by Burton, Mary
“Me neither.”
“See you in fifteen.”
When he pulled down her street right on time, she was ready, having changed into a loose pair of black pants and a simple button-up blouse. It was not fashionable, but it was all she could manage with the cast now.
When she climbed into his car, he kissed her. “You look better every day. How’s the hand?”
“Stubbornly silent. But I’m on a quarter of the pain meds now. So, progress. Have you spoken to Bud?”
He reached for a manila folder and handed it to her. “You should enjoy reading this.”
She had enough time to read through the file before Mrs. Bradford arrived with Skylar at the police station. She had retained the services of a court-appointed attorney, Tara Ellison, a tall slim woman in her early thirties.
Skylar was wearing a peach-colored top, white capris, and sandals, and she had swept her blond hair into a ponytail so like the one Hadley had worn.
“Thank you for coming, Skylar,” Zoe said.
“What is this about?” Ms. Ellison said. “Her parents’ cases are nearly closed.”
“Not quite.” Zoe opened the file Vaughan had given her.
“This entire case started with a text. Someone sent Nikki McDonald a message telling her where Marsha Prince’s remains could be found. I was able to re-create her face before she could be identified.” She flipped through pages and then pointed to a row of numbers. “I’ve spent the last couple of days trying to figure out who sent her that text. Who knew Marsha was dead?”
“I don’t know what else my client can tell you. The woman died before Skylar Foster was born,” Ms. Ellison said.
“Jason Dalton admitted that he was angry when he learned Hadley had kept his daughter from him. He strikes up a relationship with Skylar, and they texted on a secured app. Over the course of the last six months, he did a good job of stoking her frustrations. Skylar, you weren’t happy with your parents, and Jason made it worse.”
“He listened,” she said. “He was a friend.”
“I’ve had a chance to read all your exchanges with Jason. He didn’t sound like he had your best interests at heart. Your mother can be a bitch. Even her own sister hated her. Those don’t sound like supportive texts,” Zoe said.
Skylar brushed back a lock of blond hair. “It was the truth. She wasn’t the nicest person sometimes.”
“I believe that,” Zoe said. “You made a comment once that she got drunk sometimes and she talked. Did she let it slip that she felt guilty about her sister?”
“Don’t answer that, Skylar,” Ms. Ellison said.
“Did you tell Jason? We now know from the burner phones we found in his apartment that he texted Nikki McDonald the tip.”
“The text Mr. Dalton sent has nothing to do with my client,” Ms. Ellison said.
“Jason might have been trying to turn you against your parents, but you were also working him. You confided details about your mother to Jason because you were mad at her. What you didn’t realize was that you opened a bigger can of worms than you had imagined. The more you told Jason about your mother, the madder he got. You woke a sleeping monster. Did you also tell him about Veronica and your father? Is that why he killed her?”
“You can never prove this,” Ms. Ellison said.
“No, I might not,” Zoe said. “But I can prove who killed Hadley Foster.”
“Mark Foster confessed,” Mrs. Bradford said.
“He did,” Zoe said. “We found the knife he used to stab himself shoved in a planter.”
“See, that proves my point,” Ms. Ellison said.
“It wasn’t the knife that killed Hadley. But we found that knife. It was in the creek near where her body was found. We’ve been in a drought, so the waters weren’t deep. We think Mark did throw the murder weapon into the creek, thinking it would get swept away, but it didn’t. Some of the blood on the knife was washed away, but as I’ve said many times before, blood travels into all kinds of cracks and crevices.”
Skylar folded her arms over her chest.
“For whatever reason, I think your mother announced she was moving out of the house,” Zoe said. “When you reached out to Jason and brought him into your mother’s life, I think it set off a chain reaction in her mind. She needed to escape her life, and maybe she talked to Mark Foster about leaving, but he knew after the family’s move from Oregon, he couldn’t afford to leave. We know Mark was sleeping on the couch. Maybe she decided Roger Dawson was the guy to take her away.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Skylar said.
“Whatever the reason, Hadley said she told Mark she was leaving. Did they have a fight after we told her Marsha’s body had been found?”
Skylar didn’t speak but simply stared at Zoe.
“You lost your temper. You were waiting for her when she came back from her morning run. And I think you two fought. Maybe you tried to reason with her. Maybe you tried to convince her that Jason wasn’t a bad guy. Whatever the reason, I bet you didn’t want your life upended again.”
“I liked living here,” Skylar said.
Zoe nodded. “But you didn’t convince her, and she left you in the kitchen. That’s when you grabbed the knife from the butcher block and followed her upstairs and stabbed her. Your father realized what had happened, but he was too late to save Hadley, so he tried to fix it. He put you and your mother in the car and dropped you at the motel. He gave you sleeping pills to keep you quiet while he dumped your mother’s body and then parked near your motel. He showered in your room and ran home. He stabbed himself and at 7:00 a.m. called 911 and reported the attack from the intruder.”
“That’s a nice story,” Skylar said. “But I loved my mom. I never would have hurt her.”
“I don’t think you planned it. But I think you snapped when she said she was leaving, and your temper got the better of you.”
“No,” Skylar said.
“When you stab someone, your hand gets slick with blood.” Zoe held up her left hand and slowly flexed the fingers. “And if you aren’t careful, the blade can slip. It’s not uncommon for the attacker to cut themselves and leave their own blood on the knife or, in this case, in the handle’s crevices.”
“I use that knife at home all the time,” Skylar said. “I’ve cut my hand on it before. And my dad confessed. He left a note and everything.”
“Mark did it to protect you. Jason might have tried to convince you otherwise, but in Mark Foster’s mind, you were his little girl. I wonder if he knew all along that the baby Hadley was carrying wasn’t his. I think that’s why they moved out west. He would have kept you both in Oregon if not for the trouble you got into. The only reason he came back here was because of the job. Maybe he thought the past was over and done, and you three could live a happy life here now.”
Tears welled in the young girl’s eyes. “No.”
“And then you test your DNA and show up at Jason’s garage. He knew from the moment he met you he would use you to get back at Hadley. Maybe he didn’t know how, but he figured sooner or later, he could turn you against your mother.”
Her shoulders drew back as she inhaled. “No. Jason wouldn’t do that. And I did love my mom.”
“We now have DNA evidence that proves Jason stabbed to death Veronica Manchester and Galina Grant. Both the women look very much like your mother, and we think he was using them as surrogates.”
For the first time, the defiance burning in the girl’s gaze cooled. “Jason wouldn’t do that.”
“He did do that. I can’t prove it, but I also think he killed your mother’s sister, Marsha. Cops didn’t take a hard look at him because he’d quit his job at Prince Paving and moved away.”
“You are lying,” Skylar whispered.
“Jason knew Mark was having an affair with Veronica. I’m not sure why he killed her. Maybe because he knew her death would eventually cast suspicion on Mark, or maybe she just looked so much like Hadley he couldn’t resi
st. And Galina Grant was just an easy target who had the misfortune to be Jason’s type.”
“Jason isn’t a monster. I’m not a monster. I loved my mother.”
“I have no doubt you loved your mother,” Zoe said. “And I bet if you could take back those few moments when you stabbed her, you would.”
Skylar looked as if she would say something, but then her face hardened in a way that reminded Zoe of Jason. “No, you’re wrong. I wouldn’t take it back.”
The girl was still very young and had suffered multiple traumas. She could live to regret those words. And then Zoe reminded herself that Jason hadn’t been much older than Skylar when he’d killed Marsha.
Vaughan rose. “Skylar Foster, you have the right to remain silent.”
EPILOGUE
Monday, September 16, 3:00 p.m.
The house had a lighter feel, as if for the first time in a decade, it had taken a deep breath. Zoe stood in the living room, arranging the furniture she had had reupholstered while a crew had stripped the old wallpaper, painted the walls a soft gray, and buffed the wood floors. Remodeling the living room and her bedroom certainly was not a complete renovation, but she could tackle the rooms bit by bit.
Her front doorbell rang, and she glanced out the window to see Vaughan. She smiled. It had been a week since they had seen each other, and she realized how much she had missed him.
She opened the door, and he leaned in and gave her a kiss with the kind of familiarity shared by close couples. “This is a nice surprise,” she said.
“I had DNA results I wanted to share with you.”
“How romantic.” She laughed.
“I thought you’d be impressed.” He stepped into the room and kissed her again.
Smiling, she stepped back. “What do you think of the room?”
He nodded with approval. “This looks great.”
“Crews just left yesterday, and the furniture was returned this morning. Now I just have to figure out what to do with it all.”
“I can help.”
“I could use the extra muscle.”
“How’s the arm?”
“Still sore. But better.” She flexed her fingers. “It’s getting better each day. How was parents’ weekend?”
“Nate is doing really well. I also think he has a girlfriend.”
She removed two cold sodas and handed one to him. “Good for him.”
“As long as his grades don’t suffer.” He popped the top of the soda.
“Spoken like a dad.” Vaughan’s dedication to his son was one of his qualities she admired most.
“I’d like you to meet him.”
“That would be nice.”
“He’ll be home the week of Thanksgiving.”
She crossed her fingers. “Barring a case, so will I.”
“Nate’s used to holiday dinners being delayed for a case. If you can be flexible that week, we’ll make it work.”
She wanted to make it work. “Then we will.”
He kissed her lips softly. “Can I tempt you with those DNA results now?”
“You know how to charm a girl.”
He took another pull on the soda can. “I reached out to Andrea Jamison in the FBI’s ViCAP division. I kept going back to a point you and Dr. Baldwin made about Veronica and Galina’s killer.”
“We thought he was comfortable with killing.”
“Exactly.”
“What did you discover?”
“I provided Andrea—Andy, as she likes to be called—with Dalton’s approximate locations over the last couple of years and asked if there were blond women who had been stabbed in or near those areas. I asked her to key in on sex workers. Turns out Andy is good at tracking patterns.”
“And?”
“She found ten cases that fit the criteria.”
“Ten murders.” In all honesty, she was surprised the number was not higher, given the rate of this summer’s killing spree. “Was DNA collected on any of the cases?”
“Most of the bodies were too degraded, but there was DNA collected on two. They had been submitted for testing, but with the backlog in the local lab, they hadn’t been analyzed yet.”
“And now?”
“One was a match to Jason Dalton.”
“Really?” She felt no satisfaction knowing her theory had been proven.
“I suspect some of the other victims were his as well, but we may never know,” he said. “The consolation is that he won’t be killing any more women.”
“What about Skylar? Is she going to be charged with Hadley Foster’s murder?” Zoe asked.
“There is talk of filing manslaughter charges, but there’s little political will to prosecute Skylar.”
“The girl is a natural manipulator like Jason.” Zoe was not happy, but she also saw the logic. “The cops have a confession from Mark, which, true or not, carries a great deal of weight with the courts. Do you think he killed himself?”
“He might have. Mark loved Skylar, and he wanted to protect her. He knew she’d killed Hadley, and he figured the only way to help her was to take the blame himself.”
Foster had simply been trying to do right by his wife and daughter, as he always had. “That doesn’t explain how Hadley’s blood got on Skylar.”
“Skylar’s attorney said she had been trying to save her mother after the father’s attack.”
“Did you see the interview the girl gave with Nikki McDonald?” she asked.
“I did. Skylar has the face of an angel.” He flicked his finger against the can’s tab.
Zoe shook her head. “Do you think she’ll do it again?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said. “The girl is missing an emotional chip.”
The apple did not fall far from her biological father’s tree. “Mrs. Bradford and her son, Neil, are standing behind her.”
“Sleep with an open eye,” Vaughan cautioned.
“I feel like we lost this one.”
He took her soda can from her, set it beside his on the kitchen counter, and then pulled her into his arms. “Jason is dead. He’s not going to kill any more women. We take the victories where we can.” He kissed her on the mouth.
She leaned into the kiss, savoring the touch of his lips.
“And we can enjoy what we have together,” he said.
Her life as a dancer and then as a wife to Jeff had ended forever. There was no going back. But she was still an FBI agent, and not only was she good at what she did, but she liked it.
And there was Vaughan. With him, a new door had opened to new possibilities. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t desperate to recapture what she’d had. She was ready to step through this new door and see what waited for her.
“I like that idea very much,” she said.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Studio FBJ
New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist Mary Burton is the popular author of thirty-five romance and suspense novels as well as five novellas. She currently lives in Virginia with her husband and three miniature dachshunds. Visit her at www.maryburton.com.
