“I’m coming right out!” Sky shouted. “Just wait!”
That last comment told him she did not want the boyfriend alone with the cops too long.
“Agent Spencer, why don’t you talk to Sky when she gets out of the room? Neil and I are going to the dumpster to catch up and get that bag of clothes.” He clamped his hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling the kid’s muscles flinch.
“I want to stay with Sky,” Neil said in a show of fresh bravado.
“How old are you, son?” Vaughan asked.
“Eighteen.”
“And Sky is seventeen.” Vaughan shook his head.
“She’s only six months younger than me,” the boy protested.
“But in the eyes of the law, you’re an adult and she’s a minor. Right now, those six months mean you would be tried as an adult in court.”
“For what?”
“Hiding a material witness, for starters. Aiding and abetting. Perhaps statutory rape. Give me a little time, and I’ll come up with other charges.”
“I want to call my mom,” Neil said.
“Once we find that bag, I’ll let you call your mother. For now, it’s just you and me, chatting as we walk to the dumpster.”
The bathroom door opened, and Sky appeared. She’d dressed in faded jeans and a high school sweatshirt, and she’d attempted to run a comb through her hair but appeared too rushed to have finished the job.
As Sky moved toward Neil, Agent Spencer blocked her path. “I need a word with you.”
“I want to go home,” Skylar said. “I want to see my parents.”
Spencer exchanged a glance with Vaughan and then said simply, “First, we talk.”
The girl folded her arms and managed a pout likely perfected when she was a toddler. “Why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I leave? I’ve done nothing wrong,” she insisted.
“A lot of people have been looking for you,” Spencer said.
“Why?”
“You and I are going to talk about that.”
Vaughan pushed the boy outside a little more forcefully than he intended. He turned back to the motel door in time to see Spencer close it.
Zoe again blocked the girl’s exit as she tried to follow Vaughan and Neil outside. “We need to talk.”
“You can’t hold me here,” Skylar said. “I want to see my mom and dad, too.”
“I’ve called an ambulance for you. And now we’re going to wait.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” Skylar said. “I want to see my mom and dad.”
Zoe took the girl’s hand, noting the shallow slice across her palm. It wasn’t a bad cut. The edges of the skin were already knitting together, and she doubted it would leave a scar. “How did you get that?”
The girl snatched her hand back. “I don’t know.”
“How could you not know?”
The girl pressed her fingertips to her temple and closed her eyes. “I’ve been asleep for so long. I just woke up, and I’m really confused.”
“Have you been here since yesterday morning?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“How did you get here?”
“I’m not sure. It’s all really confusing. I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes open. Where are my mom and dad?”
Hadley’s stabbing would have been horrific to witness and certainly could have affected the girl’s ability to recall. The likelihood that this state of confusion would last was slim. There was also the possibility that the girl knew exactly what had happened and was lying. At this stage, she couldn’t determine which scenario was more likely.
“I know you’re rattled, Skylar, but I need you to tell me about yesterday.”
She closed her eyes, her brow scrunching, like a little girl playing hide-and-seek. “Dad brought me coffee.”
“Did he always bring you coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Where was your mother?” Zoe asked.
“Out for a run. She runs a lot.”
“And then what happened?”
She closed her eyes. “I had a bad dream.”
“About?”
“My mother was screaming.” She opened her eyes, studying her palm, and traced the red line that slashed across her pink skin still wrinkled from the shower. After a pause, she looked up at Zoe. “Was it a dream?”
“No.” Her tone was soft, but she was keenly aware of the girl’s reaction.
An anguished cry escaped her lips as she sat down on the edge of the unmade bed. She ran a trembling finger through her damp hair. “Where is she?”
The air stilled. “Do you remember yesterday morning? Do you know how you got the blood on your clothes?”
She traced the red line slashing across her palm. “I thought the blood was mine. It’s from the cut on my hand.”
“Why was your mother screaming?”
“She was in pain.” Skylar pressed her fingers to her temples and shook her head. “I remember hearing Dad shouting. He told me to run. To save myself.”
“From what?”
“There was a man.” She drew in a stuttering breath. “The man attacked Mom.”
“Who was the man?”
“I don’t know. I’d never seen him before.”
Zoe shifted to more detail-specific questions. “How tall was he?”
“Taller than Mom.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Black, I think. He was a white guy.”
“What color was his hair?”
“Like sandy. And he had a weird tattoo on his hand. But I never got a look at his face.” She closed her eyes, her head jerking slightly as if a vivid memory had assailed her. “He kept asking for money. Dad said he could have whatever he wanted as long as he left us alone.”
“How did you cut your hand?”
Again, she studied the gash. “I couldn’t just leave Mom. I ran past Dad toward the man and Mom. I guess that’s when I got cut.”
“You were close enough for him to slash your palm. Do you remember what he smelled like?”
Her nose wrinkled. “He didn’t smell good.”
“What did the knife look like?” Zoe asked.
“It was from our kitchen. Mom uses it to cut meat all the time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” The girl looked up at Zoe, her eyes clearing and getting sharper. “Where is my mom? Is she in the hospital?”
There was no more avoiding the answer. “Skylar, your mother is dead. I’m sorry, but she didn’t survive her injuries.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Mom cannot be dead. She can’t.”
“I’m sorry.” The girl leaned toward Zoe, needing a hug. Zoe wrapped her arms around her. Sobs racked the girl’s body.
When Skylar finally drew back, her eyes were puffy and red.
“I want to see my dad,” Skylar said.
“Do you have any other friends and family you can stay with?” Zoe asked.
“No. Why can’t I stay with my dad?”
“Because your father confessed to killing your mother.”
The girl shook her head with a force that rang true. “My father didn’t kill my mother. He loved her. There was another man in the room who killed Mom.”
“Why would he confess?”
“I don’t know.”
The complicated relationship of the Fosters was not a subject she wanted to press with this young girl, but now was the optimal time, when defenses were not erected and the truth had a way of slipping out. “When is the last time you saw Roger Dawson?”
Skylar blinked. “I don’t know. Mom trains with him at the gym. Why would he be at our house?”
“What about Jason Dalton?”
The girl’s eyes widened for an instant and then narrowed. She was calculating, measuring her words now. “Jason.”
“Jason. You have dinner with him at least once a week. He works at a garage in Arlington.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen your messages you sent through an app on your phone.”
“It’s password protected.”
“Jessica remembered your old password.”
Her brows wrinkled. “I forgot I told her.”
“Why were you meeting with Jason?” she asked.
“My dad is Mark Foster, and he loves me and would do anything for me. Jason is my biological father,” she said.
“How did you find out about Jason?”
“I found a picture of him and Mom.”
“What picture?”
“I’d never seen it before. Someone mailed it to Mom, I think.” The girl’s eyes sharpened. “Jason didn’t kill Mom, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“How can you be sure? You said you didn’t see the attacker’s face.”
“I know Jason wouldn’t do that.” The girl stepped toward Zoe, her fists clenched. “I want out of here now. I want to see my dad.” The last words shrieked across the room, and seconds later, the door snapped open.
Zoe had pressed this interview as far as she could. “Okay.”
Vaughan stood at the threshold. “The ambulance is here.”