Vaughan removed his badge, holding it steady, and then introduced himself. “I need an update on Mark Foster.”
She checked her computer, frowning as she juggled the restrictions of the HIPAA regulations and a cop’s request. “Let me check with a nurse.”
Vaughan tucked his badge back in his pocket. “Thanks.”
He turned to find Spencer staring at the television with great interest. Curious, he walked toward her and realized she was watching a segment on brain aneurysms.
When she realized he had crossed the room to her, she shrugged and turned from the television. “My husband died from one.”
“I’m sorry.” She was still grieving for her dead husband. He shouldn’t care that he was competing with a ghost, but he did.
She rolled her head from side to side, releasing the tension in her shoulders. “Thanks.”
Double doors pushed open, and a young nurse wearing green scrubs appeared. After spotting Vaughan and Spencer, she strode toward them. “You’re here for Mr. Foster?”
“That’s right. Is he conscious yet?” Vaughan asked.
“We never had to put him under. We were able to stitch him up using only a local,” the nurse said.
“I thought he was badly injured,” Vaughan said.
“He was covered in a great deal of blood, but once we got him up to surgery, we discovered that the three wounds weren’t life threatening.”
“Where was he injured?” Vaughan asked.
“He was stabbed in the upper left arm and on the left side of his abdomen. They were nasty gashes. There was also a gash on his right arm.”
“We’d like to see him now,” Spencer said.
“Follow me.” The nurse swiped her badge, and the three made their way down the wide hallway of the emergency room, past nurses and doctors who were darting in and out of curtained exam rooms. Beeping monitors blended with the sound of rattling wheels on a cart.
“How alert is he?” Spencer asked.
“Very,” the nurse said. “He refused any kind of sedative other than the local. He’s insisting on staying awake until he knows what happened to his wife and child.”
“It’s important that the media not talk to him right now,” Vaughan said.
“This is a lockdown unit,” the nurse said.
“Good,” Vaughan said. “We want to control all the information disseminated to the public until Hadley and Skylar Foster are located.”
“I understand. I will remind hospital security of the extra protocol.”
The nurse walked to the end of the hallway, toward a uniformed police officer who stood outside a cubicle. The officer nodded to Vaughan and Spencer as the nurse pushed back the curtain.
Mark Foster lay in his bed, his eyes closed and his hands at his sides. He was hooked up to an IV and a monitor that beeped steadily. The shades over the window were drawn, and a nurse stood by his bed, checking his vitals.
“If you don’t mind giving us the room,” Vaughan said. “We’d like to talk to Mr. Foster.”
Foster immediately opened his eyes, and he looked around, slightly wild eyed, first at his nurse and then at Vaughan and Spencer. “Have you found them? Please tell me you’ve found them?”
Vaughan approached him and waited for the nurse to leave the room before he sat by the bed. “We have not found your wife and daughter yet.”
Foster closed his eyes, wiping away tears as he shook his head. “You’ve got to find them. They’re my family. My life.”
“I understand you’re upset,” Vaughan said. “And we are doing everything we can.”
“How can you understand what I’m going through?” he said. “I’ve been gutted.”
The man’s furrowed brow, watery eyes, and trembling bottom lip told the story of a man who had suffered a crushing trauma. “Mr. Foster, can you tell me what happened?”
“I’ve told the uniformed officers my story at least twice.” His jaw clenched and released. “We’re wasting time. What are you doing to find my wife and child?”
“We have BOLOs out on both of them, we’ve issued an Amber Alert on your wife and daughter, and we’ve reached out to the surrounding jurisdictions. That means every cop in the DC metro area has Hadley’s and Skylar’s pictures, and they’re looking for them.”
Spencer shifted her body a little closer to Foster. “Sir, bear with me and tell me what you remember.”
Foster pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. “Jesus, how can a day that started off so good turn to shit so fast?”
“You said the day began well,” Spencer prompted. “What time do you get up?”
Foster shoved out a breath. “I get up early every day. Today I slept in an extra hour because I worked late last night at the office. We have a big project due, and everyone is working overtime.”
“What time did you get up?”
“Six. I normally run first, but not today. I got into the shower and stayed in longer than I normally do. Hadley finally hustled me out of the bathroom and told me she needed to get into the shower.” He shook his head. “I invited her in and made a joke about saving water.” He swallowed. “She got into the shower, which made us run even later.”
Vaughan removed a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it to a clean page. Already the man’s explanation didn’t match the evidence, but it was still early, and there were no real red flags yet. “You both get dressed.”
“Yeah. I finally stepped out of the shower and got dressed for work. Hadley lingered in the shower because she had to wash her hair. It’s really thick, and she says it’s always a production to wash and dry it.”
“She keeps everything neat in the house,” Spencer noted.
“She cleans up as she goes. She showers, she cleans the shower. Uses a towel, she washes it. Drives me crazy, but it keeps her calm.”
“Was she going anywhere special today?” Spencer asked.
“To the gym. She’s always at the gym. She teaches three or four classes a day.”
“She washed her hair before her workout?” Spencer asked.
“Yeah. Like I said, she’s a neat freak.” Foster picked a loose thread in the sheet.
That might explain the pristine condition of the bathroom. She could have grabbed the towels and cleaned out the shower and the countertops. The towels could have been in the laundry room. He made a note to check.
“You got dressed.” Spencer’s voice was calm, unhurried. “Where was your daughter?”
“I heard Skylar moving around in her room as I went downstairs. She came and got a cup of coffee and then headed back upstairs. She was calling out to her mother for something. I was more interested in coffee and didn’t stop to listen to my wife’s response.” He shook his head. “I should have listened.”
“You did nothing wrong, Mr. Foster.” She gave him a second to draw in a calming breath before saying, “Keep going.”
“I was packing my briefcase when I remembered it’s recycling day. I hustled out the back door and dragged the can around the side of the house to the curb. When I came back inside, I heard the screaming.” He closed his eyes. “It was chilling. The sounds were god awful.”
Spencer prodded him. “What happened?”
“I ran up the stairs two at a time.” Foster’s right foot moved back and forth, as if he was remembering the dash up the stairs. “That’s when I saw them.”
“What did you see?” Vaughan asked.
“There was a man. Dressed in black. He had a knife to my w-w-wife’s throat.” He stammered and closed his eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks.
“What did the man look like?” Vaughan asked.
“I’m not sure,” Foster said.
Spencer jumped in, asking, “Was he taller or shorter than your wife?”
“Taller. At least six inches taller.”
“Was the assailant fat or thin?” she asked.
“Medium build.”
“Was he wearing a mask?”
“Yes.”
“What color was the mask?”
“Black. It was a ski mask.”
“Did you see the color of his skin around his eyes or on his neck?”
“It was tanned.”
“African American? Hispanic?” she prompted.
“A white guy. His skin reminded me of someone who works in the sun a lot.”
“Did he ever face you?” she asked. “Did you see his eyes?”
A sigh shuddered over Foster’s lips, and he closed his eyes for a moment. “He glanced at me once very quickly before he used my wife’s body like a shield.”
“What did he want?” she asked.
“He wanted money and drugs.”
“Do you keep either in the house?” she asked.
“Hadley keeps sedatives. She’s always had trouble sleeping. And I don’t keep cash in the house.”
“What did the man’s voice sound like?” Spencer asked. “Was his voice deep, high pitched?”
“Deep.”
“Did he have an accent?”
“None that I heard.”