“Now that’s a story I can run with.”
“What? Attack the people who work their asses off to catch killers?”
“No, about how the government spends billions of dollars on pork and next to nothing on basic services.”
“More power to you if you can get some attention to this problem.”
“So the evidence was thrown out and Will Hooper had to let Glenn go.”
“I’ve worked with Will since I became a D.D.A. and I’ve never seen him so angry or frustrated with the system. But we had physical evidence linking Glenn to the Anna Clark homicide. Irrefutable evidence, as you remember from the trial. His hair in her fist. The bleach he poured over her body didn’t touch her hand, and the evidence was preserved. With the same M.O., Robin McKenna’s testimony, and the known sexual relationships with the first three victims, we had enough evidence to tie Glenn to all four murders. Enough that a jury of twelve people had no reasonable doubt that he was guilty.”
“If the police suspected Glenn after Brandi was murdered, why didn’t they put a tail on him? Jessica was killed four weeks later.”
“You’ll have to ask Will Hooper about what the police did and did not do.” Julia averted her eyes.
“I know what happened, Julia. I just wanted to know what you knew.”
Julia was about to respond when her door burst open and both women jumped. Trinity turned to see Connor Kincaid, a local P.I. who’d been a cop years ago. She’d heard he and Julia were involved.
Right now, Connor looked like he wanted to hit something.
“Frank Sturgeon is dead.” He faced Julia. “No arguments. I’m taking you to a safe house. Far from San Diego.”
FOURTEEN
Will had first sat face-to-face with Theodore Glenn after Brandi Bell’s murder. His partner Frank Sturgeon leaned against the interrogation room wall, glowering.
They’d thought they had a solid case and could keep this twisted killer in prison. Will had also thought he was dealing with the typical, arrogant killer who would talk himself into a confession if Will played him just right.
By the end of the interrogation, Will knew he had a different breed of sociopath on his hands.
Two women were dead and Will faced their killer.
They’d kept Theodore Glenn in lockup overnight. The day before, a witness during the canvass had come forward with a description of a man who had left Brandi Bell’s house early that morning. According to Robin McKenna, the description matched a regular patron of RJ’s, a man who had dated both victims.
Theodore Glenn.
They’d arrested Glenn at his home without incident. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy it. “I’m sure we’ll get this all straightened out soon enough,” he’d told Will.
Now, the bastard was looking at him with idle curiosity. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t talk nervously. He didn’t fume. He looked as crisp and neat as when they’d brought him in the day before.
“What can I do for you?” Glenn asked, a faint smile on his lips.
“You’re a regular at RJ’s, a club in the gaslight district, correct?” Will asked.
He nodded.
“Please speak your answers out loud for the recording, Mr. Glenn.”
“Yes, I go to RJ’s once or twice a week.”
“How long have you been a regular customer?”
“About a year, maybe a little longer.”
“Why?”
“Why do I enjoy going to a strip club?” Glenn raised an eyebrow, smiling.
“When did you first go to RJ’s?” Will asked.
“A colleague of mine had his bachelor party there last year. I thought the dancers were quite talented. And very attractive. Not like some of the clubs in town showing only old, tired women with sagging breasts and no attitude.
“I particularly enjoyed Brandi. She was the head dancer, very gifted. I’m sorry something happened to her.”
Will watched carefully as Glenn put a frown on his face and shook his head back and forth. There was a falseness to Glenn’s actions, as if he were an actor following a script.
“I also enjoy watching Robin McKenna.”
Will kept his expression in check. Why would Glenn mention Robin specifically? To play with him? A tickle of fear crept up his spine. What if this bastard was watching Robin? What if she was his next target?
Had Will been so wrapped up in Robin that his instincts went south?
“Where were you last night?” Will asked.
“With a lady friend of mine.”
“A dancer at RJ’s?”
“No, not last night. A colleague. Ingrid Vanderson.”
“How long?”
“All night.”
“Where?”
“At my home.”
“Do you have contact information for Ms. Vanderson?”
“Of course. It would be in my address book. I believe you took that from my house.”
Too cocky, overly confident. Most innocent men would be protesting. Upset. Especially at having been kept in jail overnight.
“When was the last time you were at RJ’s?”
“I don’t think I need to answer any more questions, do I? I’ve given you my whereabouts last night, and the woman I was sleeping with.”
Frank suddenly slammed his fist on the table, always the one to play bad cop. “We have a witness who places you at the crime scene at the time Brandi Bell was tortured and killed.”
Glenn didn’t even blink. He showed no reaction to Frank’s temper, and in fact didn’t even look at him, responding instead to Will. “Your witness is mistaken.”
Will knew from Robin that both Bethany and Brandi had had a sexual relationship with Theodore Glenn. “Did you know Brandi Bell outside of her employment?”
“Do you mean did I see her outside of the club?”
Will nodded.
“Yes.”
“Did you have an intimate relationship with her?”
Glenn nodded with a sly smirk. “Yes, I had sex with her.”
Will tried, but knew he failed, to contain his surprise at the admission. Killers with personal ties to the victim often denied it until confronted with solid evidence. Even then, they often continued with the lie or made excuses. “When was the last time you had sex with Ms. Bell?”
“Hmmm, about a month ago. Let’s see. February second. Yes. There was a rerun of that movie Groundhog Day on one of the cable stations. They play it every year now, don’t they? It gets tiresome, but Brandi enjoyed it. We had sex once during the movie, on the floor of her living room. Then afterward, we had a late dinner. Sex on the kitchen table-have you ever done that, William? Sex on the kitchen table?”
Will gritted his teeth. Glenn was toying with him. There was no way he could have seen him and Robin. No way. They had been in his town house. The blinds were closed…
“When was the last time you saw Brandi?” Will asked Glenn.
“Last week. At the club. Friday. I’m there every Friday, and most Wednesdays. Ask Robin. She always makes a point to come by my table and say hello. Now there is a beautiful woman. I’ve often wondered, as I watch her remove her clothes, why such an attractive, smart woman would take the job of a slut?”
Will’s fist hit the steering wheel.
Carina was in the passenger seat. She turned and frowned at him, but said nothing.
He drove directly from Frank’s house-where his former partner had been gunned down sitting at his kitchen table-to The Eighth Sin. He’d had a call from dispatch that Robin McKenna had left a message for him, but when he tried her number no one answered. He called the unit watching her loft and learned the uniform had driven her to the Sin for a meeting.
“I’m sorry, Will.” Carina thought he was thinking about Frank and how his former partner died. But Will had been remembering that first interrogation. Glenn had controlled it from beginning to end. Will took another shot at him later that day, but the damage was done.
Glenn had sabotaged his relat
ionship with Robin. Planted seeds of doubt in his head about her. After Anna’s murder, Will had been too ready to believe that Robin had been the intended victim, that she had slept with Glenn, just like the first three victims. Because it was Glenn’s M.O., and Anna didn’t sleep with men. She was a lesbian.
“I’ll kill him,” Will muttered.
“Stop.”
Will swallowed, pushed Robin from his mind and focused on what Glenn had done to his retired partner.
“You saw the scene. Frank was drunk. Likely passed out. And Glenn walked in and shot him in the face.”
“You don’t know-” Carina began.
“Hell yes I do! It was Glenn. You know it, I know it.”
The cocky bastard was sly as a fox, slippery as a snake. And Theodore Glenn wanted Robin. He’d always wanted Robin. Because she had refused him. Had said no, not interested.
A man like Theodore Glenn would never tolerate rejection.
Yet Will had doubted Robin after Anna was killed. Doubted her because he knew the M.O. The facts. The damn evidence. Glenn had relationships with all the victims. Anna wasn’t supposed to be in the apartment that night-she was supposed to be at her mother’s house in Big Bear. According to Robin, Anna hadn’t told anyone else that she was gay. She feared she’d be fired if anyone knew. So that night, Robin would have been home, alone, if she and Will hadn’t been having sex in the bar.
“Fuck.”
Carina stared at him. “You don’t swear.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Screw that,” she said, angry. “We’re partners. What’s mine is yours and all that crap. At least how it relates to the job. Got it?”
Carina was right. Will had been letting the past get to him. Remembering not only the success of Glenn’s conviction, but their failures-including Frank’s drinking during the stakeout and especially seeing Robin again. When he wasn’t working specifically on Glenn’s escape, he was thinking about her.
“Got it. I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t slept much, I can cut you a little slack. But not forever, pal.”
He pulled into a parallel parking place in front of The Eighth Sin. Robin would automatically have been at the top of Glenn’s target list: She was instrumental in his conviction, and credible to the jury even after his odd cross-examination. Will’s greatest fear was that Glenn would finally kill Robin. Why had she called? It had to be serious if she wanted to talk to him.
“You had something going on with her?” Carina said softly.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve been partners for over two years, but I’ve known you it seems forever. You’re worried about this Robin McKenna, over and above what you would normally feel for a potential victim.”
“She’s not a victim.”
Carina stared at him without comment.
Will’s body tensed. He couldn’t flat-out lie to Carina, not after everything they’d been through together, the trust they’d built. He reluctantly said, “We were involved for a while. During the investigation. It didn’t work out. That’s my M.O., right?”
“Right,” Carina said, making no move to get out.
“What? You know now, leave it alone.”
“Thing is, I do know you. You’re hung up on her. You don’t act like this. The only time you ever get all funky about a woman is when Wendy comes to town and you agree to go to dinner with her.”
“She’s my ex-wife.”
“Yeah, but you loved her, didn’t you?”
Will shrugged, but it was the truth. Of course he’d loved Wendy. He wouldn’t have married her otherwise. But love wasn’t enough. Not then, with Wendy and wedding vows, and certainly not seven years ago with Robin and their insatiable lust.
“Let’s go inside,” Carina said, getting out of the car.
Damn. Her anger was gone and somehow that made Will even more uncomfortable. His partner was half Cuban, she didn’t just drop things.
Carina was ringing the bell before Will closed his door. “Swanky place. I remember walking the beat down here when I was first a cop, before redevelopment. I’m glad the city cleaned it up.”
Will was proud of what Robin had accomplished. Even though they’d only been together for a few weeks, he knew she’d wanted to own her own business. And she’d done it, in style.
No thanks to him, and without him at her side, but what could he do about that now?
The intercom buzzed. “May I help you?”
“Detectives Kincaid and Hooper, San Diego Police Department, to speak with Robin McKenna, please,” Carina said.
“Please come in.” The door buzzed.
Will frowned, thinking anyone could lie and be admitted, then he saw a discreet security camera angled above the door. Of course Robin would have security. She was a smart woman.
An attractive, petite blonde woman met them in the entrance. “I’m Gina Clover, assistant manager. Robin is in a meeting, but she’ll be done momentarily. Please follow me.”
She led them through the club-metal and hollow in its emptiness-to the Back Room which was far more welcoming and comfortable with rich, earthy tones, plush dark green carpet, and a warm atmosphere.
“Can I get either of you something to drink? We have soft drinks as well as bottled water, flavored water, or perhaps some Tazo tea? It’s fresh-brewed.”
“We’re fine,” Will said, answering for both of them.
“Water would be great,” Carina said, frowning at Will. “Thank you.”
Gina nodded with a smile and motioned for them to sit wherever they liked.
The Eighth Sin was much larger than the former RJ’s, and Will realized that Robin had bought the adjoining business and expanded. He couldn’t remember what had been in this space, but Robin must have been doing much better than he thought to be able to afford this. Maybe she had an investor. Maybe she had a lover…
What was it to him? He’d tossed her aside, told her that he didn’t believe her. Worse, she hadn’t defended herself.
Yet had he been in her shoes, would he have denied the accusations, pleaded his case? Hell no. He would have walked, furious and upset that the person he loved had no faith in him.
If he couldn’t forgive himself, how could he expect Robin to forgive him?
After the assistant manager delivered Carina’s water, Carina said, “First Sherry, then Frank. Connor has good reason to be worried about Julia, and I’m glad he took her out of town. Maybe you should be watching your back as well.”
“He’ll kill me last,” Will replied.
“What?”
“He wants me to see everyone else die before he comes for me,” Will said with certainty.
“I thought Robin McKenna was his primary target.”
“You have to understand how his mind works. He plays off people’s fears. I’m a cop. I protect people, or like to think I can. With every person he kills, he’s showing me I’m a failure-I can’t even protect the innocent. It’s Glenn’s way of twisting the screws. But with Robin-”
“Does Glenn know about your relationship with Robin?” Carina asked quietly.
Will almost said no. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t think so, but-he said some things during the interview after Brandi was murdered that made me think he’d been following Robin.”
“Stalking her?”
“Yes, but not in the traditional way we think of stalkers. I think he wanted to see how she reacted to the other girls being killed.”
“Then why wouldn’t Glenn want to see Robin’s reaction to you being killed?”
“Because Robin doesn’t care about what happens to me,” Will said. “We haven’t been involved in seven years.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” But that gave Will something more to chew on. What, exactly, did Theodore Glenn know about his life? Or Robin’s? Had he found a way to track her while in prison? Did he have help? Will couldn’t imagine Glenn confiding in anyone, but he wa
s charismatic and manipulative. Maybe he did have someone working with him. A subservient.
He said as much to Carina.
“You’re beginning to sound like Dillon,” Carina said, talking about her brother.
“I’m sure Dillon would agree with me. I arrested Glenn. He’s smart, shrewd. For example, he knew Frank was a drunk. I remember that first interrogation, Frank playing bad cop, me playing good cop.”
“You always play the good cop,” Carina interjected.
“Thing was, I wanted to go for his throat. And Glenn knew that. He understood the game. He had both of us pegged the minute we arrested him. And for the last seven years he’s been planning revenge. He knows how to get under my skin.”
“You know, and that’s half the battle, Will. You’re expecting it, you can stop it. Don’t let him in. Don’t make it personal.”
It’s always personal. While he could distance himself from the suffering of victims and the violence of criminals, when it came right down to it, it was always personal-he was the cop, it was his job to serve and to protect. When he couldn’t, he took it personally.
A door, flush against the wall when closed, opened. Soundproofing had prevented any noise from escaping and Will hadn’t noticed it. A tall, muscular, dark-skinned Cuban exited, followed by Robin. She was smiling, looked stunning in jeans and a soft dark purple sweater. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but wisps had escaped. She looked both young and wise at the same time.
Damn, he missed her.
A tightness crossed his chest when she shook hands with the man. Jealousy? What right did he have to be jealous?
“Thanks, Mario. My business is in good hands.” She glanced at Will. “Let me introduce you to the detective in charge of the task force.”
Mario nodded, turned to face Will. Will didn’t recognize him, but Carina did. “Hey, Mario!” She walked over and slapped his hand in a complex handshake usually reserved for use between men. “Good to see you.”
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