Killing Fear

by Allison Brennan

  He pounded on the side of the door. “Robin!”

  She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to see him. Today at her club it had been all she could do not to give in to his kiss. Not to let herself be held. Be loved.

  Love hurts.

  “Please let me in.”

  She punched numbers into her alarm system. Disarmed. Slid open one bolt. Turned the second. Pushed back the chain. Opened the door.

  They stared at each other. Will’s blue-gray eyes, the Pacific Ocean before a storm, stared at her.

  He asked, “Can I come in?”

  She stepped back without comment. He closed the door behind him. “Robin—”

  She walked around him and bolted the door. She couldn’t leave it unlocked. She felt almost obsessive-compulsive, but in the seven years since Theodore Glenn had killed her friends she couldn’t help herself. She was terrified. Even in her own home.

  She skirted Will and went into the kitchen, keeping the counter between her and the man she used to love.

  “Who did he kill now?”

  Will blinked. “No one. That we know about.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  She held up her gun and gestured toward the door. “I’m fine. You can leave.”

  “Dammit, Robin! You’re not fine.”

  “I’ll be fine when he’s behind bars. Or dead. Better dead, I think.”

  “He knows about us,” Will said quietly.

  Her stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

  “He saw us. Together.”

  “You mean together?”

  “Yes. Having sex. That night, in the bar.”

  “Oh God.” She dry-heaved into the sink, her head spinning. She put her gun on the counter because she could no longer hold it, her hands shaking, reaching for the edge of the sink to hold herself up. The thought that Theodore Glenn had not only watched one of the most intimate moments of her life, but that he’d then gone across the street and killed her roommate, undid her rocky composure she’d been barely holding together since his escape.

  Will was at her side, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, dragging them both down to the hardwood floor. He gathered her into his lap and leaned against the wall.

  What was happening? How could that coldhearted killer have watched her having sex? Killed Anna? Why had he spared her? Suffering as a survivor was almost worse than death. Maybe she should have died. Because she certainly hadn’t been living these past years.

  She’d lost four friends. Then she’d lost Will. When she needed him most, he’d turned his back. She’d never grown close to anyone since, either a boyfriend or a girlfriend. It had been all business, no personal relationships, for seven years.

  “You see why I don’t believe you?”

  The words Will spoke back then clouded her mind as if he’d whispered them just now in her ear. She stifled a sob, Will’s arms around her tightened.

  “Robin, I am so sorry. I know you don’t believe me, I broke your trust. I can’t tell you how I feel about that. My life has been on hold. When I saw you yesterday it was like time had stopped. There you were, even more beautiful than I remembered, than I’ve dreamed about. All I wanted to do was hold you. Make love to you. Never leave you. I blew it, Robin, big-time. And I don’t see how you can forgive me. Still, I need you to forgive me. I need you.”

  “I needed you, Will.”

  Needed.

  Will heard exactly what Robin said, and it hurt. “I know.”

  She shook her head into his chest. “No. You don’t.”

  “Please, Robin. Don’t—”

  “I can’t. I can’t do it. Please don’t ask me to put my heart on the line again. I don’t have anything left to give.”

  He wanted to scream. How could he convince her he wasn’t the man she’d first met?

  He kissed her hair, her forehead. She let him hold her. Until he heard the phone conversation between Glenn and Robin, followed by Trinity’s revelation that Glenn had watched them having sex, Will hadn’t realized the depth of Glenn’s obsession with Robin. Seven years ago he’d known Robin was possibly a catalyst, that Glenn was fixated on her for some reason, to hurt people in her life but not her specifically.

  Now, the truth started to fall in place. It had all been about Robin. They simply didn’t have enough information back then to see it. And now Glenn had had years to plot his revenge, to obsess on Robin. Will had feared for Robin’s life since he’d first heard of Glenn’s escape, now he knew she was the reason he’d returned to San Diego. Everyone else Glenn wanted to kill was extraneous to him, no one compared to Robin.

  “I won’t let him get to you,” he whispered, rocking her in his lap.

  “I’ll kill him, Will.”

  The coldness in her voice disturbed him. He suspected for the first time that yes, in fact, Robin McKenna could kill Theodore Glenn. She’d had seven years to practice. Seven years to hate. He’d stolen so much from her—her security, her safety, her friends.

  And Will. Had Glenn not planted those seeds of doubt—if Will hadn’t let him—he’d never have doubted Robin. Or would he have? Was he that shallow? Except that he was a cop first. He had to ask the hard questions. And based on Glenn’s M.O., he had to ask Robin if she’d had a sexual relationship with him.

  Maybe he’d just been so close to her that he was scared of his own emotions. Pushed her away the only way he could. Accusing her of lying to him. Accusing her of sleeping with a killer.

  He’d take it all back if he could. She wouldn’t listen to him, maybe she would let him touch her.

  He kissed her. Firmly. Closely. Intimately. To show her that he loved her. Believed in her. Her lips opened. He tasted the salt of her tears on her tongue. She moaned and he held her head tightly, his hands tangled in her long, curly auburn hair. He kissed her again and again, almost disbelieving that she was kissing him back, her hands around his neck, her mouth seeking his as much as he sought hers.

  She shook her head, turned her lips from his. “Will, no.”

  “God, Robin, I love you.”

  She shook her head over and over. “Don’t. Don’t do this to me. You can’t walk into my life like this because it won’t last. Without trust, love means nothing.”

  “I was wrong. Dammit, Robin! I was wrong!”

  “I know that. And you do, too. But what about next time? What about the way you looked at Mario Medina today?”

  “The bodyguard?”

  “Like I had walked out of my office after screwing him on the desk.”

  “I didn’t. I—” He had been jealous. He’d taken one look at the good-looking, muscular bodyguard and instantly thought something had to be going on between him and Robin. Because she was a beautiful, sexy woman.

  “You’re not like that anymore—” He bit his tongue. “I mean—”

  “I’m not a stripper anymore. So when I was a stripper, you expected me to spread my legs for every halfway decent looking man who walked into RJ’s? I did it fast enough for you, didn’t I?” She pulled herself up.

  “Don’t, Robin. You know it was never like that between us. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded—”

  “Go away, Will. I’m not going to do this to myself. I can’t.”

  He stood, held her arms. “Robin, I love you.”

  She shook her head. “You only think you do. You don’t know what love is. And I don’t, either. I let my heart be broken twice, and I’m done.”

  Will sat in his car outside Robin’s loft. He was sick about their conversation—that he’d hurt her so deeply she couldn’t trust him—but he planned to spend the rest of the night watching her loft. If Glenn was going after her, it would be when he thought she was asleep and unprotected. He’d put in a couple hours sleep once dawn broke.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. “What?”

  “Good morning to you, too,” Carina said.

  “It’s two a.m.”


  “And you’re not home.”

  “What do you want?”

  “The Feds just called Chief Causey. They want to meet at oh-eight-hundred. They have some information about Glenn’s activities in prison.”

  “Causey called me earlier.”

  “You didn’t tell me?”

  “You were already planning on being in at eight.” The truth was, after talking to Trinity he’d forgotten to clue Carina in. Chalk one up to lack of sleep.

  Will was about to hang up when he saw Robin in the window of the loft. All the lights were on as she looked directly down at his car. He wasn’t exactly inconspicuous in the Porsche, even if it was black.

  “I need a favor.”

  “Sure, I’ll give you a wake-up call.”

  “I need your friend’s home address.”

  “I have a lot of friends.”

  “Mario Medina. The bodyguard.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a job for him.”

  “Last I checked he had a job.”

  “Dammit, Carina, are you going to make this difficult?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “You’re sitting outside her place, aren’t you?”

  No use lying to her. “And?”

  She sighed. “I hear you. Hold on.”

  Will looked at the window again, wanting another glimpse of the last woman in the world he’d ever wanted to hurt.

  She was gone, but the lights blazed. In the days after Robin found Anna dead, she had been terrified of the dark.

  Time didn’t heal all wounds. Or fears.

  “It’s after three in the morning.”

  Mario Medina was not happy about being woken up in the middle of the night.

  “Thanks,” Will mumbled. Mario lived in a condo right on the beach. Not too large, but with the view and beach access off the sliding glass doors, Will knew it cost a small fortune. It was neat, clean, and sparsely furnished. Will suspected he didn’t spend a lot of time here other than sleeping. He had a similar place a little farther south. The Naval base at Coronado could be seen to the southwest in daylight, now only a faint smattering of light.

  As if reading his mind, Mario said, “Six years, Marines not Navy.”

  “MP, Army.”

  “I figured you’re from a long line of cops.”

  “I need a favor.”

  Mario laughed. “You want a favor? Why should I do anything for you?”

  “Why shouldn’t you?”

  “Want a beer?”

  Will nodded. They walked out on the patio, each with a Dos Equis in hand. It was freezing as far as Will was concerned—under fifty degrees. Not why he moved to San Diego. But Mario, in a black T-shirt and shorts, didn’t seem to notice. He drained half his beer. “What?”

  “I want to hire you to keep an eye on Robin McKenna.”

  Mario showed no expression. “The woman who hired me to watch out for her?”

  “She hired you to watch the club and her employees, correct?”

  He nodded.

  “And not her, specifically.”

  Mario shook his head.

  “She needs someone watching her back and I can’t do it. This investigation is going 24/7 and I can’t justify spending the time on her. I have increased patrols in her neighborhood. We have a cop on-site at the club during regular business hours. But Theodore Glenn is going to look for that. Surveillance. He’s going to find a hole and exploit it. He’s been planning revenge for too long.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Fuck, Medina, what’s your game?”

  “I can’t do it because I committed most of my staff to her to protect her employees. I have two pairs rotating twelve-hour shifts on the club, open or closed. I don’t have a large operation. My guys are all independent contractors. And one of my best is otherwise occupied.”

  “Who? I’ll pay him.”

  “Doubt it. Connor Kincaid is watching his fianceé 24/7 and nothing’s going to buy him off that one. Can’t say I blame him, she’s a spunky little number.”

  “You have no one else?”

  “I’ll make some calls.”

  “Dammit, that’s not good enough!” Will clenched his fists. How could he protect Robin while he had a job to do?

  Mario looked out at the ocean. “I’ll keep my eye on her. You have a car on her tonight?”

  “Yes. I just checked and he’s solid.”

  “I’ll attach myself to her starting tomorrow morning. But I have to have your assurance that I will be clued in to every step of the investigation. What you know, I know. I will not be surprised, got it?”

  Will nodded, relieved. He’d have much preferred to stay with Robin himself, but he couldn’t watch her 24/7 and work the case.

  “Anything I should know?”

  “We have the Feds coming to town in a few hours. They apparently have something from San Quentin to share.”

  “Wonderful.” He sounded less than enthused.

  “I’ll check in with you tomorrow after the meeting.”

  “I’m counting on it, Hooper.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Will slept like shit for three hours before dragging himself into the shower and heading over to the station for whatever the Fed was going to report. He arrived before the FBI and debriefed Chief Causey on everything, including his previous relationship with Robin McKenna.

  He waited for an admonishment. Instead, Causey said, “Did your relationship with Ms. McKenna affect your duty as a cop?”

  “Not at all, sir. Except—” He stopped.

  “Except?”

  “I let Frank run with the investigation. If I had been more concerned about the investigation than with Robin, I would have been sitting outside Glenn’s house the night Jessica Suarez was murdered.”

  Causey didn’t say anything, and Will worried his honesty may have cost him the head position of the task force. “Will,” Causey said quietly, “I should have pulled Frank long before the Glenn case. If anyone is culpable for that girl being murdered, it’s me.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I disagree—”

  “I knew Frank had a drinking problem and I relied on you to carry him through retirement. The last thing I wanted to do was pull a once-fantastic cop and destroy his reputation. I’ve known Frank for a long time. We were in the Academy together.” Causey sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. “We also had politics to deal with seven years ago. Between Descario and the perceived reputation of the victims, we didn’t have the man power to devote to the case. And if the crime scene techs hadn’t fucked up the DNA evidence, who knows what would have happened?

  “We’d like every case to run smoothly. To do our job, interview witnesses, process evidence, arrest a suspect, earn a conviction. But you know as well as I do that textbook perfect cases are just that—in textbooks. You’re a good cop, Will. Mistakes happen and, unfortunately, sometimes with fatal results. But it’s not all on you, or Frank, or me, or the crime lab. It’s on an imperfect system and the imperfect humans within it.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Will said quietly. He’d rarely heard the chief utter more than two sentences together.

  “The Feds will be here any minute. Prepare to brief them.”

  Putting the conversation with Causey aside, Will reviewed the reports that had come in from the field. Nothing from Theodore Glenn himself in twenty-four hours, since he’d phoned Robin at her loft. No dead bodies, no sightings, nothing. Every patrol that came in at shift change reported to Will where they’d been, who they’d talked to, and all with the same conclusion: No one had seen the escaped convict.

  They had two patrols following up full-time on tips from the hotline, which was ringing nonstop with “sightings” of the escaped convict. So far, none were credible, but they had to follow up on each and every call.

  “Carina, anything come in from the patrol outside Glenn’s parents’ house?”

  “No activity,” she said. “Mrs. Glenn brought them coffee and donuts this morning
.”

  “He’s not going home. He has no beef with his parents, and he already got what he needed from them: his sister’s address.”

  The main bull pen doors swung open and Chief Causey walked in with a Suit, male, in his mid-to-late forties. The Fed was under six feet tall, with the face of a character—the kind of cop who in the movies always played the wise old mentor or sidekick. Someone you’d have fun shooting the breeze with over beers at the bar.

  Causey walked over to Will’s desk and introduced the Fed as Special Agent Hans Vigo out of Quantico.

  “Quantico?” Will asked. “You’re a long way from home.”

  “I go where I’m needed,” Vigo said with a half smile that reminded Will of a leaner Columbo.

  Causey said, “Hooper is heading the task force. He worked the case seven years ago, has a good grasp on Glenn.”

  Vigo nodded. “Good you’re still here. I’m ready when you are.”

  “You in town for a while?”

  “However long I can be of help.”

  Will pulled in Officer Diaz, who was coordinating the patrols, Chief Causey, and Carina. They met in the makeshift task-force command center.

  “To save some time,” Vigo said, “I read the past case files. Your chief was kind enough to fax them to me yesterday so I could review them on the plane, as well as the current reports.”

  “Then there’s nothing you don’t know,” Will said. “Glenn has been quiet for the last twenty-four hours. You’re a profiler, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “What I want to know is what he plans on doing next.”

  “I’m a criminal profiler, not a psychic. If you don’t mind, I’d like to listen to the conversation from yesterday—” Vigo glanced at the file in front of him. “The conversation between Theodore Glenn and Robin McKenna.”

  Will put the CD in a player and they all listened. Hearing Robin’s strained voice again, and Glenn’s taunting, angered him and made him doubly glad he’d gone to Mario Medina the night before. Robin didn’t have a death wish, but she was far more concerned about everyone else’s safety than she was about her own.

  “We’ve warned everyone we can,” Will said, “but that doesn’t mean they’ll be on guard 24/7. The crime lab, the cops working the case, the prosecution, are all on high alert. We’ve contacted the jurors and everyone else who testified. He’s already taken out two people close to the investigation, his own sister, who testified against him, and my former partner.” Will paused. “The prosecution’s primary witness, Robin McKenna, has hired additional security for her business, and we’ve increased patrols in that neighborhood. We’re still tracking down other witnesses.”