The Last Move
“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.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
All I want for Christmas is . . . revenge.
San Antonio, Texas
Friday, December 1, 8:00 p.m.
Mazur and Palmer arrived at the dimly lit box store parking lot ten minutes after William’s call. The car he’d stolen was parked in the darkest part of the lot nosed in at an angle toward a stand of small trees.
Both detectives were silent as they drew their weapons and approached the white Lexus. No one was in the front seat, and the trunk was ajar.
Mazur moved directly to the trunk while Palmer walked around the front to make sure it was secure. Normally Mazur would have waited, but he needed to see the inside of the trunk. He’d once bargained with God to bring back his son as he held the boy’s still body in his arms. But those pleas had gone unheeded. Still, he hoped, and struck a new bargain. I’ll do anything.
He lifted the trunk lid. It was empty. No Alyssa. He stepped back; the swell of fear and relief nearly made his knees buckle. “She’s not here!”
Palmer stepped forward and inventoried the trunk’s contents.
There was a spare tire, a trunk organizer with flares, and an open first-aid kit. But shoved in the very back was Alyssa’s blue sweater.
“What’s it doing crammed up there?” Palmer asked.
“She did it. She wants us to know she was here.”
With trembling hands he holstered his weapon and pulled on latex gloves. He picked up the sweater. Under the sweater lay her bracelet. She’d left it for him so he’d know she’d been here, just as Kate advised. His daughter believed he could save her.
When Caleb died, he thought he had shouldered all the anger and sorrow a man could. Now he realized there was so much more of both that could be waiting for him.
Palmer searched the front and back seats. “There’s nothing here.”
“Get Calhoun here now. I want this entire car dusted for prints. There’s a chance the kidnapper didn’t use gloves.”
“I’m on it.”
Kate had a uniformed officer drive her to her rental car, which had been checked and judged clear of tracking devices, and then she drove straight to Bauldry’s house, where three squad cars were now in position, lights flashing. The front door was open, and the housekeeper was talking to a police officer.
Pulling her badge, she hurried up to the front door. “Where’s William?”
The housekeeper looked panicked and afraid. But a quick glance over her shoulder said she was more afraid of her employer. “He’s not here.”
“We’re not here to arrest him,” Kate lied. “We need to talk to him.”
“Please,” she whispered. “I can’t help you, Miss.”
Kate could play by the book until moments like this when doing it by the book stood between her and saving a life. She pushed past the housekeeper and screamed, “Bauldry!”
“Miss. Miss,” the woman said, hurrying after her. “You can’t come in the house. Mr. Bauldry doesn’t see people.”
“You said he wasn’t here.” Kate searched deeper into the house and scanned a dimly lit sitting room. It was clean, pristine, but there was no sign of William.
The housekeeper shook her head. “You have to leave.”
Kate bounded up the staircase, shouting, “Where are you, Bauldry?”
She opened the first door in the hallway as she heard the housekeeper on her phone calling someone. As the woman spoke in rapid-fire Spanish, Kate ran to the second room. Nothing.
Her phone rang. The number was blocked. She ran down the steps. “This is Kate Hayden.”
“You always sound so frantic,” William said.
She looked toward the housekeeper, who slid her phone back in her pocket. “William.”
“Katie.” He drew out the word as if she were a naughty child. “How are you today?”
“I’ll let you know when it’s over. Where’s Alyssa?”
“You have exactly twenty-six minutes to make it to the address I’m about to text you. Then I’m going to introduce sweet Alyssa to Drexler and see how they hit it off. He’s quite the ladies’ man, but he’s distraught you took his other toy away. But, thankfully, Alyssa has graciously agreed to help Mr. Drexler forget about his lost toy.”
She gripped her phone. “You want me, not her, William. She’s not a part of this. I’m coming to you.”
“Remember, no cops, Kate.” His voice had a singsong, happy quality.
His type loved moments like this. They savored the attention, fear, and domination.
“I won’t be nice to you if you hurt her.”
Ignoring her threat, he said, “I’ll know if you call anyone, Katie. I always do.”
Her gaze met the housekeeper’s, who stared at her with a mixture of fear and longing. “Understood.”
“Ready or not, here comes the address.”
The line went dead, and two seconds later her phone dinged with a text. She read the address and plugged it into the map on her phone. According to the directions, if she drove full speed she might make it. She ran past the stunned woman. Kate desperately wanted to call Mazur, but knew somehow that William did know what she was doing.
Kate crossed back to the housekeeper and barely whispered, “He’s watching?”
Brown eyes widened with fear.
The woman’s body language screamed what she suspected. William was watching. “Do you have pencil and paper? There is an address I have to remember.”
The housekeeper handed her a pen and paper. Kate scribbled down the address she’d just been given, plus Mazur’s phone number and the word Emergency! She ripped off a blank page from the notepad’s bottom and handed it back to the woman.
The woman accepted the pad and glanced quickly at it. “Yes, Miss.”
If William witnessed her mutiny, she was betting he’d not kill the girl. She was a bargaining chip. And logic dictated if Kate didn’t reach out for help, there was a good chance she and the girl wouldn’t get out alive.
Kate ran back to her car. Her tires squealed as she backed out of the driveway. She wove in and out of traffic, punching the accelerator. On the interstate she clocked over one hundred miles per hour until she saw her exit, which led into the countryside.
Her phone rang. BLOCKED appeared on her display.
“You’re behind schedule,” William said. “Ticktock.”
“I hit traffic. I’m driving as fast as I can.” The countryside sped past her.
“Drexler said the box is a little small this time. He measured wrong. You know what that means. Snap. Crackle. Pop.”
The line went dead.
She pressed harder on the accelerator. She was driving so fast that when the GPS told her to turn she nearly missed the hard right. Brakes screeched, gravel kicked as she skidded and turned down the rural route to the gates at the entrance. They were swung wide open in silent invitation.