The Last Move (Criminal Profiler 1)

She stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice. Activating mental armor, she turned to see her brother, Mitchell, crossing the lobby. It had been at least five years since she’d seen him. He was as tall and muscular as ever, but since his wife’s death he looked tired. Silver now wove through his dark hair. A Texas Ranger’s star pinned to his chest glinted in the lobby light, and he held his Stetson in his hand.

She didn’t speak as she rubbed the side of her neck. “Mitchell. Is everything all right?”

“Mom is fine.”

“How did you find me?”

“When I saw you on the news I figured you’d be staying close to police headquarters. I stopped by the police department and identified myself.”

Annoyance scraped under her skin. “And they gave you the information?”

“I’m a Texas Ranger. And I know a lot of those guys.”

Still, it didn’t sit well. “Right.”

“Mom also saw you on the news. She knows you’re in town.”

Guilt jabbed her. “I’ll call her.”

He traced the leather-and-silver-studded band of his Stetson. “Why haven’t you gone by to see her?”

Visiting the family home where her mother still lived always churned up bad memories. Whenever Kate did have free time, she invited her mother to come see her wherever she was staying. Her mother always agreed, never once pushing Kate to visit the house.

“I said I would call her and I will.” Her brother might be trained to interrogate, but she was adept at avoiding questions.

He glanced at the tiled floor and then looked back up. “Why’re you staying here and not at the house with her?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” He leaned in, towering over her. But she had been playing this game with him since they were kids.

Standing her ground, she shook her head, feeling an old surge of bitterness. “I’m not interested in revisiting the past.”

He ran his hand along the rim of his hat. For a moment, he didn’t speak. “I don’t remember exactly what I said after Dad died, but I know it was shitty. And I should have apologized to you a long time ago. Sierra’s death has made me see a lot of things differently.”

Her chin raised a notch. “You said I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.”

His brow knotted, and he shoved out a breath. “I was young. Angry. Hurt. I didn’t mean—”

“Of course you meant it, otherwise why say it?” Unshed tears choked her throat.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry, Kate.”

She could still picture the hate in his eyes and the rage coating each of his words the last time they’d really talked before she left for college. “I’ll call Mom. The rest of this is unnecessary.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s necessary, Kate.”

“Why, Mitchell? Why after seventeen years is it necessary?”

The lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth had deepened. He was thirty-eight but looked a decade older.

“I was wrong. I wanted you to know that.”

If he thought an apology would create some kind of family bonding moment, he was wrong. She appreciated the effort, but she couldn’t accept his forgiveness when she couldn’t forgive herself. “Thank you for the apology. Now, I’ve got to be going. I’ve an early call.”

“Are you close to finding this Samaritan shooter?”

Feelings were off limits for the two of them, but somehow murder was a safe subject. “We’re still waiting on the ballistics. I should have my answer by tomorrow or the next day.”

“Mazur is a good cop. New to the area but seasoned.”

His opinion of Mazur mattered more than it should. “Good to know.”

He pulled a card from his wallet. “If you need me, call.”

She flicked the edge of the card with her index finger. Her bruised feelings would have to wait. She lowered her voice. Her brother might have been an ass, but he had a reputation as a good lawman. “The victim knew William Bauldry.”

Dark eyes locked on her. “What?”

“William worked for the Sanchez dealership after he was released from prison. Detective Mazur and I have visited his home. His housekeeper said he was in New York.”

Mitchell shook his head. “That’s not his style.”

“No, it’s not. So we visited his brother’s home and the property near Medina. He’s nowhere to be found.”

“Jesus, Kate. You were just out running alone at night with this guy somewhere nearby.”

“I’ve dealt with men like him before. But with William lurking around, maybe you should talk Mom into seeing Aunt Lydia.”

His grip on the brim of his hat crunched the well-worn edge. “Mom won’t leave town until she sees you.”

“Talk to her. Convince her to leave.”

/> “Go see her.”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation.”

“I’ll try to talk to her, but go see her,” he said more softly. “She loves you.”

His words stung more than any insult. “I’ll talk to Mom.”

“What can I do?”

“I haven’t even proven it’s William,” she said. “There’re a dozen other reasons why Gloria could have been murdered.”

“You’re smart and you’ll figure it out. Dad said you have a gift. If there’s a pattern, you’ll see it.”

Fatigue was strengthening second doubts. She had to have more than a gut feeling about William. She needed facts. “Just keep an eye on Mom. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more but finally nodded. “You call me if you need anything.”

“Sure.”

“I meant it when I said I was sorry. I know I can be difficult. But we’re family.”

For Mitchell, this was a grand gesture. “Can I get the ‘I can be difficult’ on tape? Might be a good ringtone.”

His posture relaxed a fraction, but a smile was still too much to expect from either of them. “It’ll take a few beers before that happens.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

“You take care of yourself, Katie.”

“You, too, Mitchell.”

Raymond Drexler hadn’t expected his life to turn to shit so fast. He still could not get over the fact that he had lost his sweet Sara thanks to the fucking cops and Kate Hayden. Nobody understood him.

He stopped in New Mexico and pulled into a truck stop. Keeping his head low, he bought a razor and scissors and went into the bathroom, where he showered and shaved his head and beard. After dressing, he put on an old ball cap he dug out of the lost-and-found bin. A few men passed by him, but he didn’t look up. He wasn’t the first man to shave and change his look in a place like this.

Tossing the razor and shaving cream back in his bag, he crossed the lot to his truck. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he skimmed his hand over his bald head. The new look would take getting used to. And without the beard, he wasn’t sure if he even liked his face without it. Shit, he felt naked.