“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.”

“What’s going on with Mark Foster?” Nikki asked. “My sources tell me he’s out of surgery and that he’s talking.”

“We have no comment at this time,” Vaughan said.

“I also understand that you found the family vehicle,” Nikki pressed.

Reporters had their sources within the police department, but unwanted leaks always frustrated law enforcement. “No comment.”

“Come on, guys, I’m a part of this case. I found Marsha Prince’s bones. You can’t tell me that my discovery had nothing to do with what went on in the Foster house this morning.”

Vaughan tightened his jaw and was silent for a moment before he shook his head. “Again, I can’t comment. I have a missing woman and a teenage girl to find.”

“I can help with that,” Nikki said. “I still have a decent social media presence. I can put the word out. Ask for tips on the women. You know most people will talk to media before the cops.”

“Speak to the department’s public information officer, Britta Smith.”

“Brit is great, but she’s young,” Nikki said. “She’s never worked a case that’s this high profile.”

Zoe drew in a measured breath, knowing she would be willing to ask for help very soon if this case did not break. She sensed Vaughan, who was always pragmatic, would do the same. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ms. McDonald. But right now, I have to find Hadley and Skylar Foster.”

As he opened his car door, she rushed to say, “I was just down in Fredericksburg. I visited with Becky Mahoney. She was having an affair with Larry Prince just before his daughter went missing.”

Annoyance surged through Zoe. The last thing she needed was a reporter interfering in one of her cases. “What did Mahoney say?” Zoe asked.

She locked eyes on Vaughan. “There were several guys in the shop who had a thing for Marsha.”

“We’ve heard that,” Vaughan said.

“Did you also hear that one of the guys went out with Hadley and Marsha?”

“Any idea what his name is or where he is?” Zoe asked.

“Not yet, but I’m looking for him. If I get a lead on the guy and he looks promising, I’ll give it to you. But when these two women are found, I’m collecting on what you owe me.”

“Why are you being so generous?” Vaughan asked.

“Getting kicked in the proverbial balls and tossed to the curb has a way of humbling your ass. Besides, whatever the hell is going on here is bigger than an evening newscast.”

“It’s a deal,” Vaughan said.

Zoe and Vaughan slid into the car, and the heat coiled around her now like an unwelcome wool blanket. She glanced in the rearview mirror at the reporter and watched her walking into the hospital. “McDonald’s greed and self-interest is oddly refreshing.”