The Last Move
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.