“That would be helpful.”
“Are you going to arrest William?”
“Right now we simply want to talk to him.” Mazur was smooth, made it sound like they were looking to have a friendly chat and catch up.
Jeb moved to his desk and retrieved a key from the center drawer. “The place is a little rustic. It was Mom and Dad’s first home, before Dad made his money. I guess that’s why William likes it. Reminds him of simpler times.”
Mazur accepted the key. “Does the family have a place in New York?”
Jeb’s brow furrowed. “No. All our business is in Texas. Why do you ask?”
Mazur rattled the key in his fist. “I don’t know. It’s a big city. A good place for a guy like William to hide.”
“That would be the last place William would go,” Jeb said.
“Why would his housekeeper, Elizabeth Lopez, tell us he was in New York?” Mazur asked.
“She must have been mistaken,” Jeb said.
“I’m not debating that with you now. If William is not at this cabin, where else would he be?”
“It’s anyone’s guess. William is smart. Knows how to set up dummy corporations that own multiple properties. If he doesn’t want to be found, it’s going to be tough to find him.”
Kate was silent as Mazur drove on TX-173, bracketed by grassy flatlands and scrub trees and endless barbwire fencing. The sky was full of stars and the landscape full of scattered barns and farmhouses. A few trucks and cars passed them, but for the most part this stretch of road was quiet and dark.
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the entrance to the Bauldry property, marked by twin stone pillars and metal struts that supported a sign that read “Stone Horse Farm.”
Dust kicked up around the car as they drove another ten minutes down a dirt road that ended at a one-level ranch built over one hundred years ago. It had a tin roof, a wraparound porch, and stone chimneys that hugged both the east and west sides of the house. The house was dark, the only sign of movement caused by the wind rustling through the trees near a horse corral.
Mazur left his car running and headlights shining into the house as they both got out of the car. Drawing his weapon, he moved in front of her and took the five stairs first. Kate also drew her weapon, and they stood on opposite sides of the door. He pounded on the door with his fist and called out, “Bauldry! San Antonio police!”
Silence answered them. It didn’t appear that anyone was here, but a smart cop assumed trouble waited behind the door. A dark house and a man who didn’t want to be found created a ripe scenario for trouble. Mazur banged again on the door, then tried the doorknob. It twisted open.
“It’s common for folks out here to not lock their doors,” Kate said.
“I never trust an unlocked door.” He raised his gun and pushed open the door. Again silence. With the headlights shining into the house, now he had enough light to switch on the lights in the porch and main room. Reddish-brown tiled floors ran throughout a large den and into a connected kitchen. Twin guns hung over a stone fireplace, faded red Navajo rugs warmed the floor by a leather couch, and a collection of deer antlers adorned the wall. Off to the side stood a wide-screen television.
Again, Mazur shouted, “William Bauldry! San Antonio police!”
“Stay here,” Mazur ordered. He moved into the house slowly, constantly looking left, right, and up toward the ceiling as he went through the den and kitchen and into the two bedrooms on opposite sides of the house. He shouted to Kate, “All clear!”