Killing Fear

by Allison Brennan

  Hans said, “Robin, how long were you alone in the bar?”

  “It was a weeknight, we closed at midnight, locked the door.” She paused. “There were three regulars still there, but they just finished their drinks and chatted while RJ and I cleaned up.”

  “Who let them out?”

  “I don’t remember. It could have been either of us. Probably RJ.”

  “Why wasn’t RJ there when Will arrived?”

  “He was tired. He had heart problems and was on medication. He’d been talking about selling out. In fact, he later sold to me. After Brandi was killed RJ lost his drive. He was already old, but he suddenly got older. I told him to go home, I would stock up and finish. He didn’t want to, but—I promised him I’d be okay. He left about one. Will came in shortly after that.”

  “Did you see Theodore Glenn at all that night?”

  She shook her head. “RJ banned him. He wasn’t allowed on the property.”

  “Could he have snuck in?”

  “I don’t see how. We had a bouncer, and—” She paused. “The bouncer left after the last dance. That’s eleven on weeknights.”

  “So there was an hour when he could have snuck in,” Will said. An hour where Glenn could have killed Robin.

  “I don’t see—” She swallowed. “Yeah, he would have known our routine. But—I don’t see where he’d have been.”

  “What about in the dressing room?” Will said. “If the shows were over, would there have been any reason for you or RJ to go back there?”

  Slowly, Robin shook her head. “The last two girls left at eleven thirty that night. Together. Safety in numbers and all that.”

  “Why did you let RJ leave you there alone?” Will asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I never seriously thought Theodore would hurt me. He was targeting women who slept with him. I never did. I didn’t feel he was a personal threat to me. I was scared, but not that kind of scared. I don’t know!”

  “When did you turn on the alarm?” Hans asked.

  “When I left.”

  “So he left before that,” Hans said.

  “I—I guess. It was on motion detectors, so if someone were inside the alarm would have gone off.”

  “Could he have had the code?”

  “I doubt it,” Robin said. “RJ changed it monthly and every time an employee left.”

  Will said, “We checked the logs per routine and it was untouched after Robin locked up at one fifty-two that morning.”

  “See?” Robin said. “He saw Will and me, then went over to kill Anna.”

  “But everyone thought Anna was out of town,” Will said. “You said so yourself—she told everyone at the club.”

  “Then—he went there to kill me and she was there.” Robin swallowed.

  “I don’t think so,” Hans said. “Whoever killed Anna had time to restrain her, cut her, and position her body.” He paused. “After reviewing the crime scene, the killer must have spent at least fifteen minutes there, and that’s rushing it. If Glenn killed her before midnight—before he could have slipped into the club—the time of death would be completely different. And while time of death is not wholly accurate, when we have the body that quickly we can narrow it down better. If he killed her after watching you and Will—the time of death would have proven that. As it was, death was fixed at between one and one thirty a.m. Will received the page at twelve fifty-five. He told me he arrived at the club at one-oh-five or so. You both left at one fifty. Since Glenn knows information about that time period, he couldn’t have killed Anna. He wouldn’t have had enough time. Not considering what was done to the body.”

  Hans looked from Will to Robin. “The million dollar question is, who called Will from your apartment? Anna—or her killer?”

  Will squeezed Robin’s hands. “I see where you’re coming from, Hans. I can’t believe I overlooked that back then.”

  “You didn’t. You assumed Robin called you.”

  “But I didn’t ask her. If I had, we could have figured this out seven years ago.”

  “But the conclusion would have been the same,” Hans reminded him. “The evidence points to Glenn.”

  “Could Anna have called me?” Will asked, almost to himself. “If she was scared or heard something, why wouldn’t she have called 911?”

  “I was right across the street! Why didn’t she call me?”

  “We don’t know, we’re only speculating…”

  “Or Glenn called Will,” Robin said, grasping at straws. “You said the killer may have called him. To scare him. Didn’t you say that he wanted to scare me by making me think he was after Will, and scare Will to make him think he was after me?”

  “If the time line proved that, I’d say it was a damn good guess,” Hans said. “I do believe that Glenn was after you that night. Then Will came into the bar. He wasn’t expecting him. Maybe he wasn’t prepared.”

  “So who killed Anna? Who would want her dead? She was harmless. Sweet.”

  Hans was about to say something, but Will interrupted. “We don’t know, but we will find out. In the meantime, we have a more important problem. Glenn is still out there and he is playing with you. And me.” He looked at Mario. “Sit on her tight. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “What about you?” Robin asked, her voice wavering.

  “I’m a cop. I’m surrounded by cops. I’ll be okay.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “Glenn killed Anna,” Robin said emphatically. She didn’t look at either of them.

  Pickles jumped in her lap. Will stared at him, looked at Hans. “This is Anna’s cat,” Will told him, awestruck.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Robin said, scratching the cat’s ears.

  “If Theodore killed Anna, he would have wanted to torment her first,” Hans said.

  “Remember his sister’s testimony?” Will said softly. “About how he tormented her by killing her cat? And no one believed her?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s part of his M.O.,” Will said. “He plays with his victims. Cutting them. Pouring bleach over them. Killing their pets in front of them. But Anna’s cat lived.”

  “Maybe Pickles hid from him,” Robin said, her voice almost a whimper.

  “This is the friendliest cat on the planet,” Will said. “The cat proves it.”

  “Proves what?” Robin demanded.

  Hans answered. “Theodore Glenn didn’t kill your roommate.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Will walked outside with Hans. He instructed the patrol to be on alert, then pulled Hans away from the other cops.

  “She’s going to be okay,” Hans told him.

  “We laid a bomb on her tonight,” Will said, frustrated. While last night he’d been only half convinced that Glenn hadn’t killed Anna, tonight he was certain. “I never thought about that phone call coming from Robin’s apartment,” he admitted. “It just didn’t enter my mind. Shit, I could have saved Anna.”

  “You don’t know that. She could have been already dead. You could be dead now. You can’t second-guess yourself in this business. It’ll eat you up. We make difficult decisions instantly and then spend years thinking about every fraction of a second. What if we did this, what if we did that. I’ve worked hostage negotiations, and I’ve worked with hostage negotiators who were on the edge because they began to question themselves after an assignment went bad.” Hans stared Will in the eyes. “Don’t do it. You can’t afford to lose your judgment now. You’re going to have to make those difficult decisions, and you can’t doubt your instincts and experience.”

  Will let out a pent-up breath. “Who? Who wanted to kill Anna?”

  “Or, who wanted to kill Robin?”

  Hearing it out loud unnerved Will. “Other than Glenn,” he added.

  “It’s nearly two in the morning.” Hans Vigo glanced at his watch. “She’s worn out and on edge right now. We’re going to have to talk to her in the morning about her
life back then. But first we have to bring in Jim Gage.”

  “Because of the evidence on scene.”

  Hans said, “I’ve played with every scenario I could think of, but the only thing that makes sense—if we agree that Glenn didn’t kill Anna Clark—is that someone involved in the case killed her and framed Glenn by planting the evidence.”

  Will nodded. “Hair would be easy forensic evidence to plant. It doesn’t need special storage, like blood, and it doesn’t degrade.”

  “The follicles would degrade after a short period of time,” Hans said, “and I need a more detailed report as to exactly how the hair was tested and what they found.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “We do this quietly,” Will said, rubbing his face. “I’ll talk to Trinity again tomorrow, make sure she keeps it off the air. If Anna’s killer thinks we’re looking into the case again, he may get scared and do something rash.”

  “And we have to consider that the killer may already know. Trinity’s report wasn’t all that secret.”

  “They wouldn’t know we took Glenn’s comments seriously. Hell, I pretty much called Trinity a fool for even considering the possibility.”

  “Which gives us a break. Everyone knows how you feel about Glenn, you’re running the investigation, and if you don’t give credence to Glenn’s claims, then no one else will.”

  “What if we asked Trinity to play along with us?” Will suggested, an idea popping into his head.

  “How so?”

  “We do an interview. Say only what we want Anna’s killer to hear. Trinity can go public with the fact that Glenn contacted her, ask us about his statement, and we put it to rest.”

  “There’s only one problem with that,” Hans said.

  “It’ll piss Glenn off.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We’ll keep watch on Trinity 24/7. And give her an out. Let her say no. We issue a formal statement through Chief Causey, get the information out there either way.”

  “But Trinity Lange is respected and known,” Hans said. “It would give credence to our statement.” He gave a quick nod. “If both she and your chief go for it, I think it’ll work. It’ll buy us time to find Glenn. Once he’s behind bars we’ll all rest easier. But until then, you’re one hundred percent confident in Jim Gage?”

  “Yes. No doubts.”

  “Then we need to meet with him out of his office tomorrow. Away from any police hangouts.”

  “What about here, at Robin’s place?”

  Hans agreed.

  “Let me set it up with Gage and smooth the way,” Will said. “He’s not going to like what we have to say.”

  “He doesn’t have to like it. He just has to keep his mouth shut.”

  Robin relished her privacy. Running a popular club, always having her social face on, was draining. Having people in her home was equally draining.

  She couldn’t consider anyone but Theodore Glenn killing Anna. Not tonight. Her head was pounding and all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

  But she feared the nightmares.

  She contemplated drinking herself to sleep, but didn’t want to use alcohol as a crutch. More important, what if Glenn came around? Tonight, tomorrow, the next day? She needed to be on full alert.

  She walked over to her art corner, looked at the project she hadn’t touched since Saturday. It was going to be a gaslamp scene, an expression of her love for this area and the people who lived and worked here. The view was of storefronts on the same street as the Sin. She’d taken a series of photographs from two corners, and had designed the piece to reflect both sides of the street, focusing on perspective and color.

  She loved working with color.

  Her first art show was Sunday. She didn’t want to cancel, but she didn’t see that she had a choice. If Glenn wasn’t in jail by then, how could she put all those people in jeopardy?

  She had to make the decision about opening the club tomorrow as well. They would normally open at five in the evening. They had a large after-work crowd who mostly came to drink, listen to music, and socialize. They blended into the evening dance crowd that really came on scene around nine.

  She didn’t want to close. Her business would suffer. Her employees counted on their wages. Could she afford to pay them without bringing in income? Not for long. Maybe for this weekend. But it wasn’t just wages, they received more in tips than they did in their paychecks.

  She turned away from her art, which usually brought her joy. There was no joy left tonight.

  A loud rap sounded on the door. She crossed over and looked out the peephole, expecting Mario.

  Will stood there again. Staring right back at her, though Robin knew he couldn’t see her.

  Her heart jumped. Her emotions were on overload, but she admitted she was relieved—happy—to see him.

  She turned off the alarm, unbolted the door, and let him in. “I thought you’d left.”

  “I walked Hans out. Can I come in?”

  Robin stood aside, let Will in, then rebolted the door and reset the alarm. She put her forehead against the door. “Will, he’s going to kill you.” She couldn’t believe that was the first thing she said, but it was her greatest fear.

  “No, he’s not.”

  Will was right behind her. His hands were on her shoulders and he squeezed. She stifled a cry. She’d wanted him to touch her. Stay with her. Protect her from her fears and doubts. Reconnect with him, rediscover what they’d lost seven years ago. If only she had forgiven him back then, would her life have been different? Maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone.

  She said in a whisper, “Do you really believe that someone else killed Anna?”

  “Yes,” Will said, his voice tight.

  She began to shake. The more she tried to control it, the worse the shaking became.

  “First things first,” Will said, turning her to face him. His eyes explored her, his arms wrapping around her, keeping her close, rubbing her shoulders. “We’ll recapture Theodore Glenn. He’s the immediate threat. Don’t forget that. Whoever killed Anna thinks they got away with it. Hans and I are going to do everything we can to make them think just that. So if you hear on the news tomorrow that we don’t give any credence to Glenn’s statement, don’t believe it.”

  “I—I can’t think about Anna right now. It’s hard for me to accept. I just—” She swallowed, unable to get her thoughts to come out right.

  Will was so close, his face inches from Robin’s. “I understand,” he whispered. “I hate it. That I might have made mistakes in the investigation, that I didn’t think anything of that page from your home number, that I might have been able to save Anna—”

  “Or be killed.”

  He kissed her lightly. “I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. God, Robin, I—”

  He dropped to his knees, his mouth skimming her clothing. He looked down at the floor, then up at her.

  “Will—”

  “I need you to forgive me, Robin.” His arms wrapped around her waist and he kissed her stomach. “I was so wrong, I made a mistake, I’m sorry. I’ll apologize every day for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes to get you back—”

  “No—” she whispered.

  He cut her off. “I’ve missed you. I think about you every night. I’ve lived with this deep regret for too long. I threw you away, I didn’t know what a precious gem I had in my hands.”

  “Oh, Will, don’t—”

  “I have to make you understand. I need you to understand.”

  Robin fell to her knees so that they were face-to-face. She kissed him. She didn’t want to hear him say I love you. Not now, not like this. Not when she didn’t know if she could believe him, if the words would be spoken out of guilt or regret.

  She’d never stopped loving him, but forgiveness was so hard for her. The pain twisted in her heart, the love and the hurt entwined.

  Robin wrapped her arms around his neck
, pulled him close to her, at first taste remembering the passion and discovery they’d enjoyed when they first met. She’d missed him, missed the intimacy and intensity that she’d never had with any other man. She didn’t need to lead or follow, she didn’t need to direct or act. With Will she was herself, giving fully, receiving fully, her glorious potential exposed, bringing the best out of Will and he drawing the best out of her.

  He moaned into her mouth and she swallowed his desire. Her hands worked on his buttons, frantic now. Not wanting to wait to remember everything they’d had. She pushed off his shirt, pulling his undershirt out of his Dockers, his chest hot to the touch. Her mouth moved from his lips to his chest, her tongue swirling around his nipples as she pushed him back to the floor.

  This was how she remembered Will. The heat and excitement and heavy desire. No waiting, no holding back. All of him, right now. His hands were under her shirt, his fingers unsnapping her bra with a flick of his wrist. Then his hands on her breasts, kneading, pulling, pushing, making every cell in her body throb for more.

  She licked him, all the way down his chest, to his navel. Her fingers popped open his button fly and freed him, but she didn’t stop. She pulled his slacks off, jerking his shoes off at the same time.

  “Come here, Robin.” Will’s voice was thick and deep.

  As she trailed wet kisses up his body, his hands grabbed her arms and pulled her up so she lay on top of him. When he kissed her this time, her breath disappeared. Will rolled over, covered her body with his, his kisses going deeper, harder, more fierce as they tried to get even closer. His hands gripped her hair as their bodies moved together; her hands couldn’t stop. It had been so long, too long, since they’d touched, kissed, held each other skin to skin.

  “Take. Off. My shirt.” Robin could barely catch her breath, Will had intoxicated her.

  He leaned up just enough to pull her T-shirt over her head and she tossed her bra across the room. Then their chests touched and she moaned, grabbed Will and brought him back down to her, her long jean-clad legs wrapped around his waist, her mouth finding his, the roughness of his nighttime stubble arousing her as much as his tongue dueling with hers. His mouth moved to her neck and suckled, biting her lightly, then to her shoulder, down to her breast where he took as much into his mouth as possible, the suction causing her to gasp and arch her back. His hand found the other breast where he massaged, until he switched sides, the exquisite pleasure with a touch of pain, just enough to make it real, to make her regret walking out seven years ago. To make her yearn for the past and crave the future.