The Last Move (Criminal Profiler 1)

“What about the trips to Laredo to see her mother?” Kate asked. “Your stepmother was driving down to check in on her mother weekly, correct?”

“Gloria was going to Laredo? That’s weird.”

“What’s weird about it?”

“Gloria was always good about paying for Nina’s nursing home, but she didn’t visit her often.”

“Did they have a falling out?” Kate asked.

“Gloria never talked about it except once about five years ago. She’d had too much to drink and said Nina never approved of her marriage to my father.”

“Why was that?”

“My mom had only been dead about eight months when they got married. And Dad is fifteen years older than Gloria. Gloria said Nina thought it was a cursed match.”

“Nina said cursed?” Kate asked.

“Gloria also said that Nina was old school and believed Dad should have been in mourning for at least a year.”

“Do you remember your mom?” Mazur asked.

“Faint memories. I’ve pictures of us. In fact, Gloria took a bunch of pictures of Mom and me and put them in this beautiful scrapbook. It was really touching.”

“Your father said Gloria had a condo in Laredo so she had a place to stay when she visited,” Kate asked.

“Gloria has had the condo there for years.”

“What was it for?” Mazur asked.

“Her trips into Mexico.”

“Why did she go to Mexico?” Mazur pressed.

“She had clients down there who liked the high-end cars. Some paid top dollar, and when they did she sometimes would personally deliver the cars to them.”

“That’s some service.”

“Some of the cars cost over one hundred grand. She took care of clients like that because she said they’d come back to her when they had more money to spend.” The young woman frowned. “Do you think she was killed for one of the cars?”

“She wasn’t driving an expensive car. It was at least six years old and very nondescript,” Mazur said.

“Gloria usually doesn’t drive old cars,” Isabella said. “Not her style at all.”

“How was your stepmother feeling physically?” Kate asked.

“Fine, I guess. I saw her a month ago when she came to see me in Washington, and she seemed fine. She got a little tired her first night in town, but said it had been a long day. By morning she was fine. Why do you ask?”

“The medical examiner found a mass in your stepmother’s uterus,” Kate said.

Isabella’s head cocked. “What, like cancer?”

“Yes.”

Isabella blinked. “She never said a word to me. Are you sure? She would have told Dad, and he can never keep a secret.”

“The medical examiner is positive,” Kate said.

Isabella shook her head. “Jesus. She looked fine the last time I saw her. She was her usual self. Always on, if you know what I mean.”

“Can you explain?” Kate asked.

“I mean she was wearing makeup and had extra smiles. Although she could be like that when she was stressed.”

“What do you mean?”

“When she was worried, she always tried harder to be perfect. When the tough gets going, she put on more makeup. I guess now that I know about the cancer, that explains why she was upset.”

“When was she upset?” Kate asked.

“Christmas last year. I finished up exams early and arrived home a few days before they expected me. She was up in her room, listening to music and looking at pictures. I asked her what was wrong, and for a second I thought she was going to tell me. Then she smiled and said she was fine. I never saw her like that again.”

The front door opened and closed hard. Hurried footsteps echoed in the foyer and into the living room. Mazur rose and faced Mr. Sanchez.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded as his gaze skimmed to his daughter.

“It’s fine, Dad,” Isabella said as she rose. “They were just talking to me about Gloria.”

Sanchez crossed to his daughter. “I told you not to talk to them unless Bennett was here.”

Kate seemed more interested in the man’s mannerisms than his words. Her gaze focused first on his fisted fingers, then to the tension banding his shoulders.

“Why do I need an attorney?” Isabella asked. “The questions were straightforward. Did you know Gloria was sick?”

“You shouldn’t have told her,” Mr. Sanchez said to Mazur. “No good comes from telling her that.”

“I still don’t understand how your wife could have hidden her illness from you,” Kate said. “Were you two living apart?”

“No, of course not.” Sanchez sighed. “I had a sense she was off. She was quieter. More removed the last seven or eight months, but I didn’t know about the cancer until you told me.”

“You’re sure you didn’t know?”

“What does it matter now what was ailing my wife? It wasn’t the cancer that killed her but a serial killer’s bullet. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think that she knew the extent of her illness?” Kate asked.

He nodded. “Looking back now I think she did. When she was worried she tried extra hard at work, with friends, parties. She hosted several parties over the last couple of months.”

“If she knew she was sick, why did she go alone to Laredo so late at night?” Mazur asked.

Sanchez twirled his worn wedding ring. “You would have to know Gloria. She never slowed down. And if there was an obstacle in her way, she didn’t go around it. She went through it.”

Gloria Sanchez was a type-A personality who didn’t like limitations. Her husband might not have known about her illness, but Mazur wondered if she’d had a confidant. Since she worked eighty hours a week and was not close to her mother, it made sense she had friends at the office. “Which of your dealerships did she work out of?” Mazur asked.

“The one in central San Antonio,” Sanchez said.

“And you?”

“My shop is twenty miles west of town.”

“Did Gloria run all the offices?”

“She oversaw them. The day-to-day operations were handled by the individual branch managers.”

“Who managed the central branch?” Mazur asked.

“Lena Nelson.”

Mazur scribbled the name in a small notebook.

“Why do you want to talk to Lena? A serial killer murdered my wife.”

“I’m looking at all the angles, Mr. Sanchez,” Mazur said. “Thank you for your time.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

I saw her today. And I smiled when she looked at me. When she was not looking, I stared at her and dreamed of wrapping a cord around her slender neck and strangling her until she died. I am good at that—smiling and planning.

San Antonio, Texas

Tuesday, November 28, 4:15 p.m.

Mazur and Kate arrived at the Sanchez car dealership located in central San Antonio. The glittering glass-and-chrome showroom featured expensive luxury cars. A red Ferrari 488 Spider was parked beside a black Lamborghini Aventador. There were a few more name brands Kate recognized, but the others were unfamiliar.

“Impressive,” Mazur said as he ran his hand over the Lamborghini’s polished hood.

“I’m not really a car person.” Kate looked around the dealership, expecting a salesperson to appear. Their absence suggested news of Gloria’s death had reached the staff.

He moved around to the driver’s side of the car and peered into the window. “I bet you drive something compact and dependable. And I guess it’s white.”

“It’s silver,” she said.

“Were you walking on the wild side when you sprang for that color?”

He was teasing her again, and despite herself she smiled. “I like things plain and simple. Boring can be very refreshing.”

“When you bought the car, was it the demo on the lot or the loaner the dealership gave to people when their car needed servicing?

”

“I negotiated a good deal.”

“I would expect no less. You rent or own the furniture in your apartment?”

“I own it.”

He opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. “Standard, practical furnishings. I’m guessing small compact television, no cable, and lots of books.” Reverently he palmed the gearshift. “Am I right?”