by Burton, Mary
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more of a help,” Hadley said.
“Thank you again for your time,” Vaughan said.
Spencer followed. “I can call you if I have more questions?”
“Certainly,” Hadley said.
They each handed Mark and Hadley a business card, and the couple escorted them to the front door. “Thank you for coming,” she said.
Mark’s gaze grew more pensive. “Thank you.”
Vaughan nodded as a smiling Hadley Foster closed the front door with a soft click. The locks slid back into place.
The two walked down the steps and along the sidewalk. They moved past a black Lexus and an Explorer parked in the driveway. “Wasn’t that interesting,” she said.
“I would have expected more shock from Hadley about the recovery of her sister’s body. But she seemed more worried about why witnesses talk years later.”
“The more perfect families and homes appear, the less I tend to trust them.”
On that, they agreed. “Hadley’s created a picture-perfect life here.”
“She’s holding on so tight I’m surprised her knuckles aren’t white.”
“Sounds like experience talking.”
She arched a brow but pivoted away from the very overt attempt to know more about her. “I’d like to talk to Mr. Slater. He knew the family back in the day and might have a few insights.”
A breeze carried the soft scent of new perfume that he liked very much. “Would you like to go now?”
“I would.” In the car, she typed in the address of the business. “The website says they’re open until seven.”
Vaughan glanced at the time on the digital dash clock. He had pictured his first night without Nate to be a quiet affair featuring a cold beer, pizza, and the preseason football game he had taped.
In all honesty, the idea of quiet had been unsettling. He’d heard empty nesters got used to the silence, but he was not there yet. The more commotion in his life, the better, as far as he was concerned.
“Let’s go.” She scrolled through her phone messages. “Two missed calls from Nikki McDonald.”
“Persistent. I’ll give her that much.”
“She can wait.”
Wild Blue: I can’t make dinner.
Mr. Fix it: Why?
Wild Blue: Mom and Dad got bad news. Something about her sister.
Mr. Fix it: What about her?
Wild Blue: I’ll tell you later.
Mr. Fix it: Okay.
Wild Blue: U r the only one who understands me.
Mr. Fix it: We are one and the same. How is your mom?
Wild Blue: Lame. Like always. Next Monday?
Mr. Fix it: Yes.
Wild Blue: Luv you.
Mr. Fix it: Me, too.
CHAPTER FIVE
Monday, August 12, 6:00 p.m.
Alexandria, Virginia
One Day Before
Zoe had never seen Vaughan ruffled. He kept his tone easy and direct and could rope in a suspect, coworker, or even her with an easy smile. But she sensed those still waters ran deep, and he was not satisfied with the visit with Hadley Foster.
She flipped through the pictures in her case file until she reached the images of the blackened skull. “One thing to kill a young woman, but it’s another to pull her teeth and burn her remains.”
“That kind of death reminds me of a mob or cartel hit,” he said. “Makes me wonder if Larry Prince was into something he shouldn’t have been.”
“Kill the girl to punish the father? That’s possible, but it’s a stretch. Larry Prince was investigated thoroughly, and there was nothing that smelled of organized crime.”
“And cartels don’t usually call the media and tell them where to find the body,” he reasoned.
“Maybe Larry Prince pissed off the wrong person. Maybe someone pointed the finger at him, and he and his family paid the price.”
“It’s possible.”
Vaughan wove up King Street, angled down Telegraph Road, and turned on Richmond Highway, where the landscape quickly turned from new and modern to strip malls, fast-food joints, and light industry. Five miles down Route One, he drove onto the Slater Slurry Inc. lot.
He parked beside a line of trucks, and the two made their way to the front office. A bell rang over their heads. The office was small and covered in faux paneling that looked like it dated back to the seventies. The few guest chairs were chrome and red vinyl, and the front desk, piled high with files, was metal.
A door behind the desk opened to a stocky man with a thick crop of gray hair held back with reading glasses. His face was round and wrinkled and reminded her of a bulldog.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
“We’re looking for Mr. Henry Slater.” Vaughan held up his badge and made introductions.
“You found me.” The man arched a brow. “What’s this about?”
“We wanted to ask you about Larry Prince.”
Slater pulled off his glasses and moved behind the desk. “He’s been dead seventeen years. Died of a heart attack.”
“I understand you two had a good working relationship,” Vaughan said.
“He was my boss,” Slater replied. “He treated me fairly, taught me the business. In return, I gave him a solid day’s work. Our relationship was strictly professional. When the whistle blew, we went our separate ways.”
“What do you remember about Marsha Prince?” Zoe asked.
“I’ve done my best to forget about it all.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “She was a great kid. Hardworking, and all the customers loved her. Broke her father’s heart when she vanished.”
“Hadley also worked in the shop?” Vaughan asked.
“Not as much, but she was gearing up to run the register full time. But when her sister went missing, she got married and left town. I tried to keep up with Hadley and even sent her a Christmas card that first year she was out west, but she never wrote back. I figured it was just as well. Larry and Edith weren’t exactly the best of parents.”
“Why do you say that?” Vaughan asked.
“Larry was super controlling with his girls. Didn’t like boys looking at them at all. If Mark hadn’t been working here, I’m not sure Larry would ever have let him date Hadley. But Mark was a hardworking guy, and Larry liked him. Why are you asking about Marsha now?”
“Marsha Prince’s remains were found eight weeks ago. It’s taken this long to identify them.”
“Shit. Where?” Slater asked.
“About five miles from here in a storage unit,” Zoe said.
“I remember a reporter doing a story a couple months ago,” Slater said. “She found bones in a box.”
Unfortunately for them, the public videotape of the discovery had revealed many key details. Law enforcement normally held back facts they believed were known only to the killer, but in this case, there were few secrets they could now keep.
“The remains belonged to Marsha Prince,” Zoe said.
Slater rubbed his hand over his jaw. “How did she die?”
Nikki McDonald still didn’t know the answer to this question, and Zoe wanted to keep it under wraps for now. “We haven’t determined that yet.”
“Jesus.” Slater rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head. “The bones on the video were all black.”
“They had been burned.”
“Why?”
“Either someone didn’t want her found, or they were sending a message.”
“What kind of message?” he asked.
“You tell us,” Vaughan countered.
“If you’re suggesting that Larry Prince was into anything shady, you are wrong.”
“I’m not suggesting anything. You bought the business a year after Marsha vanished,” Vaughan said. “If anyone knew what was in the books or if Larry had owed anyone a lot of money, you would. Did he make anyone angry?”
“He got on well enough with the clients. He wasn’t the war
m and fuzzy type, but he was professional. And no, there wasn’t anything funny about the books. I was able to keep the crews working and the business open because he had given me signature power on the accounts soon after Marsha vanished. He was a total wreck, and so was Edith. You can go back and check all the statements. I never did anything funny or off color with them.”
“How did you afford the company?” Vaughan asked.
“It was a matter of meeting the banks and accepting the existing loans on the business. I had a track record, and I put my home up as collateral. The bank didn’t want a default on their hands. I called Hadley and offered to send her money each month, but she said her husband made enough and for me to keep it.”
Zoe pulled out the last picture taken of the Prince family and handed it to Slater. “Hadley said her father took the family out for a big splurge. Why was he in such a good mood?” Zoe asked.
Slater stared at the picture a long moment before handing it back to Zoe. “The cops asked me that question a dozen times back in the day. He had won a lucrative state contract. We knew we would have to buy more trucks and hire more men, but it also meant the bank was willing to give us the loan. The loan had come through that day, and he figured, why not do something nice for himself and his family. Only a month before, he had had to tell Hadley he couldn’t send her to college. He was planning to tell her she could now go.”
“How did Hadley react about not going to college?” Zoe asked.
“She was really upset, as you can imagine. She had worked harder than her sister and made better grades but was still facing a few years of working behind the counter here.”
“Did Larry Prince have a girlfriend?” Vaughan asked.
Slater hesitated. “That’s out of the blue. Why do you ask?”
“Trying to get a full picture,” Vaughan said. “There’s always more than meets the eye.”
“There was a woman who worked the front desk.” Slater’s tone was reluctant. “They messed around a couple of times, but it wasn’t serious.”
“Did you tell the cops this?” Zoe asked.
“No. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with Marsha.”
“What was the woman’s name?” Vaughan asked.
“Becky Mahoney. After the murders and all the media attention, she moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Who was Marsha dating?” Vaughan asked.
“There were a few upwardly mobile guys, but she never went out with any of them more than once.”
“What about the ones that weren’t upwardly mobile?” Zoe asked.
“There were a few who worked in this shop. One guy in particular caught her eye. Good-looking kid. Jason Dalton. He could charm anyone, and Marsha was no exception. But Jason was smart enough to know to stay away from the boss’s daughters. And he was more interested in getting enough money together so he could move south.”
“Was Marsha interested in any guys?” Zoe said.
“There were several, but it’s been so long I don’t remember the names. They all liked Marsha, too. Most of them had drug problems or had done time.”
“Do you know where Jason Dalton is now?” Vaughan asked.
“Jason moved south a few months before Marsha vanished. I never saw him again. I haven’t kept up with the other guys.”
“You suspect Jason?”
“No. He was guilty of being poor and maybe stupid like most teenage boys are, but I never saw him as a killer.”
“Was Hadley seeing anyone other than Mark?” Zoe asked.
“How would I know something like that?” Slater countered.
“You’re one of the few people who knew the family well at the time,” Vaughan pointed out.
“Hadley was crazy about Mark,” Slater said.
“That’s not exactly an answer,” Zoe said.
“No, she wasn’t dating anyone else,” Slater said.
Forty-five minutes later, Zoe and Vaughan arrived at Nikki McDonald’s apartment building. Vaughan parked, and they made their way into the lobby. They showed identification to the doorman, who called up to Nikki.
“I hope she saved her pennies,” Vaughan said. “The rent here is not cheap.”
“She’s been out of work four months,” Zoe said. “Her website has had a reasonable amount of hits but not enough to generate advertising to cover this.”
The elevator doors opened, and Nikki stepped off. She wore dark cotton pants, a gray top, and sandals. Her hair was freshly brushed, and her lipstick looked as if it had just been applied.
“Detective Vaughan and Agent Spencer,” Nikki said. “I was beginning to think you both were avoiding me.”
Vaughan grinned. “I said I’d talk to you when I had some information.”
Her eyes sparked. “And you do. Your expression gives it away.”
His smile widened. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Nikki rubbed her hands together. “I feel like this is going to be good.”
“It is,” he teased.
“Now I’m intrigued.”
On an intellectual level, Zoe understood Vaughan’s easy style worked well with those he interviewed. It was that charm that had drawn her to him initially. His life was not perfect, but he chose not to haul the baggage around with him. And seeing as she carried enough for two people, it was a welcome relief.
However, she wasn’t so crazy about the way Nikki McDonald leaned toward him when she spoke or the way she touched her hair in a flirty way.
Nikki led them down the hallway to a small waiting room furnished with four large chairs and a coffee table. Five sales brochures fanned across the sparkling glass tabletop. “The building manager uses this for sales meetings, but we can use it.”
The reporter extended her hand to the two chairs and took the one on the other side of the coffee table. She leaned back, a woman comfortable in her space. “Let’s have it.”
Zoe and Vaughan sat, and he nodded to her, giving her the go-ahead to deliver the news. “The bones you found belonged to Marsha Prince.”
Nikki’s gaze lost all hints of amusement as her gaze leveled on Zoe. “Marsha Prince. My Marsha Prince?”
“If you mean the woman who was the subject of your news reports years ago, then yes,” Zoe said.
Nikki had covered the girl’s disappearance extensively, as had many journalists in the beginning. She had floated several theories, including one that had suggested the girl had been killed by a serial killer in the Shenandoah Valley. Cops had later disproved that conclusively.
She sat back and tapped a manicured finger on the table. “This is huge.”
“Which makes it all the more important that we understand who sent you the message about the skull,” Vaughan said.
“I gave you everything I had,” she said.
“Have you been contacted in the interim?” Vaughan asked.
“No. Not another peep out of whomever this person is.”
“You reach out to the sender?”
“I have.”
“You covered the original story multiple times, and you did an anniversary report on the girl’s disappearance,” Zoe said.
“The story helped boost me up the ladder.”
“Why didn’t you include Hadley Foster in the anniversary piece?”
“I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with me. She was clear she didn’t want to be involved.”
“She never submitted to any interview, correct?” Zoe asked.
“No, she never would. I know the police spoke to her extensively. I tried once to get ahold of some of the interview tapes but couldn’t.”
A frown deepened the lines on Vaughan’s face. The idea that someone in his department would leak information to the media was clearly distasteful.
“The owner of the storage unit had no ties to the Prince family?” Zoe asked.
“She did not,” Nikki agreed. “Helen Saunders also had no children. She did have a great-n
ephew, but he moved away years ago, and I haven’t been able to find him.”
“If you do come across new information or this mysterious informant contacts you, you will tell us.” Vaughan had not tacked a question mark on at the end of the sentence.
“Of course. I always help law enforcement. If you figure this out, how about giving me an exclusive?”
“I can’t make any promises,” Vaughan said.
“You scratch my back—well, you know the rest.”
He stood, extending his hand. As they shook, he said, “Don’t hold out on me, Ms. McDonald.”
“Never.” She released his grip. “Agent Spencer, I would love to see a picture of the bust you created,” she said. “I understand you have a real talent for re-creating the faces of the dead.”
“We’ll be sending out a press release in the next twenty-four hours,” Zoe said.
“I don’t get a sneak peek?” Nikki asked.
“No, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Nikki offered an exaggerated pout. “No fair.”
Zoe lifted her gaze, knowing it was not friendly. “Marsha Prince would agree.”
Zoe and Vaughan arrived at the Alexandria Heights apartment complex where Marsha Prince’s body had been found. The brick entryway pillars were under construction, and the siding on the west side was covered in scaffolding. Several sets of windows on the top floor still bore the manufacturer’s sticker.
“The building’s undergoing a major renovation,” he said.
“I do not envy the residents. I’m considering a renovation of my place, and I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Why not just sell? The location alone is worth a fortune,” he replied.
“I’m not ready.”
“We’re at the top of the real estate market, so you must be sentimental,” he said.
She shrugged. “It happens to the best of us. I’m sure it will pass.”
“Were you close to your uncle?”
“Jimmy wasn’t actually my uncle. He was my late husband’s uncle,” she said.
Vaughan rattled the keys in his hands. “I didn’t realize you’d been married.”
“Jeff died several years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.