Alex and Sam were sitting in a black Oldsmobile parked a few hundred feet from Taylor and Jack Hoffman’s multimillion-dollar residence in the Rosemont district of Alexandria, Virginia. The white painted brick colonial was distinguished from the other homes by four huge columns that stood in front of the entrance. A red brick wall separated by an iron gate surrounded the property.
The twins had followed Taylor Hoffman to Dulles International Airport, where she dropped off her husband who had taken the last flight out to Los Angeles. They had waited in the sweltering August heat for Taylor Hoffman to turn off the only light burning in her bedroom. It was so hot that they had discussed turning the air conditioning on, but decided against it. They were taking a big chance as it was. If someone heard a car start, they might look outside and see them. Maybe even call the police.
The Hoffmans were an upwardly mobile couple with everything to look forward to. The young couple was married in June, a few weeks after twenty-six-year-old Taylor had graduated from Georgetown University, where she earned her degree in corporate law. Earlier that morning, Taylor had interviewed for and accepted a coveted position with Talley, McNearney and Associates. The firm had promised her plenty of opportunities for advancement and a possible partnership if she worked hard.
Jack Hoffman had developed a virtual reality program at the Massachusetts Institute for Technology that was specifically designed for the motion picture industry’s science fiction films. The program broke new ground and allowed pictures like The Matrix and Titanic to be more realistic. Jack had just accepted a three-picture deal with Paramount Pictures and was flying out to Los Angeles to begin work on a project. He had planned to leave earlier, but when Taylor landed the job at Talley, McNearney and Associates, he took a later flight so they could celebrate.
Alex was wearing a pair of headphones that were connected to a parabolic mic that was capable of picking up sound inside Taylor’s bedroom. A few minutes after she turned off the light, soft snoring could be heard. The twins got out of the car and walked between the columns to the front door—duffel bag in tow. Using an alarm decoder and a set of master keys, the twins easily walked into the dark colonial without detection. They donned a pair of night vision goggles and welcomed the air-conditioned chill.
Furtively, they climbed the carpeted circular stairs and found Taylor Hoffman in the master bedroom. She was curled in a ball sound asleep under a comforter. Alex took off the goggles, sat on the bed without disturbing her, and turned on the bright nightstand light.
“Taylor,” Alex said, shaking her. “Wake up.”
Taylor opened her eyes and was blinded momentarily by the bright light. When she was able to focus and saw who was in her house, she opened her mouth to scream, but it was too late.
Alex taped her mouth shut and smiled. “Heather Connelly, Sandra Rhodes, and Paula Stevens are dead. You didn’t think we’d forget about you, did you?”