“Did he speak at this time?” Spencer asked.

“He said he’d kill my wife if I moved. I wanted to tear his head off, but Hadley was crying and begging me to stand down.”

“Your daughter should have been out of the shower and dressed by then,” Vaughan said.

“She was.”

“Why didn’t Skylar call 911?” Vaughan asked.

“I don’t know. I guess she didn’t have her phone with her,” he said.

“A teenager without a phone?” Spencer asked. “That’s not very common these days.”

“I guess it was in her room,” Foster said.

Spencer said nothing, but the slow intake of breath told him she was not convinced. It was possible Skylar had not had her phone, but the phone records Hughes had already requested would give them a better idea of when and if she had been using the device that morning.

“What happened next?” Vaughan asked.

“He shoved my wife into the hallway, and she nearly stumbled onto my daughter as Skylar burst out of her room. He ordered them both to walk down the stairs and out the garage door.”

The assailant had entered through the front door yet was leaving through a different exit. It would be risky to take two captives over new ground unless he’d been watching the house before the attack.

“Both my wife and daughter were screaming,” Foster said. “I followed them down the stairs and, in a moment of desperation, lunged for the man. That’s when he stabbed me.”

“You were found collapsed at the front door,” Vaughan said.

“I saw my car pull out of the driveway through the front window. My daughter was driving the car, and that monster was in the back seat with the knife to my wife’s neck.” Again, he closed his eyes. “The look on Skylar’s face was pure terror.”

“You were able to see all that?” Vaughan asked.

“Yes. Those moments will be burned in my brain forever.” He shook his head. “I should have saved them. I shouldn’t have let him order me around.”

“You made a difficult split-second decision in a very stressful situation.”

“I should have been stronger. But I got so dizzy and dropped to my knees.”

“You called 911,” Spencer said.

“I pressed the emergency button on my phone before I passed out,” Foster said.

Vaughan scribbled key phrases on his notepad. “There was a huge bloodstain in your bedroom. Whose blood was that?”

Foster’s gaze froze for a moment. “My wife’s, I guess.”

“You guess?” Vaughan asked. “It was a lot of blood.”

“The man must have stabbed her right before I entered the room.”

“And you didn’t notice your wife bleeding out?” Spencer asked.

“Sure. I saw blood. But it all happened so damn fast,” Foster insisted. “I’m having trouble remembering the details.”

Vaughan was silent for a moment. “Has anyone made threats against you or your family before today?”

“No.”

“Have you seen anyone hanging around the house?” he asked.

“No.”

“Does your wife have any enemies?” Spencer asked.

“No! There were no red flags! I don’t know who this guy was or why he came after us.” Foster’s face had paled, and the heart rate monitor spiked.

“How did your wife react to our visit yesterday?” Vaughan asked.

“She was a wreck,” he said.

“Did she talk about her sister?” Spencer 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.