The Last Move (Criminal Profiler 1)

“Excellent,” she said. “Smart. Can you get those for me?”

“Will do, Agent Hayden,” Mazur said.

Kate frowned. “As I’ve said, he wants to control this situation. So giving a press conference right now is the last request I’ll grant him.”

It was Mazur’s turn to frown. “Looking to make him mad?”

“That’s the point,” Kate continued. “Killers like him are egocentric. They like the limelight. Like to manipulate. They also can have very thin skin. If I ignore him, maybe he’ll get angry and make a mistake.”

“Or he’ll kill someone,” Calhoun said.

“He’ll kill again regardless,” Kate said. “He won’t stop until he’s put down.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s the Samaritan,” Mazur said.

She studied him a beat. “He just might think he is the new Samaritan.”

“And Sanchez? He didn’t shoot his wife?”

“I’ve not ruled him out either.”

He used the hotel pass key and opened room number 351. He knew Kate was out for the day and at police headquarters with Detective Mazur because he’d been watching the hotel.

She’d looked almost sweet and childlike in her dark suit that fit her so poorly. Like a child pretending to be an adult. Hiding under all the layers of fabric. Fearful of a world that she knew was a very wicked place.

He moved to the unmade bed and to the suitcase that sat open on the stand across from the bed. He picked up a pair of panties and held them to his face, inhaling her scent.

He’d dreamed about Kate relentlessly over the last few months, and now, being this close to her made his skin shiver with excitement. The panties clutched in his hand, he moved to the closet where she’d neatly hung her extra suit, still encased in plastic from the dry cleaner in Salt Lake.

Beside the suit hung a simple white silk blouse and crisp jeans dangling from a pants hanger. His heart beat faster as he ran his hand along the blouse’s soft fabric. She hung her clothes in the same order regardless of where she stayed, a fact he’d picked up on over the last few months. On the closet floor, her running shoes stood next to black ankle boots.

He turned and moved toward the bed. The outline of her head still creased the pillow, and the covers on the left side were still rumpled. The other half of the bed was smooth, and he guessed she’d had a solid night’s sleep.

“Enjoy the sleep while you can.”

He touched the sheets and sat down on the edge of the bed. Unable to resist, he laid his head back on the cool sheets, imagining her naked body. He grew hard thinking about her. He ran his hand over his erection. He reached for the button on his jeans, undid it, and slid his hand around his erection. He moved his hand up and down the hard shaft, imagining Kate lying under him, naked and moaning. His fantasy fixated on the image of her, spreading her legs wide so he could drive deep into her. He pushed all of himself into her hard and slow, knowing it hurt her and enjoying the flicker of fear on her face.

The image tipped him over the edge, and he exploded in a rush of ecstasy that shuddered through his body. He wiped himself clean with her panties and lay still for a moment, savoring the rush.

Footsteps in the hallway brought him back to the moment, and he quickly righted himself, zipped up his pants, and stuck her panties in his coat pocket.

There were so many things he wanted to do with Kate Hayden.

He moved to the bathroom. He studied the cosmetics lined up in a neat row on a carefully folded washcloth. She always lined up her cosmetics in the same way. He reached for her perfume and inhaled the scent. Neatness and organization were quirks of hers.

Someone who didn’t understand her would call her OCD, but he understood the rigors of travel and the importance of simple routines that created a sense of home and familiarity in what was an endless stream of generic hotel rooms.

He sprayed a quick burst of her perfume on his wrist and held it to his nose. He would carry her scent with him for the rest of the day.

Meeting his reflection in the mirror, he wondered if she’d recognize him when they finally came face-to-face. Would she find him attractive or lacking? He wanted her to like him. Wanted her to need him.

They were meant to be together. They were two very smart people addicted to the chase.

The hunt.

Before he revealed himself, he had to show her he was the alpha partner. He had to show her, no matter how hard she worked, he would win in the end.

CHAPTER TEN

“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the Spider to the Fly.

—Mary Howitt

San Antonio, Texas

Tuesday, November 28, 1:00 p.m.

Mazur and Dr. Hayden arrived at Lucky’s off exit 140 on I-35. He parked at the far end of the lot and took a moment to study the scene. The station had four pumps and a small convenience store. Midday, there were cars at each of the pumps, and he suspected they did a steady stream of business.

“This is very typical of the other gas stations targeted by the Samaritan,” Kate said.

Mazur nodded toward a small lot across a narrow side street. “Easy to park over there.”

Once out of his car, they walked to the vacant lot. Kate studied the vantage point of the convenience store. “Anyone parked here late at night would have a clear view of the pumps,” she said.

The gravel in the lot was fine and prone to tire impressions. Because the spot was well used, it had multiple tire tracks.

Kate knelt down. “The killer didn’t find this place by happenstance. Send a uniform to the area businesses and see who has cameras. Pull the footage from the last two weeks. See if there was anyone who returned to the spot more than once. My guess is he scoped this place out first and got comfortable with the location as he studied potential complications and victims.”

“Will do.”

Mazur and Kate returned to the Lucky’s lot and pushed through the front door of the convenience store. Bells jingled above his head as he paused and allowed her to pass him. The place was small. A silver Christmas holiday garland draped the wall of cigarettes behind the cash register at the front of the store. Beer and soda coolers were along the wall near a unisex bathroom.

A young, thin Hispanic man turned from the register toward the door. His name badge read Tomas.

Mazur removed his badge from his pocket and identified himself. “I’m trying to retrace the steps of a woman who passed through here on Sunday night. Do you know who was working that night?”

“It was me,” Tomas said. “I own the place. Is this about the woman shot nearby?”

“It is.”

“I’ve seen her before. She stopped here whenever she drove to Laredo. She was always nice.”

“How often did Mrs. Sanchez come into your store?” Kate asked.

“About once a week. Travelers like this place because we offer easy access on and off the interstate.”

“Do you have security footage of her last visit?” Mazur asked.

“Sure. I keep the recordings for a month. Not everyone keeps ’em that long, but I’m a magnet for trouble this close to the interstate. You’re not the first cops who’ve come looking.” He rubbed his nose. “What time are you looking for?”

“About twelve thirty at night on the twenty-sixth,” Mazur said.

Tomas turned to his right and squatted to inspect a computer attached to a small television screen located under the counter. Mazur leaned over and saw that the screen showed four black-and-white angles: two focused on the gas pumps, another on the register, and the last on the lot behind the store. Tomas typed in the time, and the screens blinked back to early Sunday morning.

For several minutes the camera caught no activity, and then at 12:32 a.m. Gloria Sanchez’s four door pulled up to the outside pump. Out of her car, she ran a credit card through the gas pump, lifted the handle, and stuck the nozzle in the tank. Grabbing her purse, she hurried inside.

“I was dozing that n

ight. It had been a long day because the kid opening for me didn’t show,” Tomas said. “You can see I was startled when she comes inside.”

Mazur watched the view of the gas pumps and her car. Seconds pass, and then a man wearing a black hoodie walked up to her car and jabbed something into the rear tire. The man glanced toward the store and slowly walked off screen, careful to keep his face hidden from view.

The next camera caught Gloria moving toward the bathroom, and minutes later, appearing with her makeup refreshed and her hair brushed. She stopped at a rack of candy and chose a packet of chocolate before heading to the coffee station and then the front counter. After speaking with Tomas for a moment, she shoved several bills in the tip jar and left the store. Outside, she replaced the gas nozzle and sat in her car eating chocolate before she drove off down the access road and onto I-35 south.

Mazur kept watching, and fifteen seconds after Gloria drove off, headlights appeared from the parking lot where he and Kate had just stood. A blue van with Texas license plates pulled out. He leaned in but could only make out part of the plate. IVR . . . He knew enhancement of the image by his computer guys was possible. He might get a full license plate.

“Can I get a copy?” Mazur asked.

“That was the killer?” Tomas asked.

Kate ignored the question, her expression again giving no hint of what she was thinking. “I’m going to need copies of all you have.”

Detective Mazur called headquarters as they were pulling out of the gas station and followed up on an early query about blue vans reported stolen. He supplied the partial plate. Five minutes later he received a callback. “We have a hit. The van was found in the parking lot of a strip mall.”

“Excellent.” Kate looked impressed.

He plugged in the location of the mall in the GPS. “Bear with me.”

“Take a left up ahead. I know the mall. I went there as a teenager.”

“Lead the way.” He followed her instructions, even trying a shortcut she suggested that saved them from hitting interstate traffic. Fifteen minutes later they pulled into a lot where a uniformed officer was parked by a blue van.