The Last Move
Page 22
“Can you prove the cousin called it in?” Mazur asked.
“No. It’s a hunch. I did a baseline interview with him. We didn’t talk about the case. His job. His house. Basic things so I could see how he reacted when there was no need to lie. When I asked him about the tip on Drexler, he leaned back as he spoke. He also crossed his legs and looked away or checked his watch. Several closed-posture gestures that deviated from the baseline suggested he was hiding secrets.”
“He involved in his cousin’s deeds?”
“I don’t think so. I think Drexler got drunk and talked more than he should. I also think the cousin, though he made the anonymous call to local police, is clearly troubled by the fact he turned in family.”
“I know what it’s like to catch a guy that insidious. For me, it was Frankie Munroe. A piece of shit from the South Side of Chicago. Developed a taste for killing young prostitutes. One was thirteen. The way he cut them.” He paused, pushing the image from his mind. “Took me nine months of tracking. But putting him down was all I drank, ate, and slept.” Caleb had recently died, and the chase had been the only way to salvage his tattering sanity.
“And you caught him.”
He tightened his hands on the wheel. “A couple of uniforms rolled up on him while he was cutting a woman’s throat. Shot and killed him.” Later that day, he’d returned home and Sherry announced she and Alyssa were moving out.
Kate didn’t press him for details, instead turning her gaze toward the highway and the faceless businesses.
They finished the trip in silence, each lost in thought. At the station, she moved beside him, hurrying to match his pace. Normally his pace was steady, but the telling of his story ginned up urgency.
They stepped off the elevators and made their way to the forensic lab. They found Calhoun leaning against a counter, her arms folded over her chest as if she’d been waiting for them.
“Have you found something in the backseat?” Kate asked.
“I did find fresh stains on the seat, and preliminary tests suggest human bodily fluids, which I’ve sent for testing. And I can tell you the receipt in Gloria Sanchez’s car proved she was at a convenience store named Lucky’s shortly before she died.”
“Good work,” Mazur said.
Calhoun shook her head. “That’s not why I called.”
She held up the plastic evidence bag containing the burner cell phone left behind by the killer. “I had barely sat down this morning when I noticed this.”
When Kate and Mazur had both gloved up, Calhoun removed the cell phone from the evidence bag and handed it to Mazur.
The new text read: When is Dr. Hayden going to make a statement to the media? Do I have to kill again?
“Did you put a trace on it?” Mazur asked.
“The message came through at 4:50 a.m., a couple of hours before I arrived. I called in the number right away, and tech support said they couldn’t get a ping on it. You were my first call after they notified me.”
Mazur showed it to Kate. “Who knows you’re working this case?”
“Mr. Sanchez and his attorney, your department, and my people.”
“So if I’m Sanchez or his attorney, would it be smart of me to send a text like this?” Mazur asked. “Or is this Samaritan nut watching?”
Kate studied the message. “His question implies knowledge. But I’ve been a background player on this case since I arrived in San Antonio. He’s either guessing I’m here or is watching this building. Did you have an officer taping the crime scene and the people watching it?”
“Calhoun had a couple of squad cars with dash-cam videos running and aimed at the traffic passing by. She knows killers often return to the murder scenes.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Smart. Can you get those for me?”
“Will do, Agent Hayden,” Mazur said.
Kate frowned. “As I’ve said, he wants to control this situation. So giving a press conference right now is the last request I’ll grant him.”
It was Mazur’s turn to frown. “Looking to make him mad?”
“That’s the point,” Kate continued. “Killers like him are egocentric. They like the limelight. Like to manipulate. They also can have very thin skin. If I ignore him, maybe he’ll get angry and make a mistake.”
“Or he’ll kill someone,” Calhoun said.
“He’ll kill again regardless,” Kate said. “He won’t stop until he’s put down.”
“You’re talking about him like he’s the Samaritan,” Mazur said.
She studied him a beat. “He just might think he is the new Samaritan.”
“And Sanchez? He didn’t shoot his wife?”
“I’ve not ruled him out either.”
He used the hotel pass key and opened room number 351. He knew Kate was out for the day and at police headquarters with Detective Mazur because he’d been watching the hotel.
She’d looked almost sweet and childlike in her dark suit that fit her so poorly. Like a child pretending to be an adult. Hiding under all the layers of fabric. Fearful of a world that she knew was a very wicked place.
He moved to the unmade bed and to the suitcase that sat open on the stand across from the bed. He picked up a pair of panties and held them to his face, inhaling her scent.
He’d dreamed about Kate relentlessly over the last few months, and now, being this close to her made his skin shiver with excitement. The panties clutched in his hand, he moved to the closet where she’d neatly hung her extra suit, still encased in plastic from the dry cleaner in Salt Lake.
Beside the suit hung a simple white silk blouse and crisp jeans dangling from a pants hanger. His heart beat faster as he ran his hand along the blouse’s soft fabric. She hung her clothes in the same order regardless of where she stayed, a fact he’d picked up on over the last few months. On the closet floor, her running shoes stood next to black ankle boots.
He turned and moved toward the bed. The outline of her head still creased the pillow, and the covers on the left side were still rumpled. The other half of the bed was smooth, and he guessed she’d had a solid night’s sleep.
“Enjoy the sleep while you can.”
He touched the sheets and sat down on the edge of the bed. Unable to resist, he laid his head back on the cool sheets, imagining her naked body. He grew hard thinking about her. He ran his hand over his erection. He reached for the button on his jeans, undid it, and slid his hand around his erection. He moved his hand up and down the hard shaft, imagining Kate lying under him, naked and moaning. His fantasy fixated on the image of her, spreading her legs wide so he could drive deep into her. He pushed all of himself into her hard and slow, knowing it hurt her and enjoying the flicker of fear on her face.
The image tipped him over the edge, and he exploded in a rush of ecstasy that shuddered through his body. He wiped himself clean with her panties and lay still for a moment, savoring the rush.
Footsteps in the hallway brought him back to the moment, and he quickly righted himself, zipped up his pants, and stuck her panties in his coat pocket.
There were so many things he wanted to do with Kate Hayden.
He moved to the bathroom. He studied the cosmetics lined up in a neat row on a carefully folded washcloth. She always lined up her cosmetics in the same way. He reached for her perfume and inhaled the scent. Neatness and organization were quirks of hers.
“No. It’s a hunch. I did a baseline interview with him. We didn’t talk about the case. His job. His house. Basic things so I could see how he reacted when there was no need to lie. When I asked him about the tip on Drexler, he leaned back as he spoke. He also crossed his legs and looked away or checked his watch. Several closed-posture gestures that deviated from the baseline suggested he was hiding secrets.”
“He involved in his cousin’s deeds?”
“I don’t think so. I think Drexler got drunk and talked more than he should. I also think the cousin, though he made the anonymous call to local police, is clearly troubled by the fact he turned in family.”
“I know what it’s like to catch a guy that insidious. For me, it was Frankie Munroe. A piece of shit from the South Side of Chicago. Developed a taste for killing young prostitutes. One was thirteen. The way he cut them.” He paused, pushing the image from his mind. “Took me nine months of tracking. But putting him down was all I drank, ate, and slept.” Caleb had recently died, and the chase had been the only way to salvage his tattering sanity.
“And you caught him.”
He tightened his hands on the wheel. “A couple of uniforms rolled up on him while he was cutting a woman’s throat. Shot and killed him.” Later that day, he’d returned home and Sherry announced she and Alyssa were moving out.
Kate didn’t press him for details, instead turning her gaze toward the highway and the faceless businesses.
They finished the trip in silence, each lost in thought. At the station, she moved beside him, hurrying to match his pace. Normally his pace was steady, but the telling of his story ginned up urgency.
They stepped off the elevators and made their way to the forensic lab. They found Calhoun leaning against a counter, her arms folded over her chest as if she’d been waiting for them.
“Have you found something in the backseat?” Kate asked.
“I did find fresh stains on the seat, and preliminary tests suggest human bodily fluids, which I’ve sent for testing. And I can tell you the receipt in Gloria Sanchez’s car proved she was at a convenience store named Lucky’s shortly before she died.”
“Good work,” Mazur said.
Calhoun shook her head. “That’s not why I called.”
She held up the plastic evidence bag containing the burner cell phone left behind by the killer. “I had barely sat down this morning when I noticed this.”
When Kate and Mazur had both gloved up, Calhoun removed the cell phone from the evidence bag and handed it to Mazur.
The new text read: When is Dr. Hayden going to make a statement to the media? Do I have to kill again?
“Did you put a trace on it?” Mazur asked.
“The message came through at 4:50 a.m., a couple of hours before I arrived. I called in the number right away, and tech support said they couldn’t get a ping on it. You were my first call after they notified me.”
Mazur showed it to Kate. “Who knows you’re working this case?”
“Mr. Sanchez and his attorney, your department, and my people.”
“So if I’m Sanchez or his attorney, would it be smart of me to send a text like this?” Mazur asked. “Or is this Samaritan nut watching?”
Kate studied the message. “His question implies knowledge. But I’ve been a background player on this case since I arrived in San Antonio. He’s either guessing I’m here or is watching this building. Did you have an officer taping the crime scene and the people watching it?”
“Calhoun had a couple of squad cars with dash-cam videos running and aimed at the traffic passing by. She knows killers often return to the murder scenes.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Smart. Can you get those for me?”
“Will do, Agent Hayden,” Mazur said.
Kate frowned. “As I’ve said, he wants to control this situation. So giving a press conference right now is the last request I’ll grant him.”
It was Mazur’s turn to frown. “Looking to make him mad?”
“That’s the point,” Kate continued. “Killers like him are egocentric. They like the limelight. Like to manipulate. They also can have very thin skin. If I ignore him, maybe he’ll get angry and make a mistake.”
“Or he’ll kill someone,” Calhoun said.
“He’ll kill again regardless,” Kate said. “He won’t stop until he’s put down.”
“You’re talking about him like he’s the Samaritan,” Mazur said.
She studied him a beat. “He just might think he is the new Samaritan.”
“And Sanchez? He didn’t shoot his wife?”
“I’ve not ruled him out either.”
He used the hotel pass key and opened room number 351. He knew Kate was out for the day and at police headquarters with Detective Mazur because he’d been watching the hotel.
She’d looked almost sweet and childlike in her dark suit that fit her so poorly. Like a child pretending to be an adult. Hiding under all the layers of fabric. Fearful of a world that she knew was a very wicked place.
He moved to the unmade bed and to the suitcase that sat open on the stand across from the bed. He picked up a pair of panties and held them to his face, inhaling her scent.
He’d dreamed about Kate relentlessly over the last few months, and now, being this close to her made his skin shiver with excitement. The panties clutched in his hand, he moved to the closet where she’d neatly hung her extra suit, still encased in plastic from the dry cleaner in Salt Lake.
Beside the suit hung a simple white silk blouse and crisp jeans dangling from a pants hanger. His heart beat faster as he ran his hand along the blouse’s soft fabric. She hung her clothes in the same order regardless of where she stayed, a fact he’d picked up on over the last few months. On the closet floor, her running shoes stood next to black ankle boots.
He turned and moved toward the bed. The outline of her head still creased the pillow, and the covers on the left side were still rumpled. The other half of the bed was smooth, and he guessed she’d had a solid night’s sleep.
“Enjoy the sleep while you can.”
He touched the sheets and sat down on the edge of the bed. Unable to resist, he laid his head back on the cool sheets, imagining her naked body. He grew hard thinking about her. He ran his hand over his erection. He reached for the button on his jeans, undid it, and slid his hand around his erection. He moved his hand up and down the hard shaft, imagining Kate lying under him, naked and moaning. His fantasy fixated on the image of her, spreading her legs wide so he could drive deep into her. He pushed all of himself into her hard and slow, knowing it hurt her and enjoying the flicker of fear on her face.
The image tipped him over the edge, and he exploded in a rush of ecstasy that shuddered through his body. He wiped himself clean with her panties and lay still for a moment, savoring the rush.
Footsteps in the hallway brought him back to the moment, and he quickly righted himself, zipped up his pants, and stuck her panties in his coat pocket.
There were so many things he wanted to do with Kate Hayden.
He moved to the bathroom. He studied the cosmetics lined up in a neat row on a carefully folded washcloth. She always lined up her cosmetics in the same way. He reached for her perfume and inhaled the scent. Neatness and organization were quirks of hers.
