CHAPTER ELEVEN
There is more to life than money. There is retribution.
San Antonio, Texas
Tuesday, November 28, 3:00 p.m.
As Mazur drove, Kate dialed Dr. Ryland’s number. She said she was curious about the toxicology tests run on Gloria Sanchez.
He picked up on the third ring. “Dr. Hayden.”
“Dr. Ryland, did you speak to Gloria Sanchez’s family doctor yet?”
“I did.”
“Was he treating her for cancer?”
“He diagnosed the cancer about a year ago, but she never came back to see him. He said he followed up and called her; she said she was seeking other treatment. He pressed for details, but she said she had it under control.”
“Who was the other doctor she was seeing?”
“He didn’t know.”
“Is there any record of treatment?” Kate asked.
“Not that I found.”
“Did you test her blood for narcotics?”
“I did. I should have results back in about a week.”
“And no record of prescription pain meds?” she asked.
“No.”
“Thanks, Dr. Ryland.” She hung up.
“Why all the questions about Gloria Sanchez’s health?” Mazur asked.
“How did she look in the most recent commercial clips?”
“Great. Healthy as a horse.”
“I’m just wondering why she hid her disease from her husband and stopped seeing her doctor.”
“Fear. Vanity. Who knows?” he said.
She frowned. “Did you ever find out the cause of the car accident that killed the first Mrs. Sanchez?”
“Let me check with Palmer.” He dialed her number, and when she picked up, he switched to speakerphone. “Palmer, I have you on speaker with Kate Hayden. Any more information on the first Mrs. Sanchez?”
“She died twenty-one years ago in a car accident on I-35. According to the police report, Selena, aged thirty-nine, was driving late at night when she lost control, ran off the road into a ravine, and hit a tree. The medical examiner reported she didn’t die right away. She suffered major internal injuries. Took her several hours before she expired.”
“Detective Palmer,” Kate said. “Was there a life insurance policy on Selena Sanchez?”
“There was. Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Not a huge sum,” Kate said. “And Martin Sanchez married Gloria eight months later.”
“Correct,” Palmer said.
“What did he do with the insurance money?” Kate asked.
“From what I can tell, he started the dealership with it.”
“Did anyone check out Selena Sanchez’s vehicle to see if it had been tampered with?” Kate asked.
“The police report didn’t indicate a problem. But I doubt they’d have been looking for one. The car was all but destroyed, and she didn’t have the kind of clout to trigger an intense investigation.”
“Okay,” Mazur said. “Thanks, Palmer.”
“Here to serve,” she said.
After he hung up, he angled his head toward Kate. “So what’s the connection?”
“Right now, I don’t see one.” She rubbed her eyes. “I suspect something is off about Gloria’s illness, but I’m just not seeing it.”
“How about a break? I’m starving. I’m getting a burger.”
“Sure.”
“I assume you eat meat.”
“I do.”
“Good. You can eat, too.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “You’re always trying to feed me.”
“Call it self-interest. You can’t think if you’re exhausted and starving. When was your last meal?”
“Yesterday.”
“The crap from the vending machine?”
“Yes.”
Shaking his head, he pulled into a drive-through and ordered two number-three burgers, fries, and sodas. As he pulled to the next window, he fished out his wallet.
“I’ve got this,” Kate said.
“You get the next one.” He paid, accepted the bag of food, and parked in a nearby spot. He handed her the bag.
When she took a bite, he nodded. “Not sure I would totally trust a vegetarian.”
She pulled off a pickle. “I eat everything but vegetables. Though if they came in vending machines, I might try them.” She took another bite. “Eating hot food is a moment to be celebrated.”
He smiled and took a bite of his burger. After a moment, he asked, “Do you think Martin Sanchez knew about Gloria’s cancer?”
“He looked surprised when you told him.”
“You think he killed her?” Mazur asked.
She pinched a piece from the bun. “If he really didn’t know about the cancer and he thought she had many more years to live, Sanchez could have hired someone to kill his wife.”
“You must be reading my mind.” He nodded toward her half-eaten burger. “Finish up.”
“This is good,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’m still getting to know the area, and the best burger joints are hidden. Haven’t found a pizza place that rivals what we had in Chicago. You’re from this area, do you know any?”
She picked up a fry. “My restaurant information is outdated.”
“You said your mother lives in town.”
She arched a brow. “Why the curiosity about my family?”
He smiled. “It’s called making conversation, Kate. You must have learned about that in your volumes of profiling books.”
If she noticed he had dropped her formal title, she didn’t seem to mind. “I skipped that lecture.”
He feigned shock. “Oh my, was that a joke?”
“No. It’s a fact.”
He laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”
They ate in silence for several minutes before she said, “We should talk to Martin Sanchez. There’s more behind what we’re seeing.”
He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “He can wait another ten or fifteen minutes. Eat.”
She bit into the burger. “Right.”
“So what made you choose the FBI, Kate?” he asked.
She set the burger down and wiped her hands on a napkin. “I was working on my PhD when law enforcement approached my linguistics professor with a letter from a stalker. They asked him to read it. He brought me in to consult, and based on the observations we made, the cops were able to catch the guy. The FBI was recruiting so I applied. I’m now a part of a team, and we’re sent out to investigate complicated cases.”
“You like it?”
“You know how it goes. There are times when you are witness to man’s inhumanity to man. Other times when the rush is so exciting, you’re on a high for days.”
“I hear ya.”
“Why’d you become a cop?”
“Couldn’t imagine myself in a nine to five. And I wanted to make a difference.” He studied her. “Did you choose the FBI because of your father’s murder?”
She stilled, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she’d answer. “That was certainly part of the equation. His death devastated our family.”
He heard the tremor in her voice. “I’m sorry.”
For an instant, she closed her eyes. She then balled the remainder of her burger up in the wrapper. “I blame myself.”
“Why?”
“I went to high school with the shooter, William Bauldry. We were in chess club together and got to be good friends.”
“What was Bauldry like?”
“He was smart, funny, and very charismatic. I wouldn’t call him a popular kid, but all the popular kids liked him.”
“And you dated him?”
“As you may have noticed, I’m a geek. This trait is an asset now but wasn’t so much in high school. He befriended me, which I found very flattering. When he asked me out on a date, I couldn’t resist. I thought I was the luckiest girl in San Antonio.”
Mazur was silent. “Why did you break up with him?”
“That niceness he projected to the world changed when we were alone. He became too controlling. He wanted constant affirmations from me, and I couldn’t keep doing it.”
“So you broke up.”
“Yes. He was furious. At first my parents didn’t understand why I broke it off. William was so very charming, but when I insisted this was the right move for me, they backed me up. When he called, my parents ran interference. When calling didn’t work, he wrote me dozens of letters. The letters all seemed benign at the time, but if I were reading them now, I could point to all the warning signs. I wish to hell I had seen them then.”
“You were a kid, how could you?”
“He shot and killed my father. I cannot forgive myself for not seeing the warning signs.”
“What about your mother? They can’t blame you.”
“Mom’s support never wavered, which made dealing with it all that much harder. My brother, Mitchell, blamed me for Dad’s death. Honestly, I could deal with that better than Mom’s understanding.”
Mazur was silent for a moment. “Bauldry clearly had mental-health issues. That’s not your fault.”
She shook her head and tipped her chin up. “I’ve told my story to other victims of violent crime before. The hope to create a bond and to show them I understand. I’m usually good at distancing myself from the story and the words. But being back in San Antonio is making it difficult to keep that distance.”
He knew when to press and when not to and realized now was not the time to dig into her old wound. He sat in silence for a moment, giving her a chance to regain control. And when they were finished, he gathered the trash and dumped it in the garbage.
As they settled in their seats his phone dinged with a text. “My daughter needs to be picked up at school. Do you mind?”
“No.”
“It won’t take much time.”
Mazur moved in and out of traffic. A couple of times he had to think twice about street choices and happily chose correctly each time. Twenty minutes later he pulled onto the tree-lined campus that blended old and new architecture.
Alyssa was sitting in front of the school on a stone bench, her backpack on her lap. She was a petite girl with blond hair that brushed her shoulders and framed a round face.
When she saw Mazur’s car, she grinned and hustled toward it.
As he got out of the car, she tossed him a pointed look that resembled many Kate had given him. “Thanks, Dad. We got out early and I didn’t want to wait for Mrs. White.”
He kissed her on the cheek and took her backpack as he opened the back door. “Going to have to put you in the back like a perp. Company today. Alyssa, this is Agent Kate Hayden.”
Alyssa slid into the backseat. “Hi, Agent Hayden.”
“Nice to meet you, Alyssa. Call me Kate.”
“So, are you the Fed working with Dad?”
“I am.”
“So what case are you working on?” Alyssa asked.
“Two murders,” Kate said.
Mazur slammed the back car door and glanced at Kate as he slid behind the wheel. “She doesn’t need the details, Dr. Hayden.”
Alyssa rested her folded arms on the front seat. “She likes details.”
“I have to honor your father’s wishes, Alyssa,” Kate said.
“Daaaad. I want to know about the case,” Alyssa said.
Mazur shook his head as he circled the parking lot back toward the main entrance. “Dr. Hayden, keep it G-rated.”
Kate frowned as if shuffling through her facts to choose the tamest. “Alyssa, we have one victim who was shot. I was summoned to town because there is evidence to suggest there might be a serial killer involved.”
Mazur glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see the kid’s eyes widen with keen interest.
“So, do you work cases like this all the time?” Alyssa asked.
“I do.”
“How long have you been with the FBI?”
“Seven years.”
“That is so cool,” Alyssa said. “What kind of cases have you worked?”
Mazur’s thoughts suddenly turned to the girl in Utah and the other horror cases Kate worked. He cleared his throat, determined to redirect. “What bit of advice can you give Alyssa about staying safe, Dr. Hayden?” Mazur inquired.
Kate turned in her seat and faced his girl. “Never, ever get into anyone’s car, even if they threaten to shoot you. You have a better chance with the bullet than if you get in the car.”
“Dad says that.”
“And always have your cell with you and the GPS locater activated.”
“Yes,” she groaned. “Dad says that, too.”
“If you’re ever fighting for your life, don’t get fancy and think a ninja kick to the groin is going to save you. He could grab your ankle, and then you’d be flat on your back with a cracked skull. A hard strike to the nose is effective, as well as biting. Play dead if you think it’ll work to your advantage.”
“Have you ever had to fight anyone off?” Alyssa asked.
“Once late last year. There was a man who was badly hurting women.” She glanced toward Mazur. “He figured out I was closing in on him so he came after me.”
“Did he hurt you?” Alyssa asked.
“He tried. But then I shot him.”
“Wow. Dad, can I have a gun?”
“No.”
Alyssa sighed. “Agent Hayden, you aren’t much taller than I am,” she said.
“Use it to your advantage,” Kate said. “Your attacker will underestimate you.”
Maybe, Mazur thought, but most people weren’t prepared to survive a monster’s attack. Adding fuel to his worries, his girl was pretty, outgoing, and not afraid to talk to strangers.
“Reverse pressure on a thumb works, or a punch to the throat,” Kate added. “And if you’re taken, try to leave clues behind for the people looking for you.”
They drove in silence for less than a half mile before Alyssa asked, “How did you get that scar on your face?”
“Alyssa,” Mazur said. “Don’t be nosy.”
“I barely notice the scar anymore,” Kate said. “I was shot.”
“Is that when your dad died?”
“You’ve been reading up on me,” Kate said.
“Sorry. Curious.”
“Curious is good. And yes, the scar is from that shooting.”
Mazur pulled into the gated community, paused at the guard station to show his ID, and drove Alyssa to an elegant Spanish-style home. The front door opened, and an older woman with graying hair appeared.
“Good, Mrs. White is home. I forgot my key again.” The words tumbled out of the girl as she got out of the car.
Mazur shook his head. “Not good, kiddo. Keep your keys handy.”
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Will do.”
He waited until she and the housekeeper disappeared into the house.
“Great kid,” Kate said.
“The best.”
At the Sanchez home there wasn’t a collection of expensive cars parked in front of the house. A black sash had been draped above the doors. “Looks like there aren’t a lot of people home,” he said.
“It would be better if we could talk to Isabella alone.”
He wasn’t interesting in upsetting the young woman, but he wasn’t opposed to pressing her for details. “Agreed.”
Kate and Mazur walked up to the front door, but before they could knock it was opened by a young woman with ebony-brown hair and the rich-brown eyes she’d inherited from her father. Her full lips were pulled into a strained frown, and the furrows in her brow ran deep.
“You’re the cops, right?”
Mazur pulled off his sunglasses. “Yes, ma’am. Are you Isabella Sanchez?”
“I am. Are you the two who talked to my father last night?”
“We are.”
The young woman leaned in a fraction. “I’m not supposed to talk to you without an attorney present. Dad’s pretty upset.”
“Is he here?” Kate asked.
“No. My father and Mr. Bennett are at the medical examiner’s office. They’re trying to get Gloria’s body released.”
“If you don’t want to talk to us, we understand,” Kate said in a soft voice. “We know this is a terrible time. I’ve lost a parent, and I understand how painful all this can be.”
“You lost a parent?” She slid her hands into her pockets. The gesture signaled she was closing off.
“My father,” she said. “He was also shot to death.”
“For real?”
“I was younger than you. Seventeen. We were in a parking lot, and a guy came out of nowhere and shot him. It’s tough. Tore my family apart.”
Kate’s tone was almost friendly. There was empathy behind the words but not the softness he’d seen when she spoke to Alyssa.
Tears welled in the girl’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if I’d seen it. I think I’d go insane.”
Kate didn’t speak, but she’d moved a half step closer to her as if trying to forge an invisible bond by simply creating closer proximity between them.
Isabella swiped a tear away as she glanced around. “Look, my father and Mr. Bennett aren’t here so come inside. It’s not like I’ve anything to give away.”
“Thanks,” Kate said.
Mazur allowed Kate to go first, and he trailed behind, happy to let her take over the line of questioning. She didn’t appear as stiff and controlled as she had in front of the cameras, and some of the tension had melted from her shoulders. Still, she was wound tight.
They sat in the spacious living room, Isabella on the couch with Kate close by. He settled in the chair across from them to give them space.
“Isabella, I hate to ask questions.” Kate absently touched the worn bracelet on her wrist. “But I have to.”
“Ask,” the girl said, shifting her body toward Kate.
“I was reading your father and stepmother’s financial statements. Nearly all their money is gone. Did either of them talk to you about money troubles?”
“Gloria ran the money show. A couple of times I asked her about it, but she said I shouldn’t worry. She said she had a talent for making money grow.”
“But kids hear things,” Kate said. “Surely Gloria and your father discussed money.”
“I heard them arguing when I was home over summer break. Dad wanted to pull out some cash but said their joint account was almost empty. She wanted to know why he needed the money right now, and he said he shouldn’t have to clear purchases with her. She told him he would have to wait a few weeks.”
“Do you have any thoughts on what was happening?”
“I don’t know. Gloria and Dad’s relationship had been kind of cool this year. They seemed to annoy each other. Nothing big. Just lots of little things. I asked Dad, and he said not to worry. It was regular couple stuff.”
“Was there anyone hanging around your father or stepmother who bothered you?” Mazur asked. “Anyone who would want to hurt them?”
“Not that I knew, but like I said, they always kept me separate from the business. I wanted to work in the dealership during summer breaks when I was in high school, but Gloria never would let me. She wanted me taking a class. Said my brain was my best asset.”
“What about the trips to Laredo to see her mother?” Kate asked. “Your stepmother was driving down to check in on her mother weekly, correct?”
“Gloria was going to Laredo? That’s weird.”
“What’s weird about it?”
“Gloria was always good about paying for Nina’s nursing home, but she didn’t visit her often.”
“Did they have a falling out?” Kate asked.
“Gloria never talked about it except once about five years ago. She’d had too much to drink and said Nina never approved of her marriage to my father.”
“Why was that?”
“My mom had only been dead about eight months when they got married. And Dad is fifteen years older than Gloria. Gloria said Nina thought it was a cursed match.”
“Nina said cursed?” Kate asked.
“Gloria also said that Nina was old school and believed Dad should have been in mourning for at least a year.”
“Do you remember your mom?” Mazur asked.
“Faint memories. I’ve pictures of us. In fact, Gloria took a bunch of pictures of Mom and me and put them in this beautiful scrapbook. It was really touching.”
“Your father said Gloria had a condo in Laredo so she had a place to stay when she visited,” Kate asked.
“Gloria has had the condo there for years.”
“What was it for?” Mazur asked.
“Her trips into Mexico.”
“Why did she go to Mexico?” Mazur pressed.
“She had clients down there who liked the high-end cars. Some paid top dollar, and when they did she sometimes would personally deliver the cars to them.”
“That’s some service.”
“Some of the cars cost over one hundred grand. She took care of clients like that because she said they’d come back to her when they had more money to spend.” The young woman frowned. “Do you think she was killed for one of the cars?”
“She wasn’t driving an expensive car. It was at least six years old and very nondescript,” Mazur said.
“Gloria usually doesn’t drive old cars,” Isabella said. “Not her style at all.”
“How was your stepmother feeling physically?” Kate asked.
“Fine, I guess. I saw her a month ago when she came to see me in Washington, and she seemed fine. She got a little tired her first night in town, but said it had been a long day. By morning she was fine. Why do you ask?”
“The medical examiner found a mass in your stepmother’s uterus,” Kate said.
Isabella’s head cocked. “What, like cancer?”
“Yes.”
Isabella blinked. “She never said a word to me. Are you sure? She would have told Dad, and he can never keep a secret.”
“The medical examiner is positive,” Kate said.
Isabella shook her head. “Jesus. She looked fine the last time I saw her. She was her usual self. Always on, if you know what I mean.”
“Can you explain?” Kate asked.
“I mean she was wearing makeup and had extra smiles. Although she could be like that when she was stressed.”
“What do you mean?”
“When she was worried, she always tried harder to be perfect. When the tough gets going, she put on more makeup. I guess now that I know about the cancer, that explains why she was upset.”
“When was she upset?” Kate asked.
“Christmas last year. I finished up exams early and arrived home a few days before they expected me. She was up in her room, listening to music and looking at pictures. I asked her what was wrong, and for a second I thought she was going to tell me. Then she smiled and said she was fine. I never saw her like that again.”
The front door opened and closed hard. Hurried footsteps echoed in the foyer and into the living room. Mazur rose and faced Mr. Sanchez.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded as his gaze skimmed to his daughter.
“It’s fine, Dad,” Isabella said as she rose. “They were just talking to me about Gloria.”
Sanchez crossed to his daughter. “I told you not to talk to them unless Bennett was here.”
Kate seemed more interested in the man’s mannerisms than his words. Her gaze focused first on his fisted fingers, then to the tension banding his shoulders.
“Why do I need an attorney?” Isabella asked. “The questions were straightforward. Did you know Gloria was sick?”
“You shouldn’t have told her,” Mr. Sanchez said to Mazur. “No good comes from telling her that.”
“I still don’t understand how your wife could have hidden her illness from you,” Kate said. “Were you two living apart?”
“No, of course not.” Sanchez sighed. “I had a sense she was off. She was quieter. More removed the last seven or eight months, but I didn’t know about the cancer until you told me.”
“You’re sure you didn’t know?”
“What does it matter now what was ailing my wife? It wasn’t the cancer that killed her but a serial killer’s bullet. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“Do you think that she knew the extent of her illness?” Kate asked.
He nodded. “Looking back now I think she did. When she was worried she tried extra hard at work, with friends, parties. She hosted several parties over the last couple of months.”
“If she knew she was sick, why did she go alone to Laredo so late at night?” Mazur asked.
Sanchez twirled his worn wedding ring. “You would have to know Gloria. She never slowed down. And if there was an obstacle in her way, she didn’t go around it. She went through it.”
Gloria Sanchez was a type-A personality who didn’t like limitations. Her husband might not have known about her illness, but Mazur wondered if she’d had a confidant. Since she worked eighty hours a week and was not close to her mother, it made sense she had friends at the office. “Which of your dealerships did she work out of?” Mazur asked.
“The one in central San Antonio,” Sanchez said.
“And you?”
“My shop is twenty miles west of town.”
“Did Gloria run all the offices?”
“She oversaw them. The day-to-day operations were handled by the individual branch managers.”
“Who managed the central branch?” Mazur asked.
“Lena Nelson.”
Mazur scribbled the name in a small notebook.
“Why do you want to talk to Lena? A serial killer murdered my wife.”
“I’m looking at all the angles, Mr. Sanchez,” Mazur said. “Thank you for your time.”