CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
New Year’s resolution: burn it all down.
San Antonio, Texas
Friday, December 1, 11:00 a.m.
Kate was in the conference room reviewing her notes on William when a uniformed officer knocked and entered. “Sorry to bother you, but there’s a Mark Westin here to see you. He said he’s the attorney for Charles Richardson.”
She let her pen drop and for a moment didn’t speak. “Where is he?”
“He’s in the front reception.”
“Right. I’ll be right there.”
When the door closed, she rolled her head from side to side trying to work some of the stiffness out. She’d dealt with Mr. Westin when Richardson had been arraigned, and the judge, based on her testimony, denied bail. Richardson had been furious, but Westin had taken it in stride, knowing there’d be other opportunities to help his client.
She slid on her jacket, pulled a brush from her backpack along with lipstick. Chin up, she closed her laptop, shoved it into her backpack, and dropped it in Mazur’s cubicle. He was on the phone. She mouthed, “Can I leave this here?”
He nodded and cupped his hand over the phone. “What’s going on?”
“Richardson’s defense attorney is in the lobby.”
Ignoring his frown, she wove through the cubicles toward the elevator and rode it down to the first floor. The scent of cologne greeted her as she stepped into the lobby. The room was buzzing with activity. In one corner, a mother and child were waiting. In another, a couple of cops were in a heated discussion. At the front desk a man in jeans, an old plaid shirt, and worn boots was shouting at the police sergeant behind the desk.
Westin stood by the front door. He wore his trademark handmade suit, white monogrammed shirt, red tie, and polished Italian wing tips.
She crossed the lobby. “Mr. Westin.”
He studied her. “Agent Hayden. We need to talk.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“You have a Samaritan killing right here in San Antonio. Considering you were instrumental in making sure my client didn’t get bail, I’d say this murder is proof positive that Dr. Richardson is not your man.”
“Wrong. I have Richardson dead to rights, and you know it.” She glanced around the noisy, chaotic room and then back at him. “But you know this. You know no judge will give Richardson bail. Why are you here?”
Westin stared at her, silent, and she knew he was weighing his words carefully.
She opened her phone and showed him a picture of William Bauldry. “This guy. William Bauldry. When did you see him last?”
“I’ve never met him before,” Westin said.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, bluffing. “I’d bet money Richardson has mentioned him.”
Westin’s jaw clenched and released. “Why would my client tell me about this guy?”
“Because this guy and Richardson crossed paths at Bastrop prison multiple times. They had the opportunity to discuss Richardson’s shootings and, I’d bet, to plan the murder in San Antonio.”
“Richardson is in jail. He had nothing to do with this case.”
“The gun Richardson used is still missing. Where is it?”
Again Westin was silent, weighing his words. This man knew how to deal.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Take the death penalty off the table.”
She nodded as understanding dawned. He’d come here to offer her information, but he didn’t give anything for free. “You’ll be the high-priced lawyer that keeps a monster like Richardson alive. Granted, Richardson will spend the rest of his life in prison, but he will be alive.”
“It’s not a perfect victory but the best I can get.”
“The final sentencing is a promise I can’t make, but I would speak to the prosecutors about it.”
“That’s not much of a guarantee.”
She shook her head. “Best I got. Have you been in contact with Bauldry?”
“Not him.”
The added emphasis on the pronoun caught her attention. He’d not seen Bauldry, but he was opening the door for her to ask about others. She scrolled through the pictures on her phone to Gloria Sanchez. “What about this woman? Have you seen her?”
Westin looked at the picture. He shifted his stance, and his left hand flexed into a loose fist. “She was the woman shot.”
His tone changed just enough for her to know she was on the right path. “She was also William Bauldry’s half sister. And she visited him in prison quite often. Is she your client?”
“No.”
“So no privileges will be violated.”
He drew in another breath. “I was in possession of a key, most likely to some kind of locker. My client said if anyone came by asking for it to hand it over. She came by my office six months ago and asked for it.”
She thought about the missing gun. Richardson had stashed it somewhere. “What was in the locker?”
“I don’t know. I only gave her the key.”
She couldn’t prove it, but she could reasonably argue that Richardson had stashed the gun in the locker, told Bauldry about it, and Bauldry had sent Gloria to retrieve it.
“That’s it?” she asked.
“That’s all I have.”
“All right.”
“You’ll speak to the prosecutors?”
“I will.” She left him in the lobby, and as she climbed the stairs she glanced at her phone. One missed call from Nevada. She dialed his number.
Nevada answered on the first ring. “I think you’re right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I tracked Drexler to a motel room in San Antonio. We just got in the room, and I’m staring at what he left behind. You need to come see this,” Nevada said.
“Give me the address,” she said. “I’ll leave right now.”
Kate relayed what was happening to Mazur, and minutes later they were in his car headed across town. When they rolled up to the motel, there were three black FBI SUVs nosed in at the far end of the parking lot.
She stepped out of the car, headed toward the room that was now roped off with crime-scene tape. She hurried toward the yellow barrier and, flashing her badge at an agent, ducked under it.
Nevada’s tall frame and broad shoulders dominated the small seedy room furnished with a low double bed, a faded brown comforter, and a box television. Pizza boxes were scattered around the floor along with a dozen crushed beer cans.
“Nevada, what do you have?” she asked.
“He was here. No one seems to know when he left, but the clerk said he’s paid up for the motel room through tomorrow, so he might be back.”
Kate shook her head. “He’s not coming back.”
“The manager said he had a visitor yesterday. While he was inspecting the ice machine down the hall, he saw a Caucasian male, early thirties, dark hair, at Drexler’s door with a couple of pizzas and a twelve-pack of beer,” Nevada said.
“The description could be William,” she said. “But they don’t know each other. The description could be any one of a thousand other guys in this city.”
“If William has been watching you,” Mazur said, “he would notice if someone else was stalking you.”
Nevada nodded. “He spotted Drexler.”
“They’re both interested in the same woman,” Mazur said.
“There’s one way to find out,” Kate said. “Where’s the manager?”
“Over there.” Nevada nodded toward a slim man with graying hair and a full mustache.
She hurried toward the man and introduced herself. Not caring about small talk, she showed him a picture of Bauldry. “Have you seen this man?”
The manager sniffed as he studied the picture. “That’s the guy I saw.”
“You saw this man talking to Mr. Drexler?”
The manager shifted his stance. “I don’t know no names. I just know that’s the guy who brought the pizza and beer to the man the Feds are looking for.”
“Thanks.” She returned to Mazur and Nevada. “He just identified Bauldry.”
Mazur’s jaw tightened. “How the hell would they hook up?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But we need to assume they’re working together now.”
“I can call a forensic team and have them here ASAP,” Mazur said.
The forensic team could pull Drexler’s and possibly Bauldry’s DNA from the room. No one came into a room or left it without leaving trace evidence. But forensics took time. And in a hotel room there would be dozens of DNA samples from other guests as well as the maid service. Days to collect it and days to analyze it.
The hotel room telephone rang. Kate crossed the room and answered it. “Yes.”
“This is William.” His voice was soft, almost a little breathless.
“William,” she said, loudly enough to get Mazur’s attention.
Mazur moved toward her and had her tip the phone out a fraction so he could hear.
“Where are you?”
“I’m back in San Antonio, Katie. What’s the problem?”
“How did you get this number?”
“Is that the most burning question you have for me?”
Mazur moved out of the room, his cell pressed to his ear as he requested a trace on the call.
She hesitated. “Tell me where you are.”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“William,” she said, dropping her voice. “This has to stop. We have to meet. I want to see you. It’s important for me to be with you. There was a time when we loved each other.”
Silence crackled over the line.
“William, are you there?”
“You drive me crazy, Katie. You always have. If I could just put my problems in a box and bury them, I might feel like myself again.”
The words box and bury rattled in her head. She met Mazur’s gaze as he came into the room. “I need to be with you, William.”
“Maybe tomorrow, Katie,” he said. “Come by my house in the morning.”
“What’s wrong with now?” she pressed.
“I’m tired. And I have work to do. In the morning.”
The line went dead.
“What the hell does he have to do?” she whispered. Her gut tightened, and she could feel her core temperature drop. “He said he wished he could put his problems in a box and bury them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“William and Drexler are going hunting.”
William watched as the young girl left the private Catholic high school. Like all the other girls she was dressed in her plaid skirt, white shirt, knee socks, and ugly brown shoes. She crossed the lot to a waiting dark Lexus and tossed her backpack in the backseat. She was laughing when she slid into the front seat.
He tried to imagine Katie at that age. He remembered the way her plaid skirt had brushed just below her knees. Those horrendous brown shoes all the girls had to wear looked terrible on most, but she somehow made them look cute and seductive. He wondered if she still had her uniform. Just the idea of seeing her in it made him hard.
The Lexus drove off, and he waited a beat before he followed, making sure to stay a couple of car lengths behind. The car wove through town and within fifteen minutes pulled into a gated community. He couldn’t follow or he would be noticed, but she’d be back out soon. There was a football game tonight.
William pulled away and drove toward the school. He took time for dinner and did a bit of shopping. He bought a petite white dress and size five white shoes. Then he stopped at a florist and bought flowers. It was going to be a good night.
By the time he’d returned to the high school, the sun was low on the horizon. The new moon would soon leave little light to navigate by. Not the best night for hunting, but he knew it was now or never. Drexler was working on the two boxes he’d commissioned, and he needed bodies to fill them.
The pregame show was an explosion of noise and confusion. So many young ladies running around giggling and huddling close as they whispered secrets. The boys postured as if they were men, but none would be able to stand up to him if he had to take one of them out. However, a group of them could be a problem because of the attention it would draw.
So he needed to be careful. And like the spider in the web, wait for his juicy little bug.
He moved toward the concession stand, doing his best to look like someone’s big brother or uncle, not a guy who was patiently waiting to kill.
At the concession stand he ordered a hot dog and a soda, and then as he bit into the dog and its very dry bun, Alyssa bounded up to the stand and ordered a diet soda.
Standing this close to her he could smell her soft, sweet perfume and see the natural highlights in her hair. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders, and if he had not promised her to Drexler, he might have kept her for himself.
“Carrie, I’ve got to run to your mom’s car,” Alyssa said to a friend he’d barely noticed. The other girl was tall and slim, but her limbs were gawky and unattractive. To fit nicely in one of Drexler’s boxes, she’d have to be altered. “Didn’t she leave the keys with you?”
Carrie fished keys out of her oversize purse and dumped them in Alyssa’s hand. “She did. I’ll wait for you here, and then we can order something to eat. Mom said she’d give us each a burger.”
“Sounds good.” Alyssa sipped on her soda and turned to the lot.
He didn’t follow right away. To separate from the crowd again would draw attention to himself. So he watched as she wove through the crowd toward the south fence.
He tossed his hot dog and soda in the trash and moved through the crush of people. The home team scored a touchdown, and immediately the people around him jumped and shouted. One boy knocked William with his elbow. The accidental blow set his teeth on edge, and in another time and place he’d have reacted differently.
William kept moving, cutting through the wall of loud and shouting people until he reached the gate, and nodding to a volunteer parent in a red apron, he stepped out into the packed parking lot.
For a moment, he didn’t see Alyssa and thought he might have lost her. Damn. He scanned the lot illuminated by large overhead lights. He heard a car’s beep and saw taillights flash to his left where Alyssa was opening the trunk.
He hustled across the lot, jogging, knowing if he moved quickly enough he had a chance to take her without an incident.
Dodging right, he moved down a row of cars. His heart beat faster as the cheers of the crowd roared around him. A pivot and he was only a few car lengths away from her.
A glance behind proved no one was watching. He barreled right up behind the girl and jabbed a syringe in her side with one hand as he wrapped the other around her mouth.
The plunger sent the sedative into her system. She struggled, her screams muffled as she went limp. Her keys dropped to the ground.
He placed her body into the trunk and closed it gently. Casually he scooped up the keys and slid behind the wheel of the car. He started the engine, and though his nerves danced and jumped with adrenaline, he drove carefully through the lot, even waving at a couple passing by. At the stop sign, he turned on his right blinker, pulled out, and headed toward the main road.
Excitement raced through him. Now that he had Alyssa it would be easy to get Kate. Checkmate was close at hand.
As the FBI agents collected evidence from Drexler’s room, Mazur and Kate spent the afternoon tracking William, who had not returned to any known hangouts. As they left William’s church, Mazur’s phone rang. Ducking his head, he moved away, saying, “Hey, kiddo.”
His expression immediately turned dark. “Alyssa, what’s going on? Where are you?”
Nevada flexed his large hands.
Kate moved toward him so that she could hear.
“Dad, I’m in a car. A tr-trunk.” The girl sounded groggy, as if she could barely form the words.
Deep lines furrowed around his brow and mouth. “It’s going to be all right. Who took you, honey?”
“I don’t know,” the girl said.
The line went dead.
Mazur immediately redialed his daughter’s phone, but there was no answer. He dialed again. Nothing. “Shit.”
“Track her phone,” Kate said.
He hit the find-phone feature, but no signal appeared. “Shit. Her phone had to be disabled for this not to work.” He punched the button again and again. “Shit!”
Gently she took his phone from his grip. “Where was she supposed to be tonight?”
He clenched his hands into fists. “At the football game. She’s spending the night with a friend.”
“What friend?”
“Carrie. Carrie Scott.”
“Do you have her number?”
“Yes.” Immediately he dialed, but there was no answer.
“Let’s start moving now and head to the game,” she said. “That’s where the trail started, and that’s where we begin.”
“Right.”
Mazur’s next call was to Palmer, and he advised her of what was happening with clinical precision. He ended the call, and as he redialed Carrie’s number, said, “Palmer is sending police to the game and to Bauldry’s brother’s house. Every cop car in this city is going to be looking for her.”
He pressed the phone to his ear and cursed. “Carrie, this is Detective Mazur, Alyssa’s father. Call me immediately. This is an emergency.”
She wished she could tell him that it would be okay. But the grim statistics already were stacked against finding Alyssa alive.
They hustled down the stairs and out the back door toward his car. She had to run double time to match his stride. In his car he started the engine, and tires squealed as he backed out of the spot.
“Jesus, she was at a football game. She’s a smart kid. She doesn’t walk off with strangers,” he said.
Kate didn’t look at him as a colleague any longer. He was a parent and a terrified man who knew he was on the verge of losing everything.
His gaze cut to her. “What kind of monster are we looking for? Could this be Bauldry? Or that psycho, Drexler?”
“I hope not.”
He smacked his hand against the steering wheel. “Tell me about Drexler.”
“The less you know right now about Drexler, the more focused you’ll be.”
“To hell with that!” Mazur shouted. “I want to know!”
Pure anguish deepened the lines around his eyes and mouth. She’d brought the monsters into his and Alyssa’s life. “If it is Drexler we have some time.”
“Meaning he doesn’t kill them right away.”
“Yes.”
He dialed Carrie’s number. This time she answered.
“Carrie, Alyssa is missing.” He listened. “When’s the last time you saw her?” He glanced at his watch. “That was twenty minutes ago. Okay. Stay by the concession stand. I’ll be there in ten minutes, and other police will be there soon.”
He listened. “Your mother’s car is also missing?”
“Do you have the license plate?”
He glanced at Kate. “Alyssa went to the Scotts’ car to get her sweater, and she didn’t come back. Mrs. Scott’s car is also missing. It’s new and has GPS. We might get lucky.”
He called the company, identified himself, and the operator promised to get back within five minutes. Then he called Palmer. “Tell me you have a location from Alyssa’s phone.” He listened and then, “Damn it. Are you sure? Right.” He dropped the phone in his lap and he quickly rounded a sharp turn. “There’s no signal from the phone.”
Drexler was smart and knew enough to destroy the girl’s phone. But just the fact that Alyssa had called suggested William was behind this. He wanted Mazur afraid and off his game. She thought back to what William had said. He wanted to put his “problems in a box.” William was giving Alyssa to Drexler. She looked at Mazur and saw the thinly cloaked anger and fear. If she told him this now, it would be impossible for him to concentrate. He wasn’t thinking like just a cop now. He was going to react like a panicked father.
They arrived at the football game to a dozen cop cars with lights flashing in the parking lot. Palmer was already on the scene, and she’d spoken to the principal, who had located Carrie and her mother, Kelly Scott. The girl and her mother were pale.
When they approached, Palmer introduced them.
Mazur extended his hand to Mrs. Scott. “I’m Alyssa’s father.”
Mrs. Scott’s frown deepened. “I just saw Alyssa with Carrie a half hour ago. Detective Palmer tells me she might have been kidnapped.”
Carrie’s red-rimmed eyes filled with fresh tears. “Mr. Mazur, I’m so sorry.” Understanding her through the sobs was a challenge. “I thought she was just going to the car to get her sweater.”
“Carrie, it’s okay.” Mazur laid his hand on the girl’s shoulder, and she quickly hugged him. He looked up at Mrs. Scott. “This is connected to a case that I’m working.”
The woman leaned toward him. “I told the girls to stay with the crowds.”
Mazur pulled the girl away from him. “Carrie, I need you to focus. Did you see anyone lingering around?”
“No. No one that looked weird,” she said.
Mrs. Scott drew in a breath. “There was a man by the concession stand.”
“Who?” Mazur asked.
“Midthirties, dark hair. I noticed him because he wasn’t old enough to be a parent and too old to be a student. He just didn’t fit here. And then he tossed out a perfectly good hot dog.” A sigh shuddered through her. “God, do you think it was him?”
Kate moved in front of Mazur, introduced herself, and showed Mrs. Scott a picture of Bauldry. “Is this him?”
The woman leaned in and studied the picture. “I can’t say for certain, but it does look like him.”
“Did he say anything?” Kate asked.
“No. He was extremely polite and put a twenty-dollar bill in the band-fund jar.”
Kate turned to the girl. “Carrie, you need to stop crying. I need to talk to you.”
The girl stopped sobbing and turned toward Kate. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve pulled down over her hand.
“You’re really FBI?”
“I am.” She looked at the girl’s mother and nodded.
“You come when there’s been a kidnapping or murder.”
“That’s right. You need to listen closely, because we don’t have a lot of time. Can you focus for me?”
The girl sniffed. “I-I’m so rattled.”
“I don’t care how rattled or upset you are,” Mrs. Scott said. “You need to focus and help the police.”
Carrie nibbled her lip. “Yes. Yes. I can do that.”
“Good. Did you see anyone lurking around you tonight?”
“No. We were just enjoying the game.”
Mazur’s phone rang. “Detective Mazur.” He cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear, pulled out a notebook, and scribbled down notes. “Great. Thank you.” He looked at Kate. “They’ve located the Scotts’ car.”
“Go,” Kate said. She held out little hope that whoever had taken Alyssa left some kind of evidence. “I want to talk to some of the people here. See if they know anything.”
“Right.”
Mazur and Palmer left, leaving Kate alone to talk to Carrie and her mother. She watched as his car drove off, so sorry she’d ever met him or Alyssa.
“How long have you known Alyssa?” Kate asked.
Carrie sniffed. “A couple of months. She’s new, and it’s hard to make new friends in this school. Most of us have been going here since kindergarten.”
“But you’re her friend.”
“She’s cool. And she’s nice. We have fun together.”
“Is Alyssa dating anyone? Would she have left with anyone?” Sometimes a missing child had not been taken but had left with a friend. Kate had experience with girls like Carrie. They wanted to protect their friend and at this stage feared the parents more than the police. In their naïveté, they didn’t believe monsters were real.
Carrie leaned in a little. “She does like a guy. His name is James. They’ve kissed a few times.”
“Where is James?”
“He’s one of the football players.” She pointed to a tall, dark-haired kid whose football uniform was covered in dirt and grass. “He’s really nice. And he couldn’t have left with her during the game.”
“Okay, honey.”
Needing to cover all her bases, Kate cut through the crowd and made her way up to the young football player who was headed to the locker room for halftime. He stood at least a foot taller than her. She held up her badge. “James, I need to talk to you.”
The boy’s face paled, and as the two cut away from the crowd, he asked, “What’s going on?”
She studied his face, suspecting almost immediately he had no relevant information. “You and Alyssa are dating?”
“Not exactly dating. But I want to. I like her.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“In school yesterday. She decorated my locker.”
“You’ve not seen her since?”
“No.” He ran an unsteady hand over his short hair. “What’s going on?”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him Alyssa had been taken or that her chances grew slimmer by the moment. The truth was, girls who had been abducted were often dead within the first few hours. “I can’t say right now.” William was already several moves ahead of her, and time was running out. Drexler wouldn’t kill right away, but that was little solace for what she knew was in store for Alyssa.
She dialed Nevada.
He picked up on the third ring. “No sign of Drexler yet.”
“I think we have a bigger problem now.”