I See You (Criminal Profiler #2) - Mary Burton Page 0,38
asked.
“No. She never talks about Marsha. I learned a long time ago not to bring up the subject of her sister.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “She and Marsha didn’t always get along, and I think Hadley always felt guilty about that.”
“Why did you move to Oregon after Marsha vanished?”
“I was accepted to Oregon State, and we needed to get out of this area. My parents offered to help us out, so we took it. Once Skylar was born out there, it started to feel like home.”
“And then you came back here,” Vaughan said.
Foster swallowed. “It was a chance for a better job. We thought enough time had passed, and the past had been forgotten.”
“Was it?”
“I thought it was. But Hadley started having trouble sleeping again.” He shook his head. “I don’t see what this has to do with today.”
The curtains slid back quickly, and a nurse appeared. Frowning, she crossed to Foster’s bedside and checked his vitals and IV. “Officers, it’s time to wrap this up.”
“We have a few more questions,” Vaughan said.
“They’re going to have to wait,” the nurse replied.
“I don’t mind answering their questions,” Foster said.
“This is not about what you want, sir. It’s about what you need. This interview is ending for now. The detectives can come back in a few hours.”
Hours. Not much time in the grand scheme, but for a kidnapping investigation, it often was the difference between a rescue and a recovery. “We’ll be back soon.”
Foster grabbed Vaughan’s arm. “Find my family.”
“Get some rest.”
As Foster’s arm dropped to the crisp white sheets, Spencer shot Vaughan a look but said nothing until the two were alone in the elevator. “We should have pressed harder.”
He punched the lobby button. “He provided a generic description at best.”
“High-adrenaline moments can blur details. Given a little more time, I can drill below the confusion. I can create a workable sketch.”
“You can try. But I bet you end up with a sketch of an everyman.”
“You don’t believe him?” Spencer asked.
“It’s the intangibles. The lame description. The minor injuries. The way he gripped my arm.”
Her eyes lifted to his. “I’ve seen killers do that. They reach out to a detective either directly or through the media, because whatever they know is bubbling up inside of them, but they can’t yet bring themselves to do it.”
“Often our bodies react more truthfully than our words.”
Spencer pursed her lips. “True.”
“It sickens me, but I think he killed his family.”
As much as Vaughan had disliked his crazy ex-wife, it had never occurred to him to kill her. And when she had been sick with cancer, he had taken vacation time and seen to it that Nate had visited her.
But motives for murder could be as complicated as they were very simple. He had seen people murdered for as little as fifteen dollars or a small traffic slight.
The elevator doors opened, silencing his response. They crossed the crowded lobby toward the exit and then to his car. “Let me check in with Hughes. The Fosters’ financials and phone records are going to tell us more than Mark Foster.”
“Okay.” They both got into his vehicle.
He dialed the station, and Hughes picked up on the second ring. “You’re on speakerphone,” he said. “I’m here with Agent Spencer.”
“Understood,” Hughes said.
“Any word on the Fosters’ 2017 Lexus and the phones?” Vaughan asked.
“You must be psychic. Just heard from the OnStar people. Hadley’s car was located at a cemetery about five miles from the Foster house. No sign of either victim, but a uniform has secured the scene, and the forensic team is en route.”
“What about the mother’s and daughter’s phones?” Spencer asked.
“The daughter’s phone was found under her bed. It was on silent mode. The mother’s device pinged to the exact location of the car,” Hughes said.
“I want to see that car,” Vaughan said. “We can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“The forensic team should be there by then,” Hughes said.
“Thanks, Hughes,” he said. “You know the drill. Call me if you have anything.”
“Will do,” Hughes said.
Vaughan hung up. “Ride with me.”
“Sure.”
He started the car and maneuvered out of the parking lot. A red light caught them a block from the hospital.
“The assailant breaks into the Foster house, stabs Mr. and Mrs. Foster, and then escapes with both an injured woman and a hysterical teenager.”
“And no one hears or sees anything?” she asked, incredulously. “Odds are Hadley and Skylar are already dead.”
“I want to disagree, but I think you are right.”
“The facts point that way the longer the search continues.”