I See You (Criminal Profiler #2) - Mary Burton Page 0,59

the cops always assume the spouse did it. And I know that you see me as a suspect.”

“We’re here to find your family,” Vaughan said.

“Your agenda is to close a case,” Pollard said.

Spencer paid keen attention to Foster, as if she did not want to miss a second of his reactions. “Sir, we found a woman’s body in a dumpster an hour ago.”

Foster stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment, as if searching. Finally, he blinked and shook his head. “It can’t be Hadley or Skylar.”

Vaughan noted a sense of surety he had not expected. “Why do you say that?”

Foster leveled his gaze on Vaughan and, with a true sense of certainty, said, “Because Hadley cannot be dead. And Skylar has to be okay.”

Vaughan had interviewed murderers who could look back on their own deeds in genuine disbelief. This was particularly true when the crime was intertwined with passion. The killer acted rashly and quickly and then, within minutes, could not believe what they had done.

But what struck him was a level of confidence that a man in his position just should not have.

“Were you able to make a solid visual identification of the body you found?” Pollard asked.

“Not yet,” Spencer lied.

There was nothing in the rule book that said a cop could not lie to a suspect. “Animals got ahold of the body,” Vaughan added.

The visual triggered more tears in Foster’s eyes. They flowed down his flushed cheeks, and his hands trembled as if a chill coursed through his body. “My poor girls,” he said. “They didn’t deserve any of this. Our family was so close.”

But it hadn’t been. He’d been having an affair, and so had Hadley.

“Mr. Foster,” Spencer said, “can you describe the man who broke into your house this morning?”

“I already have.”

“Yes, sir, but can you do it again for me?”

A sigh shuddered through him. “I don’t want to remember him.”

Vaughan was certain if the shoe were on the other foot, he would be moving heaven and earth to remember key details.

“Mr. Foster,” Spencer said, “let’s start at the beginning. You were taking the recycling out.”

“Yes.”

“Your recycling bin was still in the backyard,” she said.

“Then it was the trash,” he said. “Tomorrow is trash day, and I knew I wouldn’t have time.”

She didn’t argue but prompted him with, “You exited the house via the back door with the trash?”

“I started out the front door when I remembered the trash. I was in a rush and left it open as I hurried out the back.”

“What happened next?” Spencer asked.

“I heard a scream.”

“Your daughter’s scream?” she asked.

“No. My wife. I raced upstairs, and there was a man in our room, holding a knife to her neck.”

“What was your wife wearing?” she asked.

“Her purple workout tank and shorts.”

Vaughan knew what Spencer was doing. She was peppering Foster with questions that he should remember easily if he was telling the truth.

“You said she’d already showered that morning,” she said.

“She was going to the gym,” Foster said.

“And your daughter?” she pressed. “Where was she again?”

“She was in another room.”

“What room?” she asked.

“Her own. What does it matter where Skylar was?”

“It matters,” Spencer said.

“You don’t have to answer these questions, Mark,” Pollard said. “The cops are fishing. And they’re trying to trip you up on details. They are building a case against you.”

More tears streamed down his face. “Skylar is such a good kid. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“No, sir, she doesn’t,” Vaughan said.

Pollard laid his hand on Foster’s shoulder. “You need to take a break.”

“Your wife and daughter don’t have time,” Vaughan said.

“Detective Vaughan, would you step outside with me?” Spencer said. Spencer’s frustration bubbled under her blank expression.

“Sure.”

He followed her out of the house, and when the two were outside, she crossed to the Fosters’ fence and opened it. She walked directly to the trash can and raised the lid. It was half-full.

“Doesn’t look like it was trash day either,” she said.

“No, it does not.”

“Foster is lying,” she said.

“Divorces and children are expensive.”

“With them both gone, it would clear the decks for a new life.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But we also have a potentially troubled kid who wasn’t afraid to push the boundaries and could have brought all this upon her family.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tuesday, August 13, 10:00 p.m.

Alexandria, Virginia

Fifteen Hours after the 911 Call

It was as if Zoe had opened the puzzle box and dumped all the pieces onto a table. She had all she needed to create the picture featured on the box cover, but she had no idea