CHAPTER NINETEEN
My brother is anxious to get started. But I have cautioned him to wait. None of it matters unless we have a clean sweep of the board. Patience is a virtue.
San Antonio, Texas
Wednesday, November 29, 11:00 p.m.
Kate parked in front of her mother’s home. She sat for a moment, hating that her heart was racing and her thoughts would not calm. Her mother had prepared the yard in what she had called xeriscaping. She’d switched to rocks and succulents, declaring she was done with the constant yard work. She’d had the house repainted and a new roof put on, but the one-story rancher was almost as she remembered it.
Kate continued to sit and think. Her father had been dead seventeen years, but his mark on this land hadn’t been erased. The swing he’d hung for her still dangled under the large cypress tree. The front aggregate sidewalk was still the one laid by her brother and father. And she had helped her father build the side screened porch when she was fourteen.
The memories rushed and surrounded her. They reminded her of all that had been lost and told her to run. So easy to find a hotel room. So easy to keep running. She glanced back at the waiting officer and waved before she shut off the engine.
The front porch light clicked on, and she saw the curtains move. Her mother was up and waiting, as she’d expected, and had seen her. No escape now.
She grabbed her bag and walked up the sidewalk. Her brother was good at taking care of their mother. He wore the mantle their father had left as best he could. Whereas Kate had been frozen with grief and done everything she could to avoid this place, he’d stood fast. As cold and distant as he’d been to her, he had loved their mother. She understood his anger toward her had been born in grief and fear. But, as a sister, it stung deeply.
She reached for the front door handle as she’d done every day of her childhood. She wrapped her fingers around the cool metal and hesitated. This wasn’t her home anymore. Not really. She rang the bell and stepped back.
Footsteps sounded inside, and the screened door fluttered as the door behind it opened. She tightened her hand on her strap and raised her gaze to her mother.
She’d last seen her mother in May in Chicago. Kate had flown her up to the Windy City, and they’d spent several days visiting sites and eating out. It had been nice. Until her mother had invited her home for Christmas.
Her mother was tall and kept her frame trim. She wore her thick salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a ponytail and wore jeans, a loose sweater, and boots. Her mother beamed on the other side of the screened door.
“Kate. It’s so good to see you.” She pushed open the door and wrapped her arms around Kate. Her mother still smelled of Chanel, and her arms still held her tight when she hugged. With effort, Kate relaxed her body and raised a hand to pat her mother on her back. Her mother’s grip tightened for a moment, and then she released Kate.
“You still don’t like to be hugged,” her mother said.
“When it’s you, I don’t mind.” She smiled.
The marked car slowly pulled away.
“You can kid the rest of the world, but not me.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Come inside. Your room is ready.”
“I didn’t mean to surprise you like this. I can go to a hotel if I’m putting you out.”
“Kate, this is your home. You’re not putting me out. I’m glad you came. And don’t you ever ring that front bell again. Come inside!” She grinned. “When I saw you on the television, I thought you were going to sneak in and out of town without seeing me.”
“I almost did.”
Her mother laughed. “I do love your honesty. Are you hungry?”
“I am.”
“Skipping meals isn’t good for you, Kate.”
“You sound like the local cop I’m working with. He’s always trying to feed me.”
“I like the man already.” Her mother arched a brow. “Change clothes and I’ll make you scrambled eggs and a bagel, no butter, light on the cream cheese.”
The knot inside her eased a little. “Thanks, Mom.”
She moved toward her room, passing a family picture that hung in the hallway. It was the last family picture with her father. She was smiling, but like all her smiles, it was a bit flat. The others were grinning. She remembered the day the photo was taken. Her brother had been tugging on the end of her hair, doing his best to stoke her temper. She’d yelled. Her father had said something about putting his foot up asses if they didn’t settle down.
“Mitchell and Kate, knock it off.”
“They’re too much alike,” her mother had said.
“They’re night and day,” her father countered.
Her brother had glanced at her but hadn’t said a word. She knew he was glad they weren’t alike. She’d been about sixteen with no friends or a social life outside of chess club.
Her room was exactly as it had been when she was a teenager. A simple blush quilt lay on the double bed with the wrought-iron frame. No stuffed animals, dolls, or even extra pillows. A painting of mountains she’d done in art class. Her wooden desk with a clean blotter, pencils still sharp, notebook centered as it had been in college. Her chess set remained on an end table, the pieces still in midplay.
She carefully unpacked, hung up her clothes, and plugged her phone in by the nightstand. She laid out running shorts, top, and shoes in anticipation of rising early and going out in the morning. And she set out the clothes she’d wear tomorrow. Some things never changed.
After putting on sweats and a T-shirt, she slipped on flip-flops and moved down the hallway into the kitchen. Her mother was standing at the stove scrambling three eggs. Bagel slices warmed in the toaster.
Kate sat at the table and resisted the urge to dab at a couple of stray crumbs. There’d been lots of family dinners at this table. They’d been wild, raucous affairs with her brother, and though she’d always been quiet, she could always hold her own. She glanced toward the seat at the head of the table that had been her father’s. Her chest tightened. Guilt tugged at her.
“Why haven’t you redone my room?”
“Don’t know. Maybe I always held out hope you’d come back and would want something from it.”
She’d never wanted to come back, but now that she was here, she found an odd comfort that her room had remained the same. “You should remodel it, Mom. Or better, find a new place to live. Don’t you want to get out of the suburbs and live where there’s more to do?”
“There’s plenty to do here.”
“Mom, is it really good for you to stay here?”
“I like being around my memories. Maybe that isn’t the most ideal, but I like it. It’s peaceful. Lots of friends.”
Her mother set the eggs and bagel in front of her and sat at the table, sipping coffee and allowing her daughter to eat. Kate had loved these moments when she was a kid. Her mother understood her need for silence and yet was still content to be with her daughter.
“I saw you on the news,” her mother said. “You were front and center at this conference.”
“San Antonio had a shooting that was identical to the Samaritan killings. The local jurisdiction contacted me, and I’ve been investigating the case with a local detective.”
“You arrested the Samaritan months ago.”
“This killer knows intimate details of the other Samaritan murders.”
Her mother studied her, shaking her head. “I was married to a prosecutor for twenty-eight years and have given birth to two cops. I know when one of you is holding back. What aren’t you telling me?”
Kate sat back, doing her best to emit a relaxed confidence. “The killer asked for me by name. But given my recent media exposure, it’s not unexpected. Nothing to worry about.”
Sylvia shook her head. “You’d think I’d be used to all the talk about killers after all these years. But I still worry. Every day I dread a phone call like the one I received—”
The weight of blame grew heavier. “You can say it. The day my ex-boyfriend shot and killed Dad.”
Her mother laid her hand over Kate’s. “That boy shot you, too.”
“But I didn’t die.”
Her brows knotted. “I never blamed you. I’ve told you that a hundred times in every way I could.”
Mitchell had said as much, and all she could do was cower behind her logic. Never in her life had she ever found the words to express her feelings of regret and guilt.
Her mother stared at her, and she sat back and sipped her coffee.
“I pictured you as a scientist toiling happily away in your lab, not chasing killers like your brother and dad.”
She was proud that she was as much like them as she could be. “Genetics is hard to fight.”
“Your father was never more excited than when he won over a jury and sent a criminal to jail.” She patted Kate’s hand. “I thought at least one of my two children would have a little of me in them. I see so much of your father in you.”
Kate traced the rim of her cup with her finger. “Then why didn’t Dad and I ever spend more time together?”
“He never knew what to do with a girl. Never knew the right things to say. It’s why he drove you to school for the evening chess meets. He wanted to spend time with you.”
And he’d been killed.
As if sensing Kate’s thoughts, Sylvia said, “Tell me about your case. Don’t think you’ve deflected me from finding out more about this killer.”
Kate smiled. Her mother was sharp. “Do you remember Nina Hernandez? She was the housekeeper for the Bauldrys.”
“I saw her once or twice at the school. Her daughter was a little older than Mitchell. Nina was a striking woman. Very quiet.”
“What about her daughter, Gloria?”
“I never spoke to her, but your father did. She got into trouble when she was about seventeen. The senior Mr. Bauldry spoke to your father directly and smoothed things over.”
“What did she do?”
“She vandalized the car of one of the cheerleaders. A stupid prank that ended up doing quite a bit of damage to the car.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Or if something did happen I never heard about it.”
Kate dabbed a crumb on her plate with her thumb. “I saw Mitchell.”
Her mother’s posture stiffened. “Really.”
“He came by my hotel.”
“Did he behave himself?”
“He was very gracious. He said he was sorry.”
“He is. You know him. He’s not a talker. But every holiday you weren’t here after Sierra died troubled him.”
She shook her head. “I should accept his peace offering and move on.”
“Will you?”
She’d missed her family. They’d all lost, but she’d lost her home, father, and brother. “I’ll try.”
Her mother waited until Kate had finished eating. “Back to this killer, Kate. Who is he?”
“Have you heard from William Bauldry?”
Her mother straightened, and the softness around her eyes and mouth vanished. “I know he’s been out of jail since January 5. Has he been bothering you again?”
“No. I haven’t seen him. Has he contacted you?”
Her mother’s lips flattened. “No.”
“No odd sense that you’re being followed? No notes or letters or flowers?”
“None of that. Do you think he would do all that again?”
“No. I’m just reviewing all the angles. He was pretty obsessed with this family and especially me toward the end.”
“None of us realized he’d go to such extremes.”
“Do me a favor and be extra careful. I think he’s close and he’s watching, just like he used to.”
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”
“I would like you to go and stay with Mitchell until I finish this.”
“I love your brother, but I’m not staying with him. I can take care of myself.”
Her father had spoken similar words before he’d been shot. “What about staying with your sister? Aunt Lydia always likes to see you.”
“You’re chasing a killer, and you expect me to run off like a frightened child and stop worrying about you?”
“I’m partnered with Detective Mazur. He’s a good cop and has my back. I’ll be fine.”
“Detective Mazur sounds like a man who has sense.”
“He’s very reasonable.” There was a calm steadiness around him she found appealing. “But I would feel better if you visited Aunt Lydia.”
Her mother shook her head. “Hell no, I’m not running.”
“Just for a week or so, Mom. I could send you and Aunt Lydia on a cruise.”
“We don’t need an expensive cruise.”
“I can’t afford expensive, Mom. You’d both be getting the economy cruise.”
Her mother laughed. “I love your honesty. But I’ve made up my mind.”
“You need to. I know William. If he’s out there, he needs to believe he can get to me. He won’t, of course. But he needs to believe it. I can’t do my job and worry about you.”
“You sound like your father.”
“Mom, please. Do it for me.”
Her mother gathered up her cup and Kate’s plate and let out a sigh. “I’ll drive up to Dallas and see my sister for a week or so. But I’m calling your brother and telling him what’s going on. Last I checked, I’m still in charge of this family.”
“Mom, William knows that the best way to throw me off or hurt me is to kill you or Mitchell without a second thought.”
“No one cares about me. And your brother is a Texas Ranger and a former Army Ranger. I think Mitchell will be fine.”
“Dad was a former cop and prosecutor.”
Her mother raised her chin, then shook her head. “We all underestimated William back then. None of us will do that again.”
“Okay. Tell Mitchell. He listens to you better than me.”
“Of course. Now, would you please get some sleep? You look exhausted.”
Kate stifled a yawn. “I could use more sleep. I’m still running a deficit.”
“Go on. I put clean sheets on the bed when I saw you on television.”
“You were so sure I’d visit.”
“I hoped.” Her mother kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Kate rose and walked back to her room. She pulled the comforter back; the scent of laundry soap rose up from the sheets, and it reminded her of her childhood. She checked each of her three windows to make sure they were locked and secured. Only then did she lie down and shut off her light. Moonlight cut across the white ceiling and the pencil drawing of a horse her father had done for her when she was six and afraid of the dark.
Tears filled her eyes and slid down the sides of her face. It was good being home.
The shrill sound of Kate’s phone yanked her from a restless slumber. She glanced at her phone. The display read BLOCKED. It was 4:59 a.m. She hesitated, then clearing her throat, answered the call. “Dr. Hayden.”
“Katie.”
Half awake, the soft-spoken voice didn’t register immediately. “Who is this?”
“You don’t know?”
A familiarity in the speaker’s tone sent an uneasy tremor up her spine. “Who is this?”
“This is William.”
She sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Her heart raced into high gear, pounding against her chest. “How did you get this number?”
“Don’t you remember how good I am with computers, Katie? It’s easy.”
“I remember. Where are you?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and moved to her briefcase. She dug out a minirecorder, clicked it on, and held it close to the receiver.
“I’m traveling. My housekeeper told me you came by. Why did you come to see me, Katie? Did you miss me?”
Katie. It was the nickname reserved for her family, and for the few months they’d dated, she’d allowed him to use it. “It’s Dr. Hayden.”
He chuckled. “You were always Katie to me.”
“That was before you shot me and killed my father.”
“I was terribly sick in those days. I know the way I stalked you wasn’t right. I was having trouble with my medications. I paid the price.”
“My father is still dead.”
Silence crackled. “I sent flowers to his memorial service. I wrote that I was sorry in the card.”
The memorial service had been delayed three weeks so Kate could heal. Seventeen years had done nothing to temper her pain. The thought of reliving it now with him made her sick.
William had been a master manipulator when they’d played chess. He would set traps, try to get in her head, anything to dominate her. Not now. Not ever again.
“I want to talk to you about Gloria Sanchez,” she said.
“Gloria and I were old friends. Why are we talking about Gloria?”
Of course, he knew the answer. This was another layer to the game. “She was shot and killed off of I-35 near San Antonio.”
“That’s terrible. But I don’t know anything about that.” He sounded almost coy.
Her gaze steady, she was barely breathing. “It’s been all over the news.”
“I’ve always thought so much of you, so I guess I’ll believe you.”
“Did you shoot her?”
“Why would I kill Gloria?”
He’d not said her or that woman, but he’d said Gloria in a way hinting of familiarity. She pressed, “Did she do something that made you angry? What was it about her that drove you to shoot her?”
“Sounds like you’ve already made your mind up about me.” He didn’t sound upset but amused.
“Gloria’s mother worked for your father.”
He was silent for a moment. “Really? I don’t remember.”
His tone had shifted, suggesting she might have hit a nerve. “You remember everything. You and Nina were close.”
“I don’t remember.”
That was a lie, but for her to challenge him would ensnare her in an endless loop of accusations and denial. “You enjoy manipulating people.”
He chuckled. “You have a harsh view of me. But there was a time when you loved me. I still remember the feel of your naked breast in my hand.”
She wouldn’t allow rage or regret to overwhelm her. “How long had Nina been with your family when you were born?”
“Why do you keep asking about Nina?” His voice was soft, curious. “She’s tucked away safe and sound.”
“Did Gloria tell you about Nina? Did she tell you she paid for five years’ worth of care in advance?”
He chuckled. “My goodness, you have been digging. That’s what I like about you. You’re smart, disciplined, but most of all, you’re persistent. And no beating around the bush. You get right to the point.”
“Why Gloria?” It was important to stay focused. “Why shoot a woman you’ve known since you were a child?”
“What are your theories?”
“I never saw you two together when we were younger. She was married by then. But I remember Nina talking about her daughter. She was so proud of her. Nina was also good to you. I remember how fond you were of her.”
“Was I?”
She gripped the phone. He was evading her questions, knowing he was frustrating her. She tamped down her rising temper. “There was another murder.”
“Another one? Terrible. Is a pattern emerging, Katie, or are you paranoid?”
Rebecca Kendrick’s name had not been released to the media, and she wouldn’t discuss the case details with him now. “Did you kill this second woman?”
“That’s a riddle you’re going to have to solve. I just wanted you to know I received your message. You look beautiful, by the way. Television suits you. Your mother must be so proud. She looks good, by the way.”
She swallowed anger and fear and resisted the urge to tell the monster to leave her mother alone. “We need to meet.”
He chuckled. “I doubt that would be wise now. I’ve no doubt Detective Mazur will be tagging along.”
He was paying very close attention if he knew about Mazur. She glanced around the room almost as if she expected to see him standing there.
“I’ll call again soon. I like talking to you, Katie. I’ve missed you.”
The line went dead.
For a long moment she sat there, her heart racing in her chest. Her hands trembled. She glanced at the clock. It read 5:01 a.m. The call had lasted less than two minutes. Not long enough to trace or track. William was always thinking. But his tone suggested arrogance, as if he knew how this contest would end. Good. Let him overplay his hand.
Kate dialed Mazur. He picked up on the third ring, and when he barked his name into the phone, his voice was heavy and rough. No need to ask him if she’d awakened him. She had.
“I received a call from William Bauldry,” she said.
“Kate.” He cleared his throat. “When did he call?”
“Minutes ago. I taped the call.”
“And?”
“I asked him directly about the murders. He wouldn’t give me a straight answer. Did he or didn’t he kill those women? It’s a riddle as far as he’s concerned.”
She heard a light click on. “Do you think he did it?”
“Yes. He could have denied it, but he didn’t. My accusations amused him.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” She rose and paced back and forth. Nervous energy snapped through her body. “His number was blocked, and if he was using a burner, my guess is he’s disabled it by now.”
“Are you still at your mother’s house?”
“Yes.”
“I can be there in half an hour.”
She glanced down at her trembling hand and drew in a breath as she flexed her fingers. It had been a long time since she felt this rattled and unsteady. “That’s unnecessary. Get a few more hours’ sleep. I don’t want William to think he’s under my skin. Plus, I’ll need you to rest up. You’re going to need it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Very.”
“I’ll see you in a few hours.”
William stared at Katie as she paced by the edge of her bed. She was so tense and nervous. She’d acted so cool and calm on the phone, and for a moment he thought he’d not gotten to her, but he had.
He watched as she tossed her phone on the unmade bed. It didn’t surprise him that she’d called Mazur. He was her partner in this case, and Katie, if anything, stuck to procedure. She was so predictable, even at chess . . . most of the time.
Thinking about Mazur irritated him. He didn’t like the way the cop’s gaze tracked her a little too closely. She was a unique woman, and no doubt the detective wanted in her pants almost as badly as he did.
As Kate stripped off her nightgown and moved to her suitcase to slip on her bra, he leaned in closer to the screen and watched. He grew hard and thought about what it had been like to touch those breasts and to kiss them.
When he’d first met Kate, he’d been smitten. Puppy love, some might have said. It had taken him months to summon the nerve to ask her out. And when he had, he’d been shocked when she’d said yes. They’d dated for several weeks, and she’d grown to really like him. On what was their last date, he’d walked her home and had kissed her. She’d given in to his touch and kissed him back. He’d felt her hunger. Her need. He’d been so hard.
She’d tensed, but he’d told himself that was her excitement. When she’d whispered no in his ear, he’d thought her a tease. He’d kept kissing her, and when she pushed him away, he grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. She’d kicked and cried, but her fear only excited him more. He stripped off her pants, freed himself, and pressed into her, feeling her tightness and her nervous energy. That moment had been so perfect that he replayed it over and over in his head. He’d expected more from her, but after the best day of his life, she’d been cool, distant. She’d flinched when he tried to touch her. When he’d finally said good night, her father had been waiting.
He wouldn’t see her again for another month. She’d been too busy. She had plenty of excuses why she couldn’t see him.
Finally at a chess tournament he’d seen her. He wanted to talk to her about what they’d shared, but contact and conversation were limited. When her gaze reached his, he’d seen strain. Her fingers were tense and her body so still when they’d played in the finals.
He was so in love with her.
“Where have you been?” he’d whispered as he moved a pawn forward.
“I can’t see you anymore.”
“Is it because of your father? He doesn’t like me.”
She’d pressed the tip of her index finger on a bishop and moved it three diagonal spaces.
She didn’t meet his gaze.
“It has nothing to do with my father.”
“You love me. You let me be the first.”
She shook her head as her fingers curled into tight fists. “That was a mistake.”
He stared at her, barely able to think clearly. She’d stayed focused and continued to play. She was much better. This time she beat him.
After that night he walked by her house often. He would stand in the shadows and stare at her at night. Once in a while he’d see her pass in front of a window. He would stare toward her, willing her to see him, but she never did.
More and more William became convinced that she was a prisoner in her home. And it was his mission to put an end to her imprisonment.
Once his mission was clear, then it was a matter of planning. He followed her father, noting his daily habits, his moves, and when he was alone.
That night in the dark parking lot, he’d seen her emerge from the building and walk toward the car. He’d been so focused on her that he hadn’t seen her father, who had shouted for him to put the gun down. He’d fired, shooting Mr. Hayden first.
Kate’s piercing scream had shifted his focus. He took aim at her, determined to destroy her heart as she’d destroyed his. He fired, but she’d pivoted. The bullet had sliced her leg. When she dropped, he fired again, but this time he was more nervous and his hand shook. The bullet cut across her face. Blood gushed, and he’d thought he’d killed her.
He ran. Though when he stopped to catch his breath nearly a mile away from the scene and slid into his father’s car, his body was alive with fear and a triumphant rush he’d never experienced.
He’d never expected to be so excited or to enjoy the thrill of the kill.
Later, after his arrest, he learned she was alive and that he had failed. In the courtroom, she’d been very precise when she testified against him. Mitchell had railed his frustration at the sentencing hearing, but Kate hadn’t spoken a word.
Over the last seventeen years, he’d followed her work after she joined the FBI. She kept a low profile, but he paid close attention and made it a point to track her development. What case she was solving. Though he wanted to hate her, he took pride in her wins. She rose through the ranks and was one of the best agents in the country. She liked to chase killers, so he’d decided to become the ultimate killer.
He watched as she dressed in her blue slacks and white shirt. He liked the way the fabric clung to her breasts. But the pants and matching jacket were too dark and heavy for her small frame. When the time came, he would ask her to dress differently.
She paced the room. His call had upset her. Made her restless. She wanted to go for a run, but wouldn’t dare in the dark.
He traced the outline of her body on the screen and smiled. “Come and get me, Katie. Find me. You know you want me.”
She studied every corner of the room as if searching. For an instant, she stared toward the window. She thought someone was looking through the window, never realizing the camera and microphone were hidden in the grate.
Those pale-blue eyes cut into him. And he recoiled before he reminded himself she couldn’t see him.
She thought she was smarter than he was, but she underestimated him. That would be the first lesson she would learn from him.
“Are you worthy of what I’ve planned for you, Katie? Are you up for the challenge? I hope you are, because I want a good fight before I checkmate you.”