The Last Move (Criminal Profiler 1)

“Uterine,” Mazur said.

He cleared his throat. “No. She had the flu last month and a bad cold a couple of months before that, but not cancer. She would have told me.”

“But she didn’t tell you?” Kate said. Why wouldn’t a woman share such grave news with her spouse?

Sanchez shook his head slowly as he made the sign of the cross. “Gloria hated any kind of limitations. Cancer would have been no exception.”

Bennett placed a comforting hand on his client’s shoulder. “My client can’t speak to the motives of his late wife.”

“Were you having marital problems?” Kate asked.

Sanchez looked as if he’d been struck. “Why do you ask that?”

“You still aren’t wearing a wedding band,” Mazur said.

He curled his fingers into fists. “After I found Gloria, I forgot to put it back on.”

“Your fingers are perfectly tanned,” she pressed. “If you wore it even some of the time, there would be a tan line.” He certainly wouldn’t be the first married man who didn’t want to broadcast his status. Was he having an affair? Did Gloria know? Was that why she didn’t tell him about the cancer?

Sanchez stiffened but didn’t answer.

“Your wife was wearing a very expensive engagement ring,” Kate said.

“Gloria’s ring is a five-carat yellow diamond. She loved the way the light caught it. I gave it to her three years ago for our twentieth wedding anniversary. It was very expensive.”

“What worries me is that the killer didn’t take the ring or her wallet,” Mazur said. “Robbery wasn’t the motive.”

Bennett shifted. “This certainly feeds into the serial killer theory. Which makes me wonder why a judge signed off on a warrant for the family financial records.”

“I’m working all the angles,” Mazur said.

“I did not kill my wife,” Sanchez said slowly for effect.

“What was the financial state of your business?” Kate asked. “You said you closed the Laredo dealership.”

Sanchez raised his chin. “The economy hasn’t been kind the last year.”

“That’s not what you told me at the crime scene,” Mazur said.

“Appearances were very important to Gloria. She wouldn’t have wanted you to know the truth.”

“And perhaps why she didn’t want you knowing she was sick?”

Sanchez mumbled a prayer. “Maybe.”

“Why did you close the Laredo shop?” Mazur asked.

“In the late spring, Gloria ran the numbers and said we might have to cut back on staff. Honestly, I was happy about cutbacks. I’m a simple man at heart. I like to work with my hands. Gloria was the one with big dreams.” He shook his head, and tears glistened bright in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t she tell me she was sick?”

“I don’t know,” Kate said.

He dropped his face to his hands and sobbed. “God, this is all too much.”

“You told me yesterday that she called you from the road and said she was having car trouble,” Mazur said.

“That’s right. Why do you ask?”

Kate knew where Mazur was headed. In the killer’s tape, Gloria never mentioned having called her husband. Wouldn’t a frightened woman tell a strange man this, even if it weren’t true?

“My client has had enough for today,” Bennett said. “I’m not going to stand here while you go on a fishing expedition.”

“I understand you and your wife have a daughter,” Kate said.

“Technically, Gloria was Isabella’s stepmother. But Gloria and Isabella were very close.” The shift to his child sharpened Sanchez’s tone.

“How old is she?” Kate asked.

“She’s twenty-two.”

“Does she live here?”

Sanchez closed his eyes. “She’s in prelaw at Georgetown. She comes home from time to time.”

“Where is she now?” Kate asked.

“She’s on her way home. I called her this morning. Her flight was delayed,” he said.

“I’d like to talk to her when she arrives,” Kate said.

“Why?” Sanchez challenged. “She wasn’t here when Gloria died. She’s coming home to grieve for her stepmother and to support me.”

“My questions are strictly background,” Kate said. “And I’ll do my best not to upset her.”

When Sanchez readied to speak again, Bennett laid a hand on his arm, silencing him. “I’ll want to be present when you speak to Miss Sanchez.”

“Her first name is Isabella?” Kate asked.

“Yes,” Sanchez said.

“And her biological mother was your first wife, who died in a car accident?” Kate asked.

“Selena’s death was a devastating blow.” Sanchez was clenching his jaw, an indicator of aggression. “And I don’t see how her death is relevant now.”

“That’s enough with the questions,” Bennett interjected.

Sanchez laid his hand on his lawyer’s arm. “Gloria’s death has torn me in half,” he said. “But Detective Mazur, I won’t let you traumatize my daughter.”

As if the man had not spoken, Mazur glanced to Kate and in a pleasant voice asked, “You have any more questions? I’ll stay as long as you need to be here.”

“I’ve no more immediate inquiries for Mr. Sanchez,” Kate said. “But I do want to talk to Isabella. I’ll return when she’s home.”

Mazur nodded. “We’ll be back.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The first kill is a rush of adrenaline, fear, worry, and elation all in one.

San Antonio, Texas

Monday, November 27, 8:45 p.m.

As Mazur pulled away from the Sanchez house, he was convinced Martin Sanchez had secrets. But being an adulterer didn’t make him a murderer. “The first Mrs. Sanchez died in a car accident,” Mazur said as he drove. “And Martin Sanchez is a car mechanic.”

“And Gloria is much younger. It’s a cliché because it happens a lot.” Kate glanced at the clock on the dash and frowned. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“What’s your next move in this investigation?” she asked.

“I’m going to check in with the forensic team and see what they’ve found out about Gloria Sanchez’s car. Jenny Calhoun said she’d have an update for me tonight.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“Sure.”

Five minutes into the drive, her phone buzzed. “My boss,” she said as she studied the display. “I have to take this.”

“Sure.”

“Agent Ramsey,” she said. “I have yet to draw any conclusions on the case.”

She listened, frowning. “I promise you, we’re moving as quickly as possible. Detective Mazur and I are returning to the forensic lab now to discuss the status of the victim’s car. I’ll call when I have information to report. You can do me a favor and check with the warden of Richardson’s jail. Has he received any kind of communication from anyone?” She nodded. “Good. Also, do you have an update on the Raymond Drexler case?” Absently she angled her head and rubbed the side of her neck with her hand. “All right. Keep me updated.”

When the call ended, she gripped her phone and stared out at the dark horizon. He understood what it felt like to want an arrest so badly it hurt to breathe.

“What’s the deal on Drexler?” he said.

“He’s still at large. Nevada, my partner, is following a southwardly trail through Utah. Drexler was spotted at a Utah gas station seven hours ago.”

“Pressure from above on our case?” Mazur asked.

She leaned her head back against the headrest. “There’s always pressure from above when I work a case. When I show up in your local jurisdiction, it’s generally not a good day for anyone.”

“You’ve worked a few high-profile cases, and from what I’ve read, solved several.”

“Do you remember your solved cases or the ones you didn’t crack?”

&nb

sp; “Point taken.”

She turned her head toward him. “I got the sense from the briefing today that you’re not in the inner circle of your office.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Body language is my thing. You received a few pointed stares during the brief.”

“Par for the course with this crew. No one shoved a Chicago-style pizza in my hair or pissed in my Cubs mug today, so the way I see it, it’s a good day.”

“How long were you with Chicago PD?” The light from the dash caught the sharp angle of her cheekbones.

“Eighteen years.”

“Most cops wouldn’t walk away from that.”

He cocked a brow. “Is this shrink time now?”

She shook her head. “I specialize in personality disorders, not family counseling. Just making conversation.”