I See You (Criminal Profiler #2) - Mary Burton Page 0,52
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.”