping bag resting on her arm. She reached into her purse and removed her cell and held it up to her ear. She stopped, frowned, and looked around and then started moving at a fast pace toward the mall exit. She vanished out of sight.

Hughes clicked on another screen. “This was taken outside the north mall exit, which was the direction she appeared to be moving in when she left the dress shop.”

In this clip, Veronica exited the mall and crossed the lot toward a dark SUV. As she approached the car, the window came down. She paused to talk to the driver, who, at first glance, was not visible to the viewer.

“Wait for it,” Hughes said.

The door opened, and Mark Foster got out. He glanced from side to side, and then he kissed Veronica on the lips.

“What date was that?”

“Two days before she ‘went on vacation.’”

Hughes zeroed in on the car near the SUV. “Does this car look familiar?”

Spencer nodded. “It’s Hadley Foster’s.”

“And the driver is Skylar. She was following her father. She must have seen him kiss Veronica,” Vaughan said.

“Might be coincidental for the girl to just show up at the mall. But I wouldn’t bet the farm on it,” Hughes said.

“Good work,” Vaughan said.

“Oh, I’m not finished yet. Let me replay Foster’s 911 call.”

7:00 a.m.

911: 911, what’s your emergency?

Caller: My wife has been stabbed. Kidnapped, along with our daughter.

911: Sir, what is your name and location?

Caller: I’m Mark Foster, and I’m at my home. Hurry.

911: Mr. Foster, are you injured?

Caller: I’ve been stabbed. My wife and daughter have been kidnapped.

“Now that we are reminded of the timeline, you’re going to find this interesting,” Hughes said as she clicked on another clip. “We were also able to pull the security footage from the neighbor’s home located on a diagonal to the back of the Fosters’ house.” She pulled up the image.

The black-and-white footage featured the Fosters’ backyard. It was dark, but there was a full moon.

The back door to the Foster home opened, and Hadley Foster appeared. She stretched, rolled her head from side to side, and jogged toward the back gate.

“What time was this?” Spencer asked.

“It was at 3:15 a.m.,” Hughes said.

“That’s almost four hours before the 911 call,” Vaughan said.

“A lot earlier than we first thought,” Spencer said.

“Hadley reappeared in her backyard at 4:20 a.m. through the same entrance,” Hughes continued. As Hadley walked up the back sidewalk, she pressed a hand to her side, as if she had a stitch. She vanished into the house. “Now watch the shadows by the toolshed.”

Both Vaughan and Spencer observed the inky darkness shrouding the back corners of the yard. It was totally still, and then seconds after Hadley went into the house, something moved. It was impossible to make out who was there, but it was clear there was something.

“An animal?” Vaughan asked.

“That’s what I thought at first. Keep watching.” Seconds later, a figure appeared wearing jeans and a hoodie. They both waited and watched, willing the figure to step into the light.

And then a security light tripped, and the face of Skylar Foster came into view.

“Skylar was up,” Spencer said.

“What the hell was Skylar doing outside?” Vaughan asked.

“Teenagers aren’t always asleep in their own beds,” Spencer said. “She could have been sneaking home.”

“From where?” Vaughan asked.

“Neil Bradford is the logical choice,” Spencer said. “But who knows.”

“Mark said she was in her room when the attack happened,” Vaughan said.

“We know she was following her father to the mall. Stands to reason she could be following her mother when she went out early,” Hughes said.

The timeline of events came more into focus for Vaughan. “Hadley arrives home. Skylar is on her heels. Mark is sleeping on the couch and wakes up. He sees them both. Maybe he thought the daughter had gone to sleep. He and the wife get into it. It goes sideways, and he stabs her?”

Hughes leaned back in her chair. “Still doesn’t rule out that masked intruder. If I were Mark, I’d claim their attacker held them hostage for a couple of hours.”

“I don’t think whatever happened in Hadley and Mark’s bedroom was planned,” Spencer said.

“Why do you say that?” Vaughan asked.

“Foster’s fabricating his story as he goes along. He wasn’t expecting the stabbing, the tossing of the body and knife, nor stashing his kid in the motel room. Foster was in a full-blown panic that morning. He comes by the station to confess until you impress upon him that you’re still going to follow the forensic evidence. Then he seems to shift gears.”

“What the hell is he hiding?” Vaughan asked.





CHAPTER THIRTY

Thursday, August 15, 9:00 a.m.

Fifty Hours after the 911 Call