I See You

by Burton, Mary

  Nothing out of the ordinary. A regular day, other than the car leaving the driveway quickly between five and six o’clock. Around five o’clock in the morning, the roads would have been easier to travel. Closer to six o’clock, and those times would have tripled.

  Vaughan asked Mrs. Pollard a few more questions but got nowhere. The stress underscoring Vaughan’s tone was growing more pronounced, and Zoe took the lead.

  “Did Hadley ever talk about her family?”

  “She mentioned that her sister died when she was a teenager. Said something about a car accident,” Mrs. Pollard said. “It’s odd that you should ask about her family. Normally, she had a bright smile on her face and a great disposition. But about a month ago, I saw her struggling with a garden hose, and she suddenly started to cry. I asked her if she was okay, and she said she’d run into someone who reminded her of her sister’s death.”

  “Did she mention a name?” Zoe asked.

  “No. In fact, it was like she caught herself and stopped talking. Next thing I knew, she was smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tuesday, August 13, 3:30 p.m.

  Alexandria, Virginia

  Just over Eight Hours after the 911 Call

  Vaughan and Spencer spent the next several hours knocking on doors and talking to the immediate neighbors. Another woman confirmed the Lexus had left well before dawn, closer to five than six. However, no one had seen anything unusual.

  Their one and only witness to whatever had happened in the Foster home was Mark Foster. Now that he’d had a few hours to rest, it was time to talk with him again. They pushed through the hospital doors and made their way to the charge nurse on the floor. She told them Foster was conscious and threatening to check out if he couldn’t talk to the cops again.

  “Well, he’s about to get his wish,” Vaughan said. He thanked the nurse, and the two walked toward his room. Vaughan stopped to speak to the uniformed officer. “Has he said anything?”

  The female cop rose from her chair and shook her head. “He yelled at the nurses about a half hour ago when they tried to give him a sedative. He refuses to turn off the television news.”

  “Any reactions to the news story?” Vaughan asked.

  She checked her phone. “We’re starting to get calls. Some say they’ve seen the two, but the few we’ve followed up have been bogus. The networks have also posted Skylar’s and Hadley’s pictures on their websites and have listed both as missing and endangered. Nikki McDonald has updated her site four times today with video footage.”

  “Has he had any visitors?” Vaughan asked the nurse.

  “A couple of reporters tried to get up to the floor, but hospital security stopped them. It is the beauty of a lockdown unit.”

  “Thanks,” Vaughan said.

  In the room, they found Foster sitting up in his bed, surfing the television channels. When Vaughan stepped inside the room, Foster shut off the television and faced them. His face was pale, and deep bags hung under bloodshot eyes. White bandages on his arm and chest stuck out from under his hospital gown.

  “Have you found my wife and daughter?” he demanded.

  “Not yet.” Vaughan watched the man closely, knowing in his gut Foster was hiding something.

  “What the hell have you been doing all morning? They’ve been gone for hours!” he shouted.

  “We’ve been searching for your wife and daughter,” Vaughan said calmly as he approached the bed.

  “But you haven’t found them!” Foster countered.

  “We found your Lexus in a cemetery off of King Street. There was no sign of your family.”

  Foster closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips into his lids as he drew in a staggering breath. “This is a nightmare. We were all supposed to fly to the Caribbean over Thanksgiving. I had just bought the tickets.”

  Vaughan and Spencer exchanged glances. It was another small detail that he could easily verify. “I spoke to Roger Dawson. Did you know your wife was having an affair with him?”

  Foster’s brows drew together, and his jaw tightened. “I knew. Hadley and I have both made mistakes in our marriage, but we got past that.”

  “Dawson said your wife was planning to leave you.” It was a pain Vaughan was familiar with, though by the time his ex-wife had decided to leave, he had been glad to see her go.

  Foster swallowed and reached for a cup of water on the bedside table beside him. He slowly sipped through a straw. “He’s lying. Hadley and I were solid.”

  “Skylar’s boyfriend said you and your wife were fighting a great deal,” Spencer said.

  Foster folded his arms, wincing as he shifted. “That boy does not know what’s going on in my house. What he’s heard is from Skylar, who doesn’t fully understand what she thinks she’s heard. Aren’t all teenage girls dramatic?”

  “If she knew her parents’ marriage was crumbling, she had a right to be upset,” Spencer said.

  “Sometimes Skylar overreacts,” Foster explained.

  Foster’s repeated use of present tense could have been wishful thinking on his part, or it could have indicated he knew more than he was saying.

  “From where I’m sitting,” Vaughan said, “I’m looking at a guy with injuries that aren’t that bad. His house and car are covered in blood, and his family is missing.”

  “What are you saying?” Foster demanded.

  “Your neighbor said she spoke to your wife recently.”

  “Which neighbor?”

  “Sarah Pollard. She said Hadley seemed upset about an encounter back in July. Hadley said the person she ran into reminded her of her sister’s death.”

  “Sarah is the neighborhood gossip, and half her stories are wrong.” He scraped his thumbnail against the side of the plastic water cup.

  “Did Hadley ever talk about her sister?” Vaughan asked.

  “Sometimes she has nightmares about Marsha, and they upset her.”

  “Did she talk about them?” Spencer asked.

  “No. Every time I brought up her sister, Hadley would shut down. I wanted her to talk to a psychologist. She wouldn’t but finally agreed to a prescription of sleeping pills.”

  “How well did you know Marsha?” Spencer asked.

  “She was a nice gal. I didn’t see her often because she was away at college.”

  “Did she date anyone that last summer?” Spencer asked.

  “I’m sure she did. Guys liked Marsha, and Larry had a lot of men working for him who thought she was attractive,” Foster said.

  “Slater said you worked part time that last summer at the Prince paving company, correct? Do you remember any of the employees’ names?”

  “Larry used a lot of day laborers. How could I possibly remember them all?”

  “Just thought your paths would have crossed,” Vaughan said.

  “I didn’t socialize with them,” Foster said.

  “Did Hadley want to return to Alexandria?” Spencer asked.

  “It took some convincing to get her to return to Alexandria last year. The area holds lots of bad memories. Why are you asking me about Marsha and my job transfer? Neither has anything to do with what happened to my family today.”

  Instead of answering, Spencer asked, “What might have triggered the recent dreams and her agitation?”

  “I don’t know.” Foster dropped his head back against his pillow.

  “Can you pinpoint the time?” Vaughan asked.

  “It was around the Fourth of July weekend.” He sounded weary, almost gutted.

  “That’s very specific.”

  “I remember because we were going to a party, and she said our cooler looked old, and we needed a new one. I told her it was fine, but she ran out to the hardware store to pick up a new one. After she got back, she didn’t say much the entire weekend.”

  Vaughan noted the date. “Maybe she was sick.”

  “It’s never good when Hadley is quiet. Something must have happened.”


  “Did you try to find out?” Spencer asked.

  “I asked her a dozen times, but she kept saying she was fine.”

  “Could she have had a stalker?” Spencer asked.

  His eyes brightened as he shook his head. “She could have. Do you think a stalker attacked us today?”

  “I don’t know,” Vaughan said. “What do you think?”

  “All I know is that I didn’t hurt my wife and daughter, if that’s what you are getting at. I love them both and would do anything to protect them. I would die for them.”

  “Even if your wife told you she was leaving?” Vaughan asked quietly. “You might not have meant to hurt her, but your temper flared. Maybe you walked out of the room to gather your temper, but as you stood in the kitchen and stared at the knives, your rage exploded. You lost it.”

  “That’s not what happened,” Foster said.

  “You grabbed a knife and stabbed your wife,” Vaughan pressed.

  “No!”

  “Your daughter must have gotten into the mix, and she had to be dealt with, too,” Vaughan said. “Did she help you get her mother to the car? Maybe you told Skylar you needed to get Hadley to the hospital?”

  “No!” Foster lurched forward and then immediately fell back against the sheets, his face contorted with pain, anger, and grief. “That is not true. I did not hurt my wife or daughter. I’ve always protected them.”

  Vaughan hadn’t worked out all the details of what had happened this morning at the Foster home, but he was certain Foster was lying about all or part of it.

  “Where are your wife and daughter now?” Spencer asked.

  “I don’t know!” Foster shouted. “I’m not saying another word until I have a lawyer.”

  Once a suspect invoked their right to legal counsel, it changed the dynamics of the conversation immediately. There were some in law enforcement who might have kept pushing at this point, but he would not. He did not want to risk a judge declaring his evidence inadmissible in court one day.

  “Your wife and daughter need you to tell the truth,” Spencer said.

  “I’m not saying another word to either of you until I have a lawyer!” Foster shouted. “Get out of my room now, or I’m calling security and having you thrown out.”

  He sat back, watching the news anchor reading off a teleprompter as Marsha’s picture appeared on the screen. Rubbing a callus on his palm, he fought back impatience as his heart beat faster. To calm himself, he closed his eyes and thought back to the girl’s blood on his hands. He drew in several deep breaths until his pulse slowed.

  The news anchor promised more details about Marsha in the coming days, but for now, she said police were focused on Hadley’s and Skylar’s disappearances. The news stations had moved on quickly to the next story.

  He was frustrated that so little attention was being paid to Marsha. She had been his first. She had opened a new world to him when she had died. That made her special. And sharing her now with the world meant something.

  Even now, Hadley had found a way to steal Marsha’s thunder. She had always been jealous of her sister and hated it when Marsha was in the limelight.

  This was all so typical of Hadley.

  Still, he took comfort in knowing the discovery of Marsha’s remains had to be eating Hadley alive. And he was glad.

  There’s a guy. Super cute. And when he flirts, he makes me forget about work, school, and everything. Not good, but what’s a girl to do?

  Marsha Prince, August 2001

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Tuesday, August 13, 6:15 p.m.

  Alexandria, Virginia

  Eleven Hours after the 911 Call

  When Zoe and Vaughan crossed the hospital lobby, a rush of frustration nudged her forward. “I want to see the Fosters’ financials. I want to know where Hadley was on Fourth of July weekend. We might get lucky and find security footage from the hardware store. Maybe we’ll get a look at who she ran into.”

  “I’ll text Hughes and see what she’s come up with so far,” he said.

  “Mark sounded a little indignant when you asked if he’d socialized with the day laborers. Easy to think he’s just a snob, but I think it’s more than that.”

  “Maybe he remembers more than he’s saying.” Vaughan’s phone dinged with a text. “Hughes has footage from the July Fourth weekend and is now keying in on the hardware store.” He typed several more lines. “She’ll search all the private security cameras around that store.”

  As he walked around his car to unlock it, she leaned against the vehicle, absorbing the heat and chasing away the hospital’s chill. “Did you see him perk up when you suggested that Hadley might have a stalker?”

  “Reminded me of a drowning man who’d just spotted a life preserver.”

  “He was quite passionate about painting himself as his family’s protector. And the pictures displayed in the Foster house suggest he did love his family very much.”

  “You chase forgers,” Vaughan said. “You know better than anyone that pictures can lie. The more I’m around that guy, the less I believe him.”

  As he opened his door, a woman said, “Detective Vaughan!”

  Vaughan slid on his sunglasses just as Zoe spotted Nikki McDonald heading toward them. “Ms. McDonald.”

  “What’s going on with Mark Foster?” Nikki asked. “My sources tell me he’s out of surgery and that he’s talking.”

  “We have no comment at this time,” Vaughan said.

  “I also understand that you found the family vehicle,” Nikki pressed.

  Reporters had their sources within the police department, but unwanted leaks always frustrated law enforcement. “No comment.”

  “Come on, guys, I’m a part of this case. I found Marsha Prince’s bones. You can’t tell me that my discovery had nothing to do with what went on in the Foster house this morning.”

  Vaughan tightened his jaw and was silent for a moment before he shook his head. “Again, I can’t comment. I have a missing woman and a teenage girl to find.”

  “I can help with that,” Nikki said. “I still have a decent social media presence. I can put the word out. Ask for tips on the women. You know most people will talk to media before the cops.”

  “Speak to the department’s public information officer, Britta Smith.”

  “Brit is great, but she’s young,” Nikki said. “She’s never worked a case that’s this high profile.”

  Zoe drew in a measured breath, knowing she would be willing to ask for help very soon if this case did not break. She sensed Vaughan, who was always pragmatic, would do the same. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ms. McDonald. But right now, I have to find Hadley and Skylar Foster.”

  As he opened his car door, she rushed to say, “I was just down in Fredericksburg. I visited with Becky Mahoney. She was having an affair with Larry Prince just before his daughter went missing.”

  Annoyance surged through Zoe. The last thing she needed was a reporter interfering in one of her cases. “What did Mahoney say?” Zoe asked.

  She locked eyes on Vaughan. “There were several guys in the shop who had a thing for Marsha.”

  “We’ve heard that,” Vaughan said.

  “Did you also hear that one of the guys went out with Hadley and Marsha?”

  “Any idea what his name is or where he is?” Zoe asked.

  “Not yet, but I’m looking for him. If I get a lead on the guy and he looks promising, I’ll give it to you. But when these two women are found, I’m collecting on what you owe me.”

  “Why are you being so generous?” Vaughan asked.

  “Getting kicked in the proverbial balls and tossed to the curb has a way of humbling your ass. Besides, whatever the hell is going on here is bigger than an evening newscast.”

  “It’s a deal,” Vaughan said.

  Zoe and Vaughan slid into the car, and the heat coiled around her now like an unwelcome wool blanket. She glanced in the rearview mirror at the reporter and watched her walking i
nto the hospital. “McDonald’s greed and self-interest is oddly refreshing.”

  “We’ll see if she sticks to her word.” He started the engine and turned up the air-conditioning.

  “A press conference would be a good move at this point,” Zoe said.

  “I know. I’m just not looking forward to the three-ring circus that will follow.”

  She understood his hesitation. Once they went public with the case’s details and asked the public for tips and leads, they would be inundated with people with bad information or who wanted their fifteen minutes of fame.

  Vaughan and Spencer crossed the marble entryway of Mark Foster’s sleek office building, located on the edge of Old Town. He punched the elevator button, and they were soon riding the car to the sixth floor.

  Vaughan had called ahead, and the receptionist quickly escorted them both back to a conference room that overlooked the historic section of the city.

  They did not have long to wait before the door opened to an older man with a thick shock of gray hair and tanned skin. “I’m Simon Davenport. I own the company. We heard what happened at the Foster house today, and none of us can believe it.”

  Vaughan shook his hand. “We’re hoping you can help us make sense of it.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “How long has Mark been with this company?”

  “Fourteen years in the Portland office, and eight months here. We were lucky he wanted to move back east. He’s one of the best forensic accountants in the business. If it’s hidden, he’ll find it.”

  “So the move was strictly job related?” Spencer asked.

  “No, he said it was a family issue. I do know he took a substantial pay cut to move back to Virginia. He’ll get a bonus at the end of the year if he performs, but in the interim, he took a financial hit.”

  “Did he complain about money issues?” Vaughan asked.

  Davenport shook his head. “He didn’t to me. But in the last few months, he’s been working a lot of overtime to close a case. It has the potential for a tremendous payout.”

  “Did he talk about his family?” Spencer asked.