“We know she was following her father to the mall. Stands to reason she could be following her mother when she went out early,” Hughes said.
The timeline of events came more into focus for Vaughan. “Hadley arrives home. Skylar is on her heels. Mark is sleeping on the couch and wakes up. He sees them both. Maybe he thought the daughter had gone to sleep. He and the wife get into it. It goes sideways, and he stabs her?”
Hughes leaned back in her chair. “Still doesn’t rule out that masked intruder. If I were Mark, I’d claim their attacker held them hostage for a couple of hours.”
“I don’t think whatever happened in Hadley and Mark’s bedroom was planned,” Spencer said.
“Why do you say that?” Vaughan asked.
“Foster’s fabricating his story as he goes along. He wasn’t expecting the stabbing, the tossing of the body and knife, nor stashing his kid in the motel room. Foster was in a full-blown panic that morning. He comes by the station to confess until you impress upon him that you’re still going to follow the forensic evidence. Then he seems to shift gears.”
“What the hell is he hiding?” Vaughan asked.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Thursday, August 15, 9:00 a.m.
Fifty Hours after the 911 Call
Alexandria, Virginia
Zoe and Vaughan rang the bell of the Bradford house. She listened as determined footsteps echoed inside, seconds before curtains covering the windows to their right fluttered. Mrs. Bradford opened the door.
Mrs. Bradford’s face was as pale as it was grim, and Zoe guessed she had not slept much last night. “Come in. I’ve been expecting you since I received your voicemail. Sorry I didn’t call back. It’s been a mess here today.”
“What’s happening?” Zoe asked.
“My phone is ringing off the hook. The reporters are calling nonstop. I finally had to turn my phone off. Neil had to do the same. Nikki McDonald is the most persistent.”
“I hope you’ve not spoken to any of them,” Vaughan said.
“No. I have no desire to be the center of a media circus,” Mrs. Bradford said. “I just want all this to die down.”
“How’s Skylar?” Zoe asked.
“She’s doing pretty well, I think. She was up during the night, pacing. I asked if I could get her anything, but she said no. She’s trying to appear brave.”
“Where is she?” Zoe asked.
“In the basement den with Neil. They’ve been hunkered down in there because there are no windows, and they’re watching a movie. Can I get either of you coffee or water?”
“No, thank you, ma’am,” Vaughan said.
They made their way through a modest home filled with pictures of Neil that documented most of the major moments in his life.
“Is Neil your only child?” Zoe asked.
“Yes. I wanted more, but my husband liked the idea of focusing on the one.”
“Where is your husband now?” Zoe asked.
“He’s traveling for work. He’s in sales.”
“I don’t see any pictures of him,” Zoe said.
“Andy hates having his picture taken. Says he has a mug that will break any good camera. I don’t agree. Neil is the spitting image of him.”
She descended the stairs, past wood-paneled walls, toward a low ceiling. “Make sure you duck. The ceiling is lower than we’d like, but digging down six more inches was too expensive, so we duck.”
“How long have you lived in the area?” Vaughan asked.
“We’ve been here about a year. We were in Kansas, but my husband’s company transferred him. The high school is new for both Neil and Skylar. I think that’s what drew each to the other.”
“Did you spend any time with the Fosters?” Zoe asked.
“No. We didn’t know her parents very well, but Hadley was always nice to me.”
“When was the last time you saw Hadley alive?” he asked.
“Alive.” She pressed her fingertips to her temple. “God, I can’t believe I’m talking about her in those terms.”
“I know it can be difficult.”
She straightened her shoulders. “It was about three weeks ago. I ran into her while I was getting coffee. We had a lovely time and chatted about family.”
“And it was a pleasant meeting?”
“I suppose it was. I had to go to the restroom, and when I came back, she was gone. I thought it odd, but when I called her, she apologized and said it was an emergency.”
“You said a few weeks ago?”
“That’s right.”
“And where were you?”
“The coffee shop in Arlington.”
Vaughan jotted a note, and she suspected he would be checking the date against Hadley’s credit card receipts as well as any area security cameras. All that they had learned about Hadley so far was that she had kept a tight rein on her life until about three weeks ago, when her life had gone off the rails.
Mrs. Bradford led them into the basement room, where they found the young couple curled up on the plaid sofa in the den, watching a horror movie dating back to the eighties. The movie was a cheesy horror film, and it struck her as odd that a girl who had seen her mother knifed to death forty-eight hours ago was now watching a slasher movie.
Skylar absently ate popcorn from a bowl as she snuggled close to Neil, who had wrapped a protective arm around the girl. If this had been any other teenage couple, she would have thought the scene normal. This scenario troubled her.
“Skylar,” Vaughan said.
The girl’s gaze lingered on the wide-screen television a quick beat, and she muted it before she pulled away from Neil. “Detective Vaughan.”
“Skylar, we need to talk.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “We did talk. Did something change?”
“Nothing has changed,” he said. “But when we talked, we only skimmed the surface. I need to talk to you face to face now. And Neil and Mrs. Bradford, I would like you to excuse us.”
“I think we should stay,” Neil said, straightening his scrawny frame like he was a puffer fish intimidating its challenger.
“It’s okay, Neil,” Skylar said. “I can handle this. After the last couple of days, a few questions won’t be a big deal.”
In the background, the killer slashed at the girls, and they ran for their lives. Vaughan turned off the television. He said nothing and waited for Neil and his mother to leave.
Neil rose up off the couch, kissed Skylar on her lips, and nodded for his mother to follow. “We’ll be right upstairs if you need us.”
The door upstairs squeaked closed but did not quite click into place. Vaughan and Zoe sat across from Skylar, who remained curled on the couch and reached for a soft blue blanket to pull it over her legs.
“Skylar. Tell me what happened two days ago,” Vaughan said.
She pulled the blanket up closer to her chin. “My father told you what happened. A masked man broke into our house.”
“Walk us through the morning,” Zoe said.
The girl closed her eyes, a small sigh slipping over her lips. “I was in my room, getting ready for school. Dad brought me coffee.”
“How was he dressed?” Vaughan asked.
“He was wearing his suit. He gave me my coffee, and then he remembered the recycling. He left. I took a couple of sips, and then I heard the screaming. I ran out of my room, and Mom was on the floor. A man was standing over her.”
Zoe knew Vaughan wanted the girl to repeat the story. She had been given enough time to settle in a little; now was the time to amend it. She had not.
“Skylar, that version of events doesn’t fit with what we’ve found,” Vaughan said.
“What do you mean, it doesn’t fit?” she asked.
The girl had the face of an angel, and when she looked up at them, it was with pure innocence mingled with pain and confusion.
“We pulled surveillance footage from your neighbor’s house. We saw you follow your mother into the house. Why didn’t you tell us that you’d been outside?”
Skylar closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, she was nodding. “I forgot about that. I’m in shock, I guess. And I’m still scared. I didn’t want anyone to know where I’d been.”
“Where had you been?” Zoe asked.
“With Neil.” She dropped her voice a fraction. “We were in his family van. I know Monday nights are the easiest to get away without being noticed.”
“Why Mondays?” Vaughan asked.
“Mom was seeing a guy. Dad works late. He always has a big report to turn in on Tuesdays.”
“Where were you and Neil parked?” Vaughan asked.
“There’s a park close by. We didn’t want our parents to know.” She rubbed her fingertips against her temples. “I should have told you, but I didn’t think that it mattered. I went right upstairs and went to sleep. That’s why I was slow getting out of bed when Dad woke me up at 6:00 a.m.”
“How did you end up at the motel room?” Vaughan asked.
“I’m not really sure. I think I was drugged.”
“Who gave you the drugs?”
“I guess Dad did,” she said softly. “Next thing I know, it was twenty-four hours later.”