I See You (Criminal Profiler #2)(81)

Jewel’s plate was empty when she said, “What’s your first question?”

“Tell me about your last moments with Galina,” Spencer said.

Jewel’s brow knotted. “How is that going to help?”

“Trust me,” Spencer said.

“We had been up all night working a party. Not a fancy one, but it was at a hotel that had a conference of insurance men. Galina and I were in a great mood because we’d made good money.”

“Where was the hotel?” Spencer asked.

She rattled off the name and address. “Nothing real fancy.”

“What was it like when you two stepped outside?”

“Hot. But the heat felt good. We’d been inside for over twenty-four hours, and the air-conditioning was on full blast. The bright sun and fresh air was nice.”

“What time of day was this?” Spencer asked.

“About noon on Sunday.”

“What did you two do next?” she asked.

“She wanted to order a pizza. I wanted to go to bed, but we shared a ride to Gino’s. We hugged, and she said she would come back to our room soon.”

“And when did the man approach?” she asked.

“He stopped as she was walking up to the front door of Gino’s. I saw him show her a roll of cash. I heard her tell him she wanted pizza, and he gave her money to buy it. When he turned to get in his car to wait for her, I saw his face for a second.”

“Was he tall, thin, fat?”

“Lean. He wore jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, and a hat.”

“Did the hat cover his hair?”

“No, I saw some of it around his ears. It was dark.”

“Was his face round or slim?”

“Slim.” Absently, she brushed her fingers over her chin, as if remembering. “He wore a ball cap and dark sunglasses. Like the ones pilots wear.”

“Aviator sunglasses?”

“Yes.”

Spencer drew the narrow face of a man with a hat. “What about his mouth?”

Jewel’s phone dinged with a text, and she looked down, her brow knotting. “I can’t stay much longer.”

Spencer asked as her pencil hovered over the paper, “Were his lips full or thin?”

“Thin.” Jewel typed a text.

“Was his nose wide or narrow?”

“Kind of in between.” She slid across the booth. “I can’t stay. I got to go.”

“Can I have your phone number?” Vaughan said as Spencer continued to draw. “I want to keep in touch.”

Jewel glanced at the picture. “His nose was wider at the base. And his lips were twisted up in a kind of smile.”

“Excellent,” Spencer said as she modified what she had drawn.

Jewel rose. “I have your number. I’ll call when I can. We can keep trying.”

“When?” Vaughan asked.

“Soon. I promise.” The girl hoisted her purse on her shoulder and darted out of the restaurant.

He sat back, frustrated, wondering if they had just been played for a meal or if Jewel had really seen Galina’s attacker. “What do you think?”

Spencer laid the sketch on the table. “Have a look for yourself.”

He looked at the angled jaw of a man wearing sunglasses and a hat. “Nondescript and unusable.”

“I usually spend hours, not minutes, with a witness. Give me some time later tonight, and maybe I can refine this a little.”

“I can leak it to the media that we have a sketch,” he said.

“It was a hot day,” she said. “Someone might have noticed him, and if you can find any surveillance footage, I can use elements of the images to create a full picture if none capture his entire face.”

“Lots of limited options.” Vaughan received a text from Hughes. Pollard arrived at the station. Foster has recanted. Claims medications confused him. He showed it to Spencer. And then read Hughes’s next text. “Pollard heard from Neil’s mother about Skylar. He’s now arguing that we coerced Foster’s confession.”

“He came to us,” Spencer said.

“Pollard claims we lured him to the station on the pretense we had information about his daughter. Pain and stress, coupled with those medications, jumbled his client’s thoughts, and nothing he says is admissible.”

“I’ve seen some clever legal maneuvering over the years, but that is one of the best.”

“He’ll be out in less than an hour.”

“That’ll give us a chance to speak to Skylar before he can catch up with her and they can get their stories straight.”



Zoe and Vaughan arrived at the emergency room and made their way through the maze of curtained-off exam rooms, toward the uniformed officer who stood outside of Skylar’s room.

“Let me talk to her alone,” Zoe said. “I want to ask her about the man who attacked her mother. I’m curious how much detail she can provide.”

“Sure.”

Zoe pushed back the curtains and found the young girl lying in bed. She was hooked up to an IV, and her hand had been bandaged. She had the channel selector in her other hand and was flipping through channels every other second.

“Skylar,” Zoe said. “How are you doing?”