CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Knowledge is power. Always pays to be nice until nice no longer serves you.
San Antonio, Texas
Tuesday, November 28, 10:45 p.m.
After dropping Kate off at the car rental place, Mazur swung by his ex-wife’s house, hoping he had a little time with Alyssa before she went to bed at eleven. He strode up the front walk, noting the new BMW in the driveway. Sherry had always liked the finer things, and with this new job she was making serious bank.
Sherry had purchased a patio-style home in a community that took care of the lawn and common areas, provided a nice swimming pool and a fitness center, and hosted a bunch of fancy events ranging from wine tastings to concerts. When they’d married, they’d been so damn much in love. He’d have bet his right arm that they’d have made the long haul. But when he’d joined homicide the relationship frayed with every missed meal, late night, and missed birthday. Caleb’s birth hadn’t been planned, but he and Sherry had seen the boy as a second chance. For a few months, it looked like they’d turned a corner. And then he’d died. The grief shattered them both completely.
When Sherry asked for a divorce it hadn’t been unexpected, but it had been a kick in the balls. For a long time, he’d mourned the marriage, and he would always be sorry that they’d failed Alyssa.
He rang the bell. High heels clicked in the hallway, and the door snapped open. Sherry was dressed in a fitted skirt, white blouse, and heels that made her legs look great. She’d pulled her blond hair into a twist.
“Theo,” she said, smiling in a slightly uncomfortable way. “Alyssa told me you might be coming.”
“Sorry I didn’t call, Sherry. I only have a few minutes.”
Her smile didn’t waver, but the glint in her eyes turned brittle. “I understand. It’s not a problem. In fact, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Sure.”
“Dad!” Alyssa appeared at the end of hallway. She wore sweats, an oversize Chicago PD T-shirt, and socks.
“Hey, kiddo.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. Seemed every time he saw her she was a couple of inches taller.
“We just ordered pizza. Why don’t you join us?”
He glanced to Sherry, who smiled. “Absolutely. Join us. The three of us haven’t eaten together in ages.”
He followed them into a kitchen outfitted with white marble countertops, stainless-steel appliances, and a crystal chandelier. French doors led to an enclosed backyard and a night sky full of stars.
On the counter were two boxes of pizza. One was cheese for Alyssa and the other was pepperoni and sausage, which was his favorite. She must really have something important to say if she was trying to order his favorite.
Alyssa handed him a plate, and he dropped a couple of slices on it. “Eat up.”
Sherry moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold soda. She popped the top and set it in front of him. “I have beer, but you said you have to get back to work.”
“This is perfect.”
“Great.”
As Alyssa told him about her day, Sherry walked to a wet bar and filled a glass with ice and vodka. She took a sip and then another before joining them.
They made small talk for the better part of fifteen minutes. He had to give Sherry credit. She was trying, and she had never denied him any time with Alyssa, often working around his crazy schedule to make sure their daughter saw him.
When Alyssa’s phone buzzed she glanced at it. “I’ve got to take it. It’s about the math test.”
“Take it in your room,” Sherry said. “Dad and I’ll wait for you.”
Alyssa glanced up at him. “Don’t leave.”
“Not going anywhere, kiddo.”
She hurried down the hallway, the phone pressed to her ear.
“So what’s up, Sherry?”
She sipped her vodka. “I’ve been transferred.”
He dropped the remains of his slice and wiped his hands with a paper towel. So his and Alyssa’s gut reaction had been right. “To where?”
“Washington, DC.”
He’d uprooted his life when he moved from Chicago to San Antonio. Now he and Alyssa were trying to make this place home, and Sherry wanted to leave again. He’d pulled strings to get the San Antonio job but doubted he had any more aces up his sleeve. “When?”
“Four weeks.”
He balled up the napkin and tossed it on the counter. “Have you told Alyssa?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re going to pull her out before the semester is over?”
Sherry drew in a breath. “I was hoping she could stay with you. I can get an apartment there and get my bearings. The first few weeks on the job are going to be crazy.”
“Of course. And then at the end of the school year, are you going to move her east?”
“I thought the end of the semester. Holidays are never great for the three of us anymore.”
“And I’m supposed to just find another job?” Frustration and anger bled through the words. Sherry had had to petition an Illinois judge to take their daughter out of state, who’d reluctantly agreed.
She traced the rim of her glass with a polished nail. “I never asked you to move here. I don’t expect you to move there.”
“I’m supposed to watch my only living child walk out of my life.”
Ice clinked in the glass as she swirled it. “I’ve never denied you visitation.”
“No. You just keep trying to put distance between me and my kid. If I want to see my daughter on a regular basis, I’ll have to move again.”
A muscle pulsed in her jaw. “She’s growing up. Soon she won’t need either of us.”
“She’s not there yet, Sherry. And until she does really leave the nest, I’m going to be a part of her life.” He didn’t want to get into a pissing match with her, but he was finding it hard to be civil. “She can move in with me at any time.”
“It’s only temporary, Theo.”
“So you’ve said. By my count, I’ve got a month before Alyssa and I have to turn our lives inside out again for your fucking career.”
“This is a really good job, Theo. I’ll be making the kind of money that will allow Alyssa to attend the best schools. She’s smart and can go to any college in the country now.”
He’d known from the start he’d married over his head when he said I dos with Sherry. She was smart and savvy, and he was always a little surprised she’d never reached for the big time. After their son had died, reaching higher kept her mind off the pain.
“When do you fly to Washington?”
“Saturday.”
“You’re shittin’ me. You just said four weeks.”
“I’m looking for a place to live and need to meet the people in the DC office.” She raised her chin. “I have no choice.”
“We all have choices, Sherry.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to fight.”
He did. But with Alyssa in the other room, he’d have to find his pound of flesh somewhere else. “I’ll be ready for her.” His voice sounded tight. “Do you want me here when you tell Alyssa?”
She looked up, eyes filled with pain. “It’s not necessary.”
“Excuse me. I want to see Alyssa.”
“That’s it?” she asked.
“What do you want me to say, Sherry?”
She stared at him a long moment. “That you understand.”
He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight with emotion. “I understand you’re still running from the pain. Hell, that’s part of the reason I left Chicago. But so far neither one of us has done a good job of it.”
Mazur moved down the hallway and found Alyssa lying on her white four-poster bed with the phone pressed to her ear. The room was painted a pale pink, and the posters on the walls were a bunch of teenage boys he doubted he’d like if he ever met them.
“Dad?” she asked, cupping her hand over the phone.
“I’ve got to go, Alyssa, but we’re on for the weekend.” If by some act of God the murder investigation didn’t spill over into his free time.
“I’ll see you then?”
He kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, kid.”
She hugged him. “Is Dr. Hayden going to be with you?”
“We’re working a case, kiddo. If we aren’t working, then there’s no reason for us to be together.”
“I like her.” And giggling, she added, “And I think you do, too.”
He did like Kate, but their relationship was professional and temporary at best. Still, he asked, “Why do you say that?”
She rolled her eyes and then glanced toward the door to make sure her mother wasn’t there. “It’s the way you talk around her.”
“How’s that?”
“Friendly. Relaxed.”
He shook his head. “Maybe you should be an FBI profiler.”
Her eyes sparked with interest. “Maybe I should.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Love you, Dad.”
“You, too, kiddo.”
He gave her one final squeeze. By the time he reached her door and glanced back, she was already lost in conversation with her friend. He moved back down the hallway, wondering where it had all gone wrong.
Sherry cut around the counter. “Theo, I’m not running.”
At the rate he was going, a move east would have him back in uniform working a beat or as some kind of rent-a-cop. Fuck. But if that was what it took to be in his kid’s life, he’d figure it out. The fact that Kate was based at Quantico somehow softened the blow of moving again. “Could have fooled me, Sherry.”
When he closed the front door behind him, it slammed shut with a little too much force. He strode to his car and slid behind the wheel, releasing the breath he’d been holding. He glanced in the rearview mirror and spotted Sherry standing at the door watching him.
Mazur drove off, grateful to return to the office. The drive went faster than he expected, and when he arrived at his desk, he was happy to see the phone records for Martin Sanchez had arrived.
He brewed a fresh cup of coffee, then slid off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He sipped the coffee, not wincing at the taste. Kate had cleaned the pot and machine again. Thank God for small favors.
Seconds later Palmer entered the bull pen and dropped her oversize purse in her chair. “I heard those records were coming tonight. Couldn’t resist taking a peek.”
He dropped half the stack in front of her. “You know the drill. We’ll start with the numbers he calls the most and then work our way back from there.”
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Ah, I bet you saw the ex.”
A smirk on her face undercut some of his annoyance. “What if I did?”
“They do know which buttons send us into a crazy spin. It’s a wonder I didn’t murder mine and bury his ass in a shallow grave.”
He sat down. “Might not want to say that too loud.”
“He’s alive and breathing, but I do have a perfect alibi when the time comes.”
Mazur shook his head. “Read.”
She sat and opened the first file. She read for less than a minute before she looked up and sighed. “We’re partners, you know. You can tell me anything.”
He could feel her gaze. “Read.”
“I mean it. I’m not like the other assholes in this cowboy department.”
“I know.”
She muttered a curse. “Any phone number in particular that I’m looking for?”
“Lena Nelson. She’s the manager of their premier showroom and a big fan of his.” He rattled off the number.
“Like in ol’ Marty had a thing going on the side?”
“Kate got that vibe, too.”
Palmer rubbed her palms together. “Now it’s getting interesting.”
“Maybe.”
A few minutes went by. “What’s it like working with her?”
“Kate Hayden? She’s smart, objective.”
“I can’t get a read on her at all. For a fembot, she is actually likeable in a weird sort of way.”
“There’s a sense of humor lurking in there, which gives me hope.”
“I heard you’re looking for Bauldry,” she said.
“Kate and I checked his house, his brother’s home, and also the family farm. No sign of him. I’ve put a BOLO out on him with the deputy in Medina County. He’s sending a deputy to check out his house again as well as the Medina property.”
“You heard about Kate’s old man, right?”
“Murdered by Bauldry.”
“Did you know she was this big chess whiz and so was Bauldry? They played a tournament together and it didn’t end well for him.”
He looked up, knowing Palmer wouldn’t rest until her curiosity was satisfied. “You know a lot.”
She scooted forward on her chair a fraction and leaned forward. “Maybe I’m friends with a few of the ladies in records. And I bring doughnuts when I need a favor.”
“Why’d you look her up?”
“Curiosity. She’s not the first who went to work for law enforcement after a tragedy.” She glanced around and pulled a thick binder from her desk drawer. “Want to see the file?”
“You pulled the father’s murder file?”
“I did.” No hint of apology.
“Yeah, I’ll have a look.” He thumbed through the file, stopping on a picture taken of Kate at the age of seventeen. The light-brown hair was longer and the face a little rounder, but she had the same serious look as today.
“It’s a miracle she survived,” Palmer said. “The shooter hit her in the thigh and then the face. She nearly bled out.”
He turned to William Bauldry’s mug shot. The boy barely looked old enough to shave. His face was thin, his eyes dark and wild. But this scared kid had shot a man dead in cold blood and nearly killed Kate.
“William Bauldry,” he said, reading up on the young man. “Brilliant. Controlled and very aware of what he did and why. Dated Kate for a short while. They broke up, and he became obsessed with her.”
“Maybe William also became obsessed with Gloria Sanchez. Maybe he shot her?” Palmer said.
He closed the murder file. “Believe me, finding William Bauldry is at the top of my list. But I still can’t rule out Sanchez. He was first on the scene, he had his wife’s blood on him, and the couple was having financial problems. Not to mention the first wife died in a car accident.”
“Don’t forget, he was stepping out on this wife and most likely the last.”
“Martin Sanchez had a lot of good reasons to have his wife die.”
It took less than a half hour to spot a pattern of calls between Martin Sanchez and another unidentified number. Whomever he was talking to, they’d been speaking for over a year, daily and for extended periods of time.
“Think this is a girlfriend?” Mazur asked.
Palmer reached for her phone and dialed. “No better way to find out.” She held the phone out as a recorded message played. “This is Rebecca. I’m out. Call me again, baby.” “She sounds young and sexy to me.”
“Was she young and hot enough for him to want to leave his wife?” He ran his hand down his tie. “I don’t suppose Gloria Sanchez had a life insurance policy.”
“Funny you should ask. I’ve done some digging. Gloria had a two-million-dollar policy listing her husband as the beneficiary.” Palmer shook her head as she absently tapped her index finger on the records. “Sanchez has a mistress, Rebecca? And he decides to kill his old lady so they can live happily ever after?”
“Maybe,” Mazur said.
All the dots logically connected to Martin. Mazur should have been feeling pretty good knowing he might be on the heels of closing a high-profile case. So why didn’t he?
“Everything the Samaritan has done so far could have been dug up in the papers,” Palmer said. “It’s all just so perfect.”
“I’d like to run it by Dr. Hayden and get her feedback.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, and a slight grin tugged the edge of her lips. “Are you attracted to the fembot?”
“Kate?”
“No, the other fembot. Of course Kate.”
He didn’t quite meet her gaze as he shook his head. “That’s the last thing I’d need right now.”
Palmer sang, “Theo’s got a girlfriend.”
He’d lured Kate Hayden to San Antonio with the Samaritan, who had ended Gloria Sanchez’s life with one shot. Now, it was time to morph into another killer from Kate’s files and claim another victim, one who would not enjoy a quick and merciful death.
He stood in the shadows, waiting for the woman to leave the coffee shop that was scheduled to close soon. The street was quiet, and the back alley where she parked her car was shrouded in deep shadows.
She had dark hair, pale-white skin, and a slim, athletic figure that any man would gladly bed. If it were in the game plan, he’d do her in a heartbeat. But fucking her wasn’t part of the plan.
He waited, watching her duck down the side alley that led to her car. She rummaged in a large purse as she fumbled with keys until her thumb pressed the “Unlock” button on her fob. She opened the back driver’s side door, dumped her purse on the seat, and slammed the door closed.
His head covered in a hoodie, he followed her, keeping his hands tucked and his head down. He could move quickly when he put his mind to it, and speed was most important now. As he approached she was opening her driver’s door. He quickened his pace. When gravel sounded under his boots, her body tensed and she turned.
Her gaze widened, startled. First, there was a flash of recognition, then fear. She gripped her keys and tried to hurl herself into her car. She was quick enough to close her door, but he was fast enough to stop her from locking him out.
He stabbed the needle into her back, and she arched back. He silenced her scream with a gloved hand over her mouth and held her close to his chest, giving the fast-acting sedative time to course through her body. She grabbed his hands with hers, desperately trying to pry open his grip. A car drove down the street, and he yanked her deeper into the dark. Cries became a moan as her muscles lost their tension and worry. She slumped back against the seat.
“That’s right,” he whispered against her ear. “Give in. It’ll be so much easier if you just let go.”
She tried to shake her head, but the movement was slight. Finally her hands dropped to her sides, her keys clinked against the ground, and her face tipped forward.
“That’s a good girl,” he said.
He grabbed her under her arms, and snatching up her keys, he dragged her toward the car’s trunk. He opened it and placed her inside. She lay helpless before him, her head turned, her neck exposed, her full breasts pressing against a white blouse.
He laid his hand on her breast, savoring the softness. He grew hard and wondered what it would be like to strip her naked and slide into her as he pretended she was Kate.
Drawing in a breath, he squeezed her breast once more and pulled back. Rape was not on his list.
He slammed the trunk closed, savoring a rush of excitement that was more potent than any opiate. Killing was so sweet, so intoxicating; he knew he would never stop unless Kate caught him.
He slid behind the wheel of the car and started the engine. He’d already mapped out where he was going and what would happen next. It was all falling into place.
He drove through town and onto the southbound interstate, driving until he found the barren stretch of road where he had planned to finish his evening’s work.
He pulled off onto the access road and wound his way along a side street past fields of scrub, rock, and red soil. He slowly drove off the road and parked.
He popped the trunk and found the woman still lying on her side. The drug he’d chosen wouldn’t last long, and if he judged her weight correctly, she’d be awake in minutes.
A soft moan rose in her chest as he hoisted her on his shoulder and carried her to the spot that had been so carefully staged.
He placed her on the ground and spread her arms and legs wide. He tied her feet first and moved to her right hand. As he fumbled with the knot, she looked at him with hazy eyes and screamed. She reached out with her left hand and scraped his arm. He slapped her hard on her face, stunning her. He finished securing her right hand.
Her eyes were wide and full of fear as he carefully fanned out her dark hair. She tried to raise her head, but he hit her again. “Don’t move or it’ll be far worse.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Payback is a bitch.”
His fingers brushed the sheath hooked to his belt, and he removed the long knife. She screamed again, and this time he jerked a rag from his back pocket and shoved it in her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes.
Straddling the woman, he carefully unbuttoned her blouse, slid the tip of the knife under her bra, and exposed her breasts. Her nipples hardened in the cool night air and made him want her so badly.
The surge of power filled him as he stared up at the crescent moon. He gripped the knife in his hand. The woman moaned and her eyes fluttered. He waited a beat, knowing she needed to see him.
The rag muffled more screams as he scraped the tip of the knife along her bare skin. She flinched. “Time to pay the piper.”
She jerked hard against her restraints several times before the tight ropes cut into the flesh of her wrists.
When she stared up at him, pure panic sharpened her gaze. She would have given him anything, absolutely anything to gain her freedom.
He adored that look of shock and terror. “It’s not a bad dream,” he said. “It’s quite beautiful.”
She croaked out a strangled cry as he pressed the knife slowly into her right breast, between the rib cage and her lung. Then quickly he yanked the knife free and studied her face. It was all he could do not to come.
There was a pattern to the remaining cuts he would place on her beautiful body. This was the next item on the list.
He jabbed the knife over and over into her body, finishing at number thirteen with a slice across her neck. He was breathless, and his hands were wet with her blood. As she struggled to breathe he drew closer to her face as her last breath brushed over her lips.
He whispered, “Goodbye.”
He rose to his feet and staggered away from her, drawing in a breath as he calmed his racing heart. Using the gun to kill had been exciting, but this, he thought, looking at the knife dripping with blood, was an even bigger high.
He sheathed the knife and moved toward the body, stepping around the pool of blood seeping into the hard red soil. Carefully he dipped his gloved index finger into the pool of warm blood and drew an eye on her forehead. Satisfied with his work, he pushed the tip of the knife into her left eye socket and dug out the eyeball. He laid the bloody prize on her chest and repeated the process with the right eye. Carefully he bagged both trophies.
He pulled out a burner phone and snapped pictures of the lifeless woman. Once he was a safe distance away, he’d call in the murder, knowing there would be no way the local cops wouldn’t call Kate.