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“What specifically did she say?” Vaughan asked.
“She told me this in confidence,” Dawson countered.
“You aren’t doing her any favors by not talking to us,” Vaughan said.
Dawson rubbed his thumb against a callus below his naked ring finger.
“The statistics for missing women are grim,” Spencer said. “The longer it takes to find them, the worse their odds become.”
“Mark was having an affair with a woman in his office. Her name is Veronica Manchester. She’s a new accountant at his firm. Hadley found out about it, and she was angry. She was ready to take Skylar this past spring and leave him, but Mark swore he would break it off and turn it around.”
“Did he?” Vaughan asked.
“That’s what he told Hadley, and he did cut out the late-night work sessions,” Dawson said. “But a month ago, he started working the long hours and stopped answering his phone when she called.”
“Did she tell you this?” Spencer asked.
“She did.”
“I’m not judging you, but I need to know if you two were having an affair,” Vaughan said. “The faster I figure out who the players are, the faster I can find Hadley and Skylar.”
Dawson pulled off his glasses, plucked a tissue from a box on his desk, and cleaned the lenses. Carefully, he settled his glasses back on his face. “I love Hadley. I wanted her to leave Mark. I wanted us to make a life together.”
“How did she feel about you?” Spencer said.
“She felt the same way. She had been promising for weeks to tell him. But she was scared and having trouble working up the nerve. She was worried about breaking up Skylar’s home life. Mark has been sleeping on the couch for the last few weeks.”
“Do you know anyone who might have a grudge against Mark?” Spencer asked.
“No. He was very professional and well respected.”
“Exactly what kind of accountant is he?” Vaughan asked.
“Forensic. He went into corporations and searched for missing money. He was quite good at it.”
“Any clients who could have gotten angry with him?” Vaughan asked.
“How would I know?” Dawson asked.
“Hadley might have mentioned it during one of those personal training sessions,” Spencer said.
Dawson’s brow wrinkled, and he shifted his stance. “You’re making what I have with Hadley sound cheap. We love each other. Rather than being here with me, you should be asking Mark what happened to his wife and daughter. He knows.”
A fine line separated love and hate. He’d worked plenty of murders rooted in passion. “Did you and Mark ever have any arguments?”
“No. We actually get along well,” he said.
“Did he know you were sleeping with his wife?”
Dawson straightened. “No. Hadley and I were discreet.”
“Are you certain he didn’t know?”
Dawson frowned. “I’m almost certain.”
“Do the Fosters have a vacation home?” Vaughan asked.
“Hadley never wanted the responsibility of a second house.”
“Is there some place she would go if she needed a place to hide or Mark needed a place to hide her?” Vaughan asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“When is the last time you saw Hadley?” Spencer asked.
“That’s none of your business,” Dawson said.
“I’m trying to find this woman and her child,” she clarified.
Dawson hesitated. “Last night. Mark works late on Monday nights.”
Spencer showed no reaction. “Where were you two last night?”
He shoved out a breath. “There is a hotel in Crystal City where we stay. She left right before midnight, but I stayed the entire night.”
Vaughan got the name and made a note to pull security footage. “Okay.”
Spencer shifted directions, asking, “What do you know about Skylar Foster?”
“She’s as smart as a whip. Hadley thinks she’s going to get a full ride to a few top schools. When they first moved back, I used to see her quite a bit at the gym, but not too much in the last months.”
“Did something change in the girl’s life?” Vaughan asked.
“Hadley said Skylar has a boyfriend,” Dawson said. “I don’t know his name.”
“Do you know where he lives or goes to school?” Spencer asked.
“Her high school, I think,” Dawson said.
“Does Hadley have any close friends?” Spencer asked.
“I don’t know. She likes to work out, and she looks after Skylar. She’s always kept to herself.”
“There was a news report about Marsha Prince,” Spencer said. “Did you see it?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t really paying attention. Girl died a long time ago, or something.”
Vaughan shifted his stance. “Did Hadley ever talk about her family?”
“No. What does this girl have to do with Hadley and Skylar?” He looked genuinely frustrated.
“Marsha Prince was her sister. The girl was abducted and killed, and her remains were found back in June.”
Dawson stilled, held up his hands, and took a step back. “What?”
“She never told you her sister was killed?” Spencer asked.
“Hell no! Jesus. She never told me she even had a sister. She said her parents died in a car accident.”
“She wasn’t truthful,” Spencer said. “Her parents died of natural causes seventeen years ago. We met with her yesterday to inform her that her sister’s remains had been identified.”
Dawson shook his head. “She never said a word to me.”
“Did Hadley make a habit of lying?” Spencer asked.
“Not to me.”
“But to others?” Spencer asked.
“She worried too much about what people thought, so she tended to exaggerate.”
Vaughan had crossed paths with many skilled liars, and if Dawson was one of them, he was in the top of his class. He handed Dawson a card. “Call me if you hear from Hadley or Skylar or if you think of anything.”
Dawson glanced at the card, his face paling as he flicked the edge of the card. “Mark knows more than he’s saying. Bet on it.”
“Do you think Hadley summoned up the courage to talk to her husband about a divorce?” Spencer asked.
Tension rippled over Dawson’s body as he pressed his fist to his lips. “I was pushing her to talk to him. She swore she’d ask Mark for a divorce this morning.”
“Maybe she did just that,” Vaughan said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tuesday, August 13, 2:00 p.m.
Alexandria, Virginia
Seven Hours after the 911 Call
Vaughan returned to the Foster house and discovered the news vans were still parked across the street, and the cop cars lining the curb had multiplied. As he parked, Spencer pulled in behind him.
Vaughan waited for Spencer to join him before they approached the house. Each donned latex gloves and entered the foyer. Bud Clary, still dressed in protective gear, was dusting for prints on the front window.
“Detective Vaughan,” Bud said. “Agent Spencer.”
