The Last Move (Criminal Profiler 1)

She hugged him. “Is Dr. Hayden going to be with you?”

“We’re working a case, kiddo. If we aren’t working, then there’s no reason for us to be together.”

“I like her.” And giggling, she added, “And I think you do, too.”

He did like Kate, but their relationship was professional and temporary at best. Still, he asked, “Why do you say that?”

She rolled her eyes and then glanced toward the door to make sure her mother wasn’t there. “It’s the way you talk around her.”

“How’s that?”

“Friendly. Relaxed.”

He shook his head. “Maybe you should be an FBI profiler.”

Her eyes sparked with interest. “Maybe I should.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Love you, Dad.”

“You, too, kiddo.”

He gave her one final squeeze. By the time he reached her door and glanced back, she was already lost in conversation with her friend. He moved back down the hallway, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

Sherry cut around the counter. “Theo, I’m not running.”

At the rate he was going, a move east would have him back in uniform working a beat or as some kind of rent-a-cop. Fuck. But if that was what it took to be in his kid’s life, he’d figure it out. The fact that Kate was based at Quantico somehow softened the blow of moving again. “Could have fooled me, Sherry.”

When he closed the front door behind him, it slammed shut with a little too much force. He strode to his car and slid behind the wheel, releasing the breath he’d been holding. He glanced in the rearview mirror and spotted Sherry standing at the door watching him.

Mazur drove off, grateful to return to the office. The drive went faster than he expected, and when he arrived at his desk, he was happy to see the phone records for Martin Sanchez had arrived.

He brewed a fresh cup of coffee, then slid off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He sipped the coffee, not wincing at the taste. Kate had cleaned the pot and machine again. Thank God for small favors.

Seconds later Palmer entered the bull pen and dropped her oversize purse in her chair. “I heard those records were coming tonight. Couldn’t resist taking a peek.”

He dropped half the stack in front of her. “You know the drill. We’ll start with the numbers he calls the most and then work our way back from there.”

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Ah, I bet you saw the ex.”

A smirk on her face undercut some of his annoyance. “What if I did?”

“They do know which buttons send us into a crazy spin. It’s a wonder I didn’t murder mine and bury his ass in a shallow grave.”

He sat down. “Might not want to say that too loud.”

“He’s alive and breathing, but I do have a perfect alibi when the time comes.”

Mazur shook his head. “Read.”

She sat and opened the first file. She read for less than a minute before she looked up and sighed. “We’re partners, you know. You can tell me anything.”

He could feel her gaze. “Read.”

“I mean it. I’m not like the other assholes in this cowboy department.”

“I know.”

She muttered a curse. “Any phone number in particular that I’m looking for?”

“Lena Nelson. She’s the manager of their premier showroom and a big fan of his.” He rattled off the number.

“Like in ol’ Marty had a thing going on the side?”

“Kate got that vibe, too.”

Palmer rubbed her palms together. “Now it’s getting interesting.”

“Maybe.”

A few minutes went by. “What’s it like working with her?”

“Kate Hayden? She’s smart, objective.”

“I can’t get a read on her at all. For a fembot, she is actually likeable in a weird sort of way.”

“There’s a sense of humor lurking in there, which gives me hope.”

“I heard you’re looking for Bauldry,” she said.

“Kate and I checked his house, his brother’s home, and also the family farm. No sign of him. I’ve put a BOLO out on him with the deputy in Medina County. He’s sending a deputy to check out his house again as well as the Medina property.”

“You heard about Kate’s old man, right?”

“Murdered by Bauldry.”

“Did you know she was this big chess whiz and so was Bauldry? They played a tournament together and it didn’t end well for him.”

He looked up, knowing Palmer wouldn’t rest until her curiosity was satisfied. “You know a lot.”

She scooted forward on her chair a fraction and leaned forward. “Maybe I’m friends with a few of the ladies in records. And I bring doughnuts when I need a favor.”

“Why’d you look her up?”

“Curiosity. She’s not the first who went to work for law enforcement after a tragedy.” She glanced around and pulled a thick binder from her desk drawer. “Want to see the file?”

“You pulled the father’s murder file?”

“I did.” No hint of apology.

“Yeah, I’ll have a look.” He thumbed through the file, stopping on a picture taken of Kate at the age of seventeen. The light-brown hair was longer and the face a little rounder, but she had the same serious look as today.

“It’s a miracle she survived,” Palmer said. “The shooter hit her in the thigh and then the face. She nearly bled out.”

He turned to William Bauldry’s mug shot. The boy barely looked old enough to shave. His face was thin, his eyes dark and wild. But this scared kid had shot a man dead in cold blood and nearly killed Kate.

“William Bauldry,” he said, reading up on the young man. “Brilliant. Controlled and very aware of what he did and why. Dated Kate for a short while. They broke up, and he became obsessed with her.”

“Maybe William also became obsessed with Gloria Sanchez. Maybe he shot her?” Palmer said.

He closed the murder file. “Believe me, finding William Bauldry is at the top of my list. But I still can’t rule out Sanchez. He was first on the scene, he had his wife’s blood on him, and the couple was having financial problems. Not to mention the first wife died in a car accident.”

“Don’t forget, he was stepping out on this wife and most likely the last.”

“Martin Sanchez had a lot of good reasons to have his wife die.”

It took less than a half hour to spot a pattern of calls between Martin Sanchez and another unidentified number. Whomever he was talking to, they’d been speaking f

or over a year, daily and for extended periods of time.

“Think this is a girlfriend?” Mazur asked.

Palmer reached for her phone and dialed. “No better way to find out.” She held the phone out as a recorded message played. “This is Rebecca. I’m out. Call me again, baby.” “She sounds young and sexy to me.”

“Was she young and hot enough for him to want to leave his wife?” He ran his hand down his tie. “I don’t suppose Gloria Sanchez had a life insurance policy.”

“Funny you should ask. I’ve done some digging. Gloria had a two-million-dollar policy listing her husband as the beneficiary.” Palmer shook her head as she absently tapped her index finger on the records. “Sanchez has a mistress, Rebecca? And he decides to kill his old lady so they can live happily ever after?”

“Maybe,” Mazur said.

All the dots logically connected to Martin. Mazur should have been feeling pretty good knowing he might be on the heels of closing a high-profile case. So why didn’t he?

“Everything the Samaritan has done so far could have been dug up in the papers,” Palmer said. “It’s all just so perfect.”

“I’d like to run it by Dr. Hayden and get her feedback.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, and a slight grin tugged the edge of her lips. “Are you attracted to the fembot?”

“Kate?”

“No, the other fembot. Of course Kate.”

He didn’t quite meet her gaze as he shook his head. “That’s the last thing I’d need right now.”

Palmer sang, “Theo’s got a girlfriend.”

He’d lured Kate Hayden to San Antonio with the Samaritan, who had ended Gloria Sanchez’s life with one shot. Now, it was time to morph into another killer from Kate’s files and claim another victim, one who would not enjoy a quick and merciful death.

He stood in the shadows, waiting for the woman to leave the coffee shop that was scheduled to close soon. The street was quiet, and the back alley where she parked her car was shrouded in deep shadows.

She had dark hair, pale-white skin, and a slim, athletic figure that any man would gladly bed. If it were in the game plan, he’d do her in a heartbeat. But fucking her wasn’t part of the plan.