The Last Move
Page 18
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?”
“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.”
“Sounded like an interrogation.”
She shrugged. “Interrogations are about the closest I get to conversations these days.”
Silence settled for a moment, and there was only the rush of the wind past his window. “If you’re making conversation and not analyzing, then yeah, the move has been tough. Still haven’t sold the condo in Chicago, and if I have to use GPS one more time to find a crime scene, I might commit murder.”
“Why did you move?”
“Divorce. Ex moved our kid to San Antonio.” Despite his best effort, anger resonated behind the words.
“Staying close to your child is good. My dad died when I was a teenager.”
“Must have torn you up.”
“Of course. Devastated. He loved me and I loved him, but we didn’t get each other. Lots of talking around each other.”
“Alyssa is a little like you, Kate. She keeps it all inside. She hides her feelings. Makes jokes when she’s worried.”
“What makes you so sure I have feelings?”
That prompted a genuine laugh. “You’re right. The jury is still out on that one.”
She seemed unable to resist a smile. “What does your daughter like to do?”
“She’s the smartest kid in the school. Band club. Chess club. Theater.”
“None of the activities you can relate to?”
“No.”
“Is she like her mother?”
“Has her brains, thank God. And her looks. But not her polish. Kid can’t schmooze worth crap.”
“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?”
“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.”
“Sounded like an interrogation.”
She shrugged. “Interrogations are about the closest I get to conversations these days.”
Silence settled for a moment, and there was only the rush of the wind past his window. “If you’re making conversation and not analyzing, then yeah, the move has been tough. Still haven’t sold the condo in Chicago, and if I have to use GPS one more time to find a crime scene, I might commit murder.”
“Why did you move?”
“Divorce. Ex moved our kid to San Antonio.” Despite his best effort, anger resonated behind the words.
“Staying close to your child is good. My dad died when I was a teenager.”
“Must have torn you up.”
“Of course. Devastated. He loved me and I loved him, but we didn’t get each other. Lots of talking around each other.”
“Alyssa is a little like you, Kate. She keeps it all inside. She hides her feelings. Makes jokes when she’s worried.”
“What makes you so sure I have feelings?”
That prompted a genuine laugh. “You’re right. The jury is still out on that one.”
She seemed unable to resist a smile. “What does your daughter like to do?”
“She’s the smartest kid in the school. Band club. Chess club. Theater.”
“None of the activities you can relate to?”
“No.”
“Is she like her mother?”
“Has her brains, thank God. And her looks. But not her polish. Kid can’t schmooze worth crap.”
