“Do you want me to call in an order?” she asked.
“Onions and pepperoni?”
“Done.”
The drive to Gino’s took less than five minutes, and when he pulled up, she reached for her purse. “I got it. Do me a favor and don’t park in front of the store. This vehicle screams cop.”
He chose a spot in the shadows that also gave him a clear view into the glass storefront of the pizza shop. “And if we aren’t cops, what are we?”
“Not we. Me. I’ll think of something. Stay in the car.”
“You’re the boss.”
She rose out of the car, her long legs carrying her quickly across the lot. He watched Spencer inside the shop as she grinned and approached the cashier. Her expression brightened in a way that made it hard for the cashier or him not to notice.
The cashier, an older guy with white hair and a scruffy mustache, turned and selected her box from a tall stack.
When he handed her the ticket, she touched her hair and straightened her back a fraction, accentuating her breasts slightly. The man leaned in toward her, and the two spoke for several minutes before she smiled again and picked up the box and left. The cashier raised his phone, but his gaze lingered an extra beat on her ass.
She opened his back door and put her pizza box on top of his. “That your logo?”
He turned around. “Bingo.”
“I thought so. Galina comes in several times a week. Loves her toppings. The last time he saw her was Monday.”
“Was she with anyone?”
“She came in alone and paid cash. The shop has security cameras, so I suggest you get a warrant for the footage.”
“Will do.” Shaking his head, he put his car in drive. “He told you all this?”
“I said Galina was coming into real money, and there was a finder’s fee for anyone that helped me.”
Vaughan arrived at the police station minutes later, and with pizza boxes in hand, he followed her to his desk.
“Point the way to the ladies’ room?”
“To your left, just past the break room.”
“Perfect.”
Like the cashier, he enjoyed watching her walk away.
When she vanished around the corner, he flipped his attention to his desk and the dozen pink slips. He sifted through the names and numbers, deciding they could all wait.
When Spencer returned, she held two sodas and several napkins. They opened the box from Gino’s first, and each selected a slice. He sat behind his desk, and she, in front in a metal chair, scooted up close to the edge.
After they’d each sampled the second box of pizza, he asked, “What do you think?”
“If I were a hungry young girl, it would be amazing.”
“Tell me you have not eaten all the pizza,” Hughes said as she approached the desk with a computer tablet in hand.
“For you, we have plenty.” Vaughan grinned.
“Bless you. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” She pulled up a chair, grabbed a slice, and took a big bite before pressing several keys on her tablet. As Spencer reached for a second slice, Hughes asked, “How can you be so slim and eat so much? It’s going to take me weeks to work off this meal.”
“My dance instructors used to tell me I was fat,” Spencer said.
Hughes snorted. “How much did you weigh when you danced?”
“One hundred fifteen pounds.”
“I weighed that in the third grade,” Hughes countered with a chuckle.
“They wanted me closer to one hundred.”
“At your height?”
“The teachers liked thin and wispy,” Spencer said.
Vaughan thought Spencer looked damn fantastic. “And how did you get to be a cop?”
“I broke my leg when I was eighteen and, while I was rehabbing, went to school to fill the extra time and fell in love with criminal science.”
“Ballet’s loss is the FBI’s gain,” Hughes said.
“So they tell me.” Spencer took several bites of her food before asking, “What do you have for us, Detective Hughes?”
Hughes wiped her fingers off with a napkin and punched more buttons. “The first act of this story occurs on July first. Hadley and Skylar are shopping.”
The image of the two in a dress shop appeared. They stood at the counter, and while Hadley paid the bill, the girl stared at her phone. The sales clerk seemed to speak to Skylar, but the girl didn’t look up. Hadley nudged her, and the girl turned and walked out of the store.
Hughes pressed another button, changing the camera angle. “And then this happened.”
Vaughan understood teenage hormones and moods, secretly glad he had a boy. As he watched the screen, he noticed a man who had been leaning against a store across the street began to follow them. The man wore a hat, a long-sleeve shirt, and dark pants.
“Did everybody see our man across the street?” Hughes asked.
Vaughan and Spencer nodded.
“On to act three. Hadley is at the hardware store. She bought a cooler that day. Her actual purchase was of no interest until I caught this.” Hughes pressed a button. “Remember this is around the time her husband and neighbor said she started to act differently.”
Hadley walked out of the store, and as she crossed the sidewalk, a man came up on her right. He was tall and lean like the man in the first video, and this time he walked directly toward her. When it became clear she had not noticed him, he called out to her. She lifted her gaze and at first appeared confused. Then she took a step back.
Grinning, the man moved closer, stopping less than three feet from her. Her confusion shifted to worry, and she gripped the handle of the cooler. She stumbled backward and then turned and ran toward her car. The stranger pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up.
“Who is our mystery man?” Vaughan asked.
Hughes selected the man’s face and enlarged it. “I don’t know.”
“Can you print that out for me?” Vaughan asked.
She dropped her gaze back to the list of phone numbers. “Sure.”
When the printer across the room spat out the image, Hughes crossed to the machine, retrieved it, and handed it to Spencer.
“Judging by Hadley’s expression, she knew this guy very well,” Spencer said.
“We find this guy, we might find Skylar and Hadley?”
“Maybe,” Spencer said.
This added a new dimension to their search. “I’ll show the picture to the motel manager where Galina died. He said he didn’t see who Galina showed up with, but he might still know this guy.”
Hughes studied her computer notes. “FYI, Mark Foster called the same number sixteen times in the last two weeks. It’s an unregistered phone, but I called it. The owner’s voicemail was canned, and the inbox was full and didn’t accept a message.”
“Read it off to me?” Vaughan asked. As she did, he scribbled down the number.
“Mr. Foster’s cell phone records indicated the last time he called this individual was seven days ago. They spoke for thirty-two minutes.”
“What about Skylar’s phone?” Vaughan asked.
“Most of her calls were to Neil Bradford,” Hughes said. “And there is one more number that doesn’t appear to be attached to a name. It has a North Carolina area code and, like the number Mark was calling, is a burner.”
“One thing for Mark Foster to call a burner, but Skylar?” Spencer said.
“Not all kids can afford the better phones,” Vaughan said.
He took several more bites of pizza and then dialed the number. “Let’s see.” It rang several times but never went to voicemail.
She nodded to the man’s image on the screen.
“Kids from nice neighborhoods think they’re invincible and trust too damn easily. They think that protective bubble will follow them everywhere.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Wednesday, August 14, 2:00 a.m.
Alexandria, Virginia
Nineteen Hours after the 911 Call
Zoe and Vaughan worked past three o’clock in the morning, reviewing the Fosters’ financial and phone records. Fatigue was settling into her body, but she pushed through it, refusing to quit. A couple of times, he checked his watch and, when he caught her studying him, smiled sheepishly and admitted he had to remind himself that Nate wasn’t home. She felt for the guy but knew there wasn’t much she could say.
They had learned the Foster family enjoyed nice clothes, fancy restaurants, and expensive jewelry, but they were in deep debt. The house had two mortgages against it, and both Hadley’s and Mark’s credit cards were nearly maxed out.
Vaughan had also discovered that Mark had taken out a three-million-dollar life insurance policy on his wife a year ago. He was listed as the sole beneficiary.
By three in the morning, Zoe and Vaughan agreed to take a two-hour break so each could swing by their home to shower and change clothes.
He walked her to her car, and she drove back to her town house, cutting down the quiet streets of Old Town Alexandria. She parked and hurried down the brick sidewalk to her front door.
Zoe’s ring of keys rattled in her hand as she twisted the old lock to the front door of her home. The hardware was brass and had stunning detail on both the handle and faceplate. However, it required finesse and jiggling to work, as if it really did not want her in the house.