I See You (Criminal Profiler, #2)(93)

The door upstairs squeaked closed but did not quite click into place. Vaughan and Zoe sat across from Skylar, who remained curled on the couch and reached for a soft blue blanket to pull it over her legs.

“Skylar. Tell me what happened two days ago,” Vaughan said.

She pulled the blanket up closer to her chin. “My father told you what happened. A masked man broke into our house.”

“Walk us through the morning,” Zoe said.

The girl closed her eyes, a small sigh slipping over her lips. “I was in my room, getting ready for school. Dad brought me coffee.”

“How was he dressed?” Vaughan asked.

“He was wearing his suit. He gave me my coffee, and then he remembered the recycling. He left. I took a couple of sips, and then I heard the screaming. I ran out of my room, and Mom was on the floor. A man was standing over her.”

Zoe knew Vaughan wanted the girl to repeat the story. She had been given enough time to settle in a little; now was the time to amend it. She had not.

“Skylar, that version of events doesn’t fit with what we’ve found,” Vaughan said.

“What do you mean, it doesn’t fit?” she asked.

The girl had the face of an angel, and when she looked up at them, it was with pure innocence mingled with pain and confusion.

“We pulled surveillance footage from your neighbor’s house. We saw you follow your mother into the house. Why didn’t you tell us that you’d been outside?”

Skylar closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, she was nodding. “I forgot about that. I’m in shock, I guess. And I’m still scared. I didn’t want anyone to know where I’d been.”

“Where had you been?” Zoe asked.

“With Neil.” She dropped her voice a fraction. “We were in his family van. I know Monday nights are the easiest to get away without being noticed.”

“Why Mondays?” Vaughan asked.

“Mom was seeing a guy. Dad works late. He always has a big report to turn in on Tuesdays.”

“Where were you and Neil parked?” Vaughan asked.

“There’s a park close by. We didn’t want our parents to know.” She rubbed her fingertips against her temples. “I should have told you, but I didn’t think that it mattered. I went right upstairs and went to sleep. That’s why I was slow getting out of bed when Dad woke me up at 6:00 a.m.”

“How did you end up at the motel room?” Vaughan asked.

“I’m not really sure. I think I was drugged.”

“Who gave you the drugs?”

“I guess Dad did,” she said softly. “Next thing I know, it was twenty-four hours later.”

“Who is Mr. Fix It?” Zoe asked.

Skylar was silent as she seemed to gauge her words. “Jason.”

“Jason Dalton,” Vaughan clarified.

“Yes.”

“Did he contact your mother ever?” Vaughan asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Would seeing him upset your mother?” Zoe knew the answer to the question but wanted to hear it from her.

“I don’t know,” Skylar said. “It didn’t take much to upset my mom.”

“Maybe seeing a former boyfriend would do it?” he said.

The girl’s gaze sharpened for just an instant, and if Zoe had not been watching, she would have missed it, because on its heels came a flood of tears. Sobs now racked the girl’s body.

“Did you share details of your parents’ marriage with him?” Vaughan asked.

“I don’t know,” Skylar said. “Where’s my dad? I want to see my dad again.”

“Did you tell Jason about your mother and father?” he asked again.

“I want my dad!” More tears rushed down her face. “I want my dad. I want to see him.”

“You can’t. Not right now. You both are witnesses in the case. You two are the only ones who know what happened to your mother.”

“We’ve both told you what happened!” She sounded more agitated.

“Yes, you both did. And the stories conflict.”

“I just said I was confused.”

“About?”

“Everything.”

But father and daughter were both spinning stories that did not match all the facts. Each got portions right. Now he had to figure out why they had left pieces out.

“I’m very tired,” Skylar said. “I don’t want to talk anymore. When are they going to bury my mom?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Vaughan said.

“I miss Mom. I miss her so much.” She continued to weep.

The girl’s words were perfectly reasonable given what she had been through, but the moment felt almost identical to the one that had played out in the hospital. As if it had been rehearsed.

Mrs. Bradford, who had clearly been listening, came into the room, scowling. For a mild-mannered woman, she looked particularly fierce, as if she were a mama bear ready to defend her cub. “It’s time you both go. I know you have a job to do, but right now, this girl needs rest. She’s had a terrible shock and needs time to heal.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Zoe said. “There is so much more we need to discuss.”