The Last Move (Criminal Profiler 1)
“He doesn’t bother you?”
“I didn’t say that. He has a talent for finding the raw nerve. But he won’t bully me into a quote.”
Mazur found he liked Kate’s professional style more and more. “And that bit about analyzing facial footage from the gas station. We never saw his face.”
“I never said I didn’t lie to the media, Detective Mazur. I know the traits liars project, which makes me very good at deception. I can play their game, too.”
Shaking his head, he grinned. “Well played, Kate.”
She checked her watch. “Who’s watching the burner phone left at the crime scene?”
“Calhoun. She’s plugged it into a charger and will call if anyone texts the number.”
“Good. I think it’s now time that we paid a visit to William Bauldry’s house,” she said. “Time to see what he’s been up to.”
“You can handle that?” Mazur asked.
“Of course.”
Mazur angled his head as he studied a very genuine expression. “That a truth or a lie, Kate?”
“Doesn’t matter. The job has to be done.”
Mazur didn’t speak to Kate as they drove across town to William Bauldry’s house. She was glad for the quiet and the time to process the press conference and settle her thoughts regarding Bauldry. Dealing with Bauldry again bothered her very much, but feelings had no relevance in her line of work.
They parked in front of a large adobe-style home. “I’m doing the talking,” Mazur said.
“But I know him. I should lead the conversation.”
“You know him too well. You’re not impartial regardless of how many times you say it out loud.”
“I’m objective and can handle myself.”
“This is my case. I do the talking.” Steel underscored the words, and it gave her enough pause to take an emotional step back and see his logic.
He walked up to the front door and rang the bell. The chimes echoed in the house. Footsteps sounded, followed by the click of several locks, before the door opened to a young woman. She was small, in her midthirties, and her blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a black shirt and slacks.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Mazur held up his badge. “I’m here to see Mr. Bauldry.”
“He’s in New York right now,” the woman said. “He’ll return in two weeks.”
“When did he leave?” Mazur asked.
“A week ago.”
“Do you have a number for him?” he pressed.
She stood ramrod straight, but the tilt of her chin betrayed some of her nerves. “I’m not at liberty to give out that information, but I can give him your name and number when he calls in.”
Mazur gave her his card. “Who are you?”
“Mr. Bauldry’s housekeeper. Elizabeth Lopez.”
“Have him call me as soon as you give him the message.”
“Yes, sir.” The woman moved to close the door, but Mazur blocked it with his foot. “Tell Mr. Bauldry he will not want to make me wait long.”
She paled, nodded, and closed the door, and Mazur turned from the entrance, his jaw pulsing.
He inspected the large home. “Looks like Bauldry landed on his feet.”
“It’s family money,” she said.
“Do you think he’s in New York?” Mazur asked.
“No. William hates crowds. He couldn’t handle the packed hallways of high school. New York would be the last place he’d go.”
“Where else could he be?”
“Bauldry has a brother, Jeb, outside town,” she said. “Jeb might know where William is.”
“That’s all he has in the way of family?”
“That I know of.”
“Let’s pay him a visit.”
Twenty minutes later they arrived at Jeb Bauldry’s house, located twenty miles outside of town on a sprawling ranch. Bald cypress trees lined an aggregate driveway that led through stone pillars toward an arched entrance.
“The family is more well off than I imagined,” Mazur said.
“The old man made his money in oil in Houston. Invested wisely in real estate. Jeb then took over and had his father’s knack for making money. He avoided the market meltdown in ’08, then bought stocks afterward for a song and rode them higher. If you have investments, he’s the man to see.”
“Only investment I have is my condo in Chicago, which I’m still trying to sell. If I can’t see it or touch it, I don’t want it. What about you?”
“I’m in the markets.”
“I bet with your brain you can see the trends.”
“Sometimes.”
“So what are you going to do with your millions?”
That prompted a smile. “I’ve no idea.”
He paused. “First, you didn’t discount the millions. Second, how could you not know?”
“Work gives me the most pleasure.”
He shook his head. “All work and no play . . . how does that go?”
“I’m the first to admit I’m very boring. If you want excitement, find someone else.”
Mazur rang the bell, and they waited in silence until the front door opened. Both
showed their badges.
“Agent Kate Hayden to see Mr. Bauldry.”
“One moment, please.” The woman left and returned. “Yes, he’s waiting for you in his study. Right this way.”
They passed along polished marble floors through an arched passageway that led to an open room. A bank of windows opened up onto a lush stand of grass. The woman steered them to an office.
Jeb Bauldry rose and came around a large hand-carved desk. His gaze locked on Kate.
“The last time we saw each other in person was at my brother’s sentencing.”
“Yes,” she said. She’d felt sorry for the family dealing with the wake of their son’s violence. Bauldry senior had died a year later of a heart attack, and Mrs. Bauldry had passed five years ago from cancer.
“I supposed you’ve come about William.”
“Yes,” said Mazur. “Is he here?”
“I haven’t heard from him in months. The family has had almost no contact with him since he went to prison.”
“Have you seen him in the last year?” Kate asked.
“I have. And he’s a different person now, Kate. He’s not the troubled young man he used to be. My father saw to it that he had doctors while in prison. He would never hurt you again.”
Kate’s focused on showing no reaction, but it was harder than she’d anticipated.
“Has he mentioned Dr. Hayden?” Mazur asked.
Jeb drew in a breath. “My mother visited William while in prison. I wasn’t happy about it, but he was her son and she couldn’t abandon him. She said he mentioned you often.”
“What did he say?” Kate asked.
“He was desperate to reach you and get your attention. I don’t blame you for ignoring him, but it troubled him deeply.”
“Makes perfect sense that I wouldn’t engage him in a dialogue.”
Jeb was silent for a moment, clearly rethinking the consequences of his comment. “We were all devastated when he shot your father. Our family grieved just as much as yours.”
“I doubt that.”
He shook his head. “No one has pity for the shooter’s family. No one. I struggled for years to get beyond what William had done. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I was punished.”
She wasn’t going to get into a discussion on who suffered most. “Where is William now?”