by Burton, Mary
“You were close enough for him to slash your palm. Do you remember what he smelled like?”
Her nose wrinkled. “He didn’t smell good.”
“What did the knife look like?” Zoe asked.
“It was from our kitchen. Mom uses it to cut meat all the time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” The girl looked up at Zoe, her eyes clearing and getting sharper. “Where is my mom? Is she in the hospital?”
There was no more avoiding the answer. “Skylar, your mother is dead. I’m sorry, but she didn’t survive her injuries.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Mom cannot be dead. She can’t.”
“I’m sorry.” The girl leaned toward Zoe, needing a hug. Zoe wrapped her arms around her. Sobs racked the girl’s body.
When Skylar finally drew back, her eyes were puffy and red.
“I want to see my dad,” Skylar said.
“Do you have any other friends and family you can stay with?” Zoe asked.
“No. Why can’t I stay with my dad?”
“Because your father confessed to killing your mother.”
The girl shook her head with a force that rang true. “My father didn’t kill my mother. He loved her. There was another man in the room who killed Mom.”
“Why would he confess?”
“I don’t know.”
The complicated relationship of the Fosters was not a subject she wanted to press with this young girl, but now was the optimal time, when defenses were not erected and the truth had a way of slipping out. “When is the last time you saw Roger Dawson?”
Skylar blinked. “I don’t know. Mom trains with him at the gym. Why would he be at our house?”
“What about Jason Dalton?”
The girl’s eyes widened for an instant and then narrowed. She was calculating, measuring her words now. “Jason.”
“Jason. You have dinner with him at least once a week. He works at a garage in Arlington.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen your messages you sent through an app on your phone.”
“It’s password protected.”
“Jessica remembered your old password.”
Her brows wrinkled. “I forgot I told her.”
“Why were you meeting with Jason?” she asked.
“My dad is Mark Foster, and he loves me and would do anything for me. Jason is my biological father,” she said.
“How did you find out about Jason?”
“I found a picture of him and Mom.”
“What picture?”
“I’d never seen it before. Someone mailed it to Mom, I think.” The girl’s eyes sharpened. “Jason didn’t kill Mom, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“How can you be sure? You said you didn’t see the attacker’s face.”
“I know Jason wouldn’t do that.” The girl stepped toward Zoe, her fists clenched. “I want out of here now. I want to see my dad.” The last words shrieked across the room, and seconds later, the door snapped open.
Zoe had pressed this interview as far as she could. “Okay.”
Vaughan stood at the threshold. “The ambulance is here.”
“I want to see my dad,” Skylar said. “I don’t need to see a doctor. Dad didn’t kill Mom. I need to see him.”
“First, the paramedics have to check you out,” Zoe said. “Then we’ll arrange for you to see your father.”
“Where is Neil?” the girl demanded. “I want to see Neil.”
Vaughan jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward the marked cars and the flashing lights. “Sitting in the back of one of the squad cars, waiting for his mother.”
“Why? He didn’t do anything,” Skylar protested. “None of this is his fault. Why are you punishing him?”
Zoe didn’t let the girl maneuver past her. “He should have told us you were here.”
Skylar pushed around Zoe but halted when she came face to face with Vaughan standing in the doorway. “He wanted to call you right away, but I begged him to come to me first! I was scared and hungry and just needed a little time.”
“Neil is going to be fine. For now, let the paramedics check your hand,” he said, undaunted.
She curled the fingers of her right hand into a fist. “And then can I see my dad?”
“We’ll see,” Vaughan said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Wednesday, August 14, 7:00 p.m.
Alexandria, Virginia
Thirty-Six Hours after the 911 Call
The ambulance carrying Skylar Foster whisked away, leaving Vaughan and Spencer standing on the sidewalk outside the motel room. Vaughan had given the forensic team the bag containing Skylar’s clothes and shoes he had retrieved from the dumpster. The forensic team was now also in possession of the burner phone Skylar had used to text Neil. She had not said how she’d obtained it, but the expectation was that once they had analyzed it, they would know more.
Vaughan had spoken to the motel office clerk and had learned a man had appeared yesterday in his office with a ball cap on his head, wearing a thick overcoat. When asked if he had been suspicious about the man, the clerk had shrugged. He got all types of nutcases here.
Neil’s mother had arrived on the scene. She had been upset and had had no idea why her son would keep such secrets from her. Vaughan had advised her that the boy was not facing charges yet. That could all change in the next few minutes.
“Neil doesn’t strike me as the aggressive kind,” Spencer said as she watched Mrs. Bradford’s Volvo drive off. “If anything, he takes his marching orders from Skylar. Did you notice how he kept looking to her, as if for guidance?”
“I did. He just about lost it when I opened the back of the squad car. He kept asking about Skylar, as if he couldn’t function without her.”
“What about Mark Foster?” Spencer asked. “Why would he lie about killing his wife and daughter if he knew the girl was alive? It was a matter of time before we realized he was lying.”
“Maybe that’s all he wanted—time.”
“For what?” Spencer asked.
“I’m not sure yet. First, I want to know if his prints are in that motel room.”
“You think he stashed his daughter there?”
“I do,” Vaughan said.
“Neil said she was groggy. Do you think Foster drugged her?”
“Blood test will tell us that,” he said. “But it would make sense. It would have kept her quiet. Again, he was buying time. We need to get to the hospital. I know the press will be there in force soon, if they aren’t already there.”
“They can’t get to the kid while she’s being looked at, correct?” Spencer asked.
“I’ve posted two uniforms outside her room. That should hold off even Nikki McDonald. We’ve got about twenty minutes. Let’s grab a bite to eat. We’re going to need it.” His phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but he had handed his card out so much during his investigations he knew he should answer. “Detective Vaughan.”
Silence crackled over the line, but he could hear breathing.
“This is Detective Vaughan. Who is this?”
Spencer shifted her attention to him, her head cocked as she waited.
“This is Jewel.”
The voice was soft and sounded as if it belonged to a young woman. “What can I do for you, Jewel?”
“I was a friend of Galina’s.”
“Galina.” He watched Spencer’s gaze soften. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“We tried to have each other’s backs. I let her down.”
“How did you get my card, Jewel?”
“One of the girls you talked to knows Galina. We’re friends.”
“What can I do for you, Jewel?” he asked.
“I saw her on Sunday. I saw the car she got into before she vanished.”
Tension rippled through him. “Did you get a good look at the driver?”
“I did.”
He beckon
ed Spencer forward. “Would you sit down and talk to someone who might draw a picture of him?”
More silence.
“Galina seemed like a sweet kid,” he said. “And she was too damn young to die.”
“I’m working in a motel off of Telegraph Road. There’s a diner across the street.”
“We’ll meet you there right now.”
Another sigh and a sob. “Okay. Fifteen minutes, but I can’t stay more than a half hour, or I’ll get in trouble.”
“We’ll make it work.” As he and Spencer hurried to his car, he explained.
“I have a pad and pencil in my bag. I’ll be able to get some kind of sketch.”
He started the engine and pulled onto the busy side street. The lights of the city passed, and headlights up ahead blurred into a long red line.
Spencer rubbed her eyes. She shifted in her seat. She looked tired, but like him, she would keep going until they had cracked this case.
He found the diner Jewel had described. The lot was crowded, and when they entered, most of the booths were filled.
Spencer nodded toward a lone girl in the far-right corner. “I bet that’s her.”
“She looks like she’s a kid.”
“Most of these girls are in their teens.” She moved down the row of booths to the back of the diner. “Jewel?”
The girl shifted and looked at Spencer and then him. “Detective Vaughan?”
“That’s me. Can we sit?”
“Yeah.”
Spencer flagged a waitress and ordered three burgers and sodas before she slid into the booth next to Vaughan. “I know I could eat, and I bet you could, too, Jewel.”
The girl clasped her hands together and leaned forward a fraction, as if she could bolt out of the booth at any second. “I’m hungry.”
The waitress appeared with the three sodas and set them on the table. “Burgers will be right up.”
Jewel took a long pull of her drink and seemed to relax a fraction. “Thanks.”
“We appreciate you talking to us,” Vaughan said. “We’re going to need help if we’re going to figure out who killed Galina.”
Jewel dropped her gaze to her soda and took another long pull on the straw. “No one is going to remember she was a nice person. They won’t think past what she had to do to live.”
“I want people to know she mattered,” Vaughan said.
Spencer set her untouched glass of soda in front of the girl and then removed a small sketch pad and pencil from her bag. “Maybe if you can talk to me a little about her last customer, I can draw a picture of his face.”
Jewel studied the blank paper. “You can do that?”
“I’m pretty good at it.”
“I don’t remember that many details,” Jewel said. “I only saw him once for just a few seconds.”
“Don’t worry about that. Why don’t I just ask you a few questions. We might be able to figure out what he looked like together. You want to give it a try?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Before Spencer could ask the first question, the burgers arrived, and for several minutes, the three sat at the table, eating. He and Spencer were hungry, and he suspected the girl was starving, as she quickly crammed a handful of french fries in her mouth. He watched as she squirted extra ketchup on her burger and then took a big bite.
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?”
The girl did not take her gaze off the screen. “I want to get out of here and go home.”
“You can’t go home,” she said. “They’ll be releasing you in the morning. When you do leave, would you be willing to stay at the Bradford house?”
She drew in a breath. “Yes. I like the Bradfords. They’re normal.”
“And your family was not,” Zoe countered.
“Yeah, you could say that,” the girl said.
“Why’s that?”
Blue eyes glinted. “My mother was stabbed to death. Duh.”
“Before the stabbing,” Zoe said. “What wasn’t right about your family?”
“Both my parents were cheating on each other. That’s kind of sick. They said they loved each other, but they couldn’t have. I love Neil and would never cheat on him.”
“He seems devoted to you.”
She clicked the channel selector through several more stations. “He is devoted to me. We love each other. We would die for each other.”
“Tell me about your boyfriend back in Oregon,” Zoe said.
Skylar glared at her for a split second. “George was a nice guy.”
“Then why did you try to hurt him?”
“No,” she said. “It was an accident. I was confused.”
It was the argument that Mark Foster was now using. “Is that why your family moved to Alexandria?”
“My dad got a job transfer.”
Zoe reached for the channel selector and took it from the girl’s hand. She turned off the television. “What do you remember about yesterday?”
“I heard my mother screaming, and I came out of my bedroom. I saw him stab my mother.”
“I want to see my daughter!” Mark Foster’s voice boomed from the hallway. “You cannot keep me from my child!”
Skylar sat up straight and tried to get out of her bed, but her IV stopped her. “Daddy! I’m in here!”
