The Last Move
“That is not my intent,” Kate said. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“Of course not, he never did anything to worry me. Just last week he arrived early for one of our meetings and helped set up the chairs and tables. Saved me an hour’s worth of work. A good, solid man. And yes, before you say it, I know he has a prison record. But God believes in second chances, and so do I.”
Mazur knew how clever these monsters could be. They hid in plain sight and either went unnoticed or were pillars of the community until they were arrested. “Do you know where we could find William Bauldry?”
“If he’s not here, he’s working or at home.”
“Where does he work?” Kate asked.
“At Sanchez Motors. He has a job in their body shop. Gloria sponsored him when he got out of prison, and I suppose she referred him to our church.”
“That job lasted only six months,” Kate said. “It ended over the summer.”
Mrs. Lawrence shook her head. “That’s not what he told us. He said he was still working there.”
“Was William close to Ms. Kendrick?” Mazur asked, shifting the conversation.
“Friendly. Nothing romantic.”
“And Gloria?” Kate asked. “What was her relationship like with William?”
“They got along very well. Seemed to get each other’s jokes when no one else did.”
“Did they talk about anything in particular?” Mazur asked.
“They were always quiet. I could never hear.”
“And was Ms. Kendrick seeing anyone?” Mazur asked.
“She was, but don’t ask me who. I heard her on the phone a couple of times. I could tell by her voice it was a romantic partner.”
Mazur thanked Mrs. Lawrence and left his card. Outside with Kate, he stared up at the cloudless night sky filled with bright stars.
“I need to get my car back at the station,” Kate said.
“Finding a new hotel?”
“I’m going to see my mother.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “I can take you straight there.”
“Just drop me at my car.”
“Sure.”
They were on the road before he commented, “Mrs. Lawrence had pretty nice things to say about Bauldry.”
“The William I remember was a very clever, charismatic man,” Kate said. “And now he is out of prison, once again charming everyone around him.”
“With what end in mind?”
“Self-serving. If Church Lady only knew what was walking among her flock. If anything, guys like him get more dangerous in prison. They learn from other prisoners to hide their thoughts and to become the person they need to be to get what they want.”
“What else do you remember about William?” Mazur asked.
“I’m remembering how it was when I was in high school. After I broke up with him, he followed me everywhere. He called me all the time. He turned our family inside out. He enjoyed the harassment, the toying. So killing me today would be too easy. He doesn’t want the game to end.”
Scowling, he shook his head as he stared at her. “Jesus, Kate. How can you be so calm?”
“Between you and me, I am not calm. I’m scared. But I don’t have the luxury of hiding. If I don’t catch this guy, he will kill again.”
His phone chimed with a text. “Palmer has footage from multiple security cameras that shoot directly on Rebecca Kendrick’s coffee shop,” he said. “She says William appears on yesterday’s footage.”
“We need to find William,” she said.
“But in the meantime.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re a good cop.”
They were less than a foot apart, and he couldn’t deny his need to protect her. He wanted her to know she wasn’t really alone.
They made the ten-mile drive back to headquarters in silence. His gaze was locked on the road and hers focused on the passing buildings. When they reached the lot, she stared at the cars, as if trying to remember where she’d parked.
“I’ve been in so many cities, so many hotels rooms. It’s all becoming a blur.” She raised her key fob. “It’s here somewhere.”
Mazur shook his head and grinned. “You can track a serial killer, but you can’t find your car.”
“Distraction is an occupational hazard.” She hit the “Unlock” button on the fob and waited for taillights to flash. There was a distant beep and a flicker of light. “Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
He drove her to the red car. “Agent, I’m astonished. Fire-engine red?”
“My walk on the wild side.” She thanked him as she got out of his car, and slid behind the wheel of her rental. He saw her glance in her rearview mirror as the headlights of a marked car switched on. She might not like it, but he was going to have eyes on her while she was in his city.
Kate pulled out of the lot, accepting that Mazur or one of his cops would be with her while she was in San Antonio. Oddly, she didn’t mind. As she drove toward her mother’s house, she’d barely reached the end of the block when her phone rang. She recognized the number. It belonged to Taylor North.
She raised the phone to her ear. “Mr. North.”
“I want to talk.”
“You’re in luck. So do I.”
Kate distanced herself from strong emotions. It wasn’t that she didn’t have them—she simply steered clear of them. They only created confusion and were a distraction. But when it came to Taylor North, she had a hard time remaining civil. He was a bottom-feeder. He was willing to exploit people, and even the truth, for personal gain. She’d heard from her boss that there was talk of a book, and this murder was simply another notch on his belt regardless of whom he hurt.
She parked in front of a small café and stared at the blue neon “Open” sign. As she got out of the car, she noticed the marked police car and walked over to the vehicle.
The officer rolled down the window. “Agent Hayden.”
“You don’t have to stay.”
“Mazur’s orders are to shadow you until you reach your mother’s.”
“Fine, thank you.”
Kate entered the shop and spotted North sitting in the corner. A stoneware mug in front of him, he leaned over a legal pad.
As she approached his table he glanced up, made an anemic move to stand, but she waved him back down. She pulled her chair around and sat with her back to the wall. “Mr. North.”
“Agent Hayden.”
He’d been covering the Samaritan case more than any other reporter and knew the details better than most of the cops. This killer was getting his information from someone. “So what questions would you like to ask me?”
“Did you arrest the right man? Is Dr. Richardson guilty?”
“He’s guilty. I’d stake my reputation on it.”
“So he has an accomplice?”
“Still working on that one.”
“The Gloria Sanchez murder stinks of the Samaritan killings. Whoever did this must have been working with Richardson,” he countered.
“Why do you say that?”
North shook his head as he leaned forward. “We’re jumping the gun. My hope was that we’d use this meeting to get to know each other. To learn a little about trust.”
A dark intensity shadowed his gaze. She leaned forward. “You’ve gathered a great deal of information on this case.”