Killing Fear

by Allison Brennan

  “Will, it’s Jim Gage. I wanted to bounce a couple ideas off you. No rush, call me in the morning.” He hung up.

  Thing was, he couldn’t get the idea out of his mind. Even though it was well after one in the morning on the East Coast, Jim called Dr. Dillon Kincaid at his house. Dillon was a private practice forensic psychiatrist who had consulted often with the San Diego Police Department until he moved to Washington last year.

  Dillon answered on the third ring, half-asleep.

  “Sorry to wake you,” Jim said. “It’s Jim Gage from San Diego.”

  “Jim. What’s wrong?” He sounded more alert.

  “Everyone’s fine,” Jim said. “I have a difficult case and wanted to run it by you.”

  “Hold on.”

  A minute later, Dillon picked up another extension. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “This is loosely related to the Theodore Glenn case.”

  “Have you caught him?”

  “No. It’s about his last victim. We think someone else killed her and framed Glenn.”

  Dillon didn’t say anything for a long minute. “That would mean someone with inside knowledge of the case killed her.”

  “Yes. A cop or a criminalist.”

  “And how can I help?”

  “Will is working with a Fed on this, Agent Hans Vigo. We had a talk this morning about the intended victim being Robin McKenna. It was her roommate who was killed, but Anna was supposed to be out of town the night she died.”

  “Go on.”

  “What I can’t get my mind around is that someone—either the victim or the killer—called Will Hooper at twelve fifty-five a.m. from the victim’s apartment. Anna was killed within thirty minutes of that call.”

  “So she could have been dead or alive at that point?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t know, someone to bounce ideas off of. I feel like something is here, but I can’t clearly see it.”

  “Let’s backtrack. Tell me about Anna.”

  “She was a twenty-one-year-old stripper at RJ’s. A lesbian, but most people didn’t know that. She’d been roommates with Robin McKenna for six months. Quiet, kept to herself. She’d apparently been molested by her father for years, according to Robin. Her mother divorced him, and she and her daughter were trying to work out a relationship, which is why Anna was heading to Big Bear for a weekend with her mom. But her mother was delayed, and Anna apparently turned around and came back to San Diego, though that’s conjecture.”

  “And Anna knew Will?”

  “She would have had his number because he interviewed all the employees of RJ’s during the investigation into the first three murders.”

  “Where’s Anna’s father?”

  “Back east somewhere. You don’t think he killed his daughter?”

  “And planted evidence against Glenn? No, unless he’s a cop.”

  “No. A middle manager at some computer company in Massachusetts.”

  “What about Robin McKenna?”

  “She was closing at the bar that night. She was delayed—when Will saw the lights on in the bar, he went there instead of the apartment across the street.”

  “Wait—she was in the bar while someone else called Will from her apartment? Why did Will think that Robin had called him?”

  “Because Anna was out of town.”

  “And a cop would just go over to the house and not call back?”

  “They were romantically involved.”

  “Ah. So he gets the page and heads over there. I remember the Glenn case. He targeted strippers. Why couldn’t he have been the one to kill Anna? There was evidence, right?”

  “Yes, but—we now have new evidence. An alibi for Glenn. It’s pretty tight, Dillon.”

  “So you don’t think Glenn could have killed Anna.”

  “No.”

  “What physical evidence did you have?”

  “Hair.”

  “Easy enough to plant. What about the M.O.?”

  “On the surface, identical. Multiple cuts with an X-ACTO knife, body doused in bleach, throat slit. But looking at the evidence more critically, the cuts appear shallower than the first three victims and there are fewer marks. We also believe that the marks were made postmortem, but that’ll be hard to prove at this point.”

  “Why wasn’t that noticed at the autopsy?”

  “If the coroner was rushed, it wouldn’t have been obvious. Again, we’re going off the crime scene photos on that one and it’s a close call, especially after the bleach.”

  “Hmm.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Was Robin the intended victim?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  “Okay, let’s play this out. Anna Clark was supposed to be out of town. I assume this was common knowledge?”

  “Yes.”

  “So the killer would have every reason to believe that Robin would be coming home, alone, that night. So he breaks into the apartment, and either finds Anna there, or Anna arrives while he’s waiting for Robin. He has to kill her.”

  “If Anna arrived while the killer was there, the killer would have to have called Will.”

  “Was the phone dusted?”

  Jim looked over the reports. “Yes. Only smudged prints.”

  “That’s odd.”

  Jim’s stomach sank. Why hadn’t he seen that before? There should have been clear prints from at least whomever used the phone last.

  “The killer wore gloves. Called Will. Why did he want Will to find the body?”

  “If Robin was the intended victim, the killer knew about Will’s relationship with her. Wanted Will to be the one to find her,” Dillon said.

  “That’s almost exactly Glenn’s M.O.,” Jim said. “Glenn got his thrills first from making his victims suffer, then watching Robin’s reaction to the news when she learned they were dead.”

  “But Jim, Anna’s killer hasn’t killed again, at least not in the same manner. Which suggests that this was a personal crime. A premeditated crime of passion.”

  “Passion?”

  “Look at Robin’s ex-boyfriends, other people at the time who may have stalked her.”

  “It sounds too coincidental that she would have two stalkers—Glenn and this unknown killer.”

  “She led a public life, exposed herself in front of thousands of men. I can see how more than one might be unbalanced enough to kill.”

  “But to also be a cop?” Jim made a note. “At least this gives me something to go on. Thanks, Dillon.”

  “Anytime, Jim. And I’ll think more on it. Call me if you have anything new, I’m happy to help. But you should run the scenario by Will and Agent Vigo. He’s a good guy, by the way. I’ve worked with him before.”

  “Glad for the recommendation.”

  Jim hung up, drew up a detailed time line and the list of suspects. He also made a note that perhaps someone in law enforcement who wasn’t directly involved in evidence collection had accessed the information. It wasn’t unheard of, and the evidence locker wasn’t restricted to law enforcement personnel. Anyone from the D.A.’s office to cops to the crime lab could go in there and simply sign in. They could easily lie about what evidence they were viewing. No one double-checked, unless they were removing it from the locker.

  And something as small as a few hairs could easily be concealed.

  Ten minutes later his doorbell rang. He rose from his desk, glanced out the peephole, confused more than concerned.

  He opened the door. “You could have called.”

  “I could have.”

  Jim barely noticed the gun until three bullets hit him in the chest.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Will knocked on Robin’s door after midnight. He’d debated going home, but he wanted to see her. She’d seemed so lost after she learned that the woman helping Theodore Glenn had been in her employ for the past thirteen mont
hs.

  Mario had left one of his men guarding the door. “Detective,” the man acknowledged.

  Robin unbolted the door and let Will in. As soon as she closed and locked it, Will took her in his arms, her body up against the wall. He kissed her as if it were for the last time.

  Her arms went around his neck and she pulled him to her, drinking in his embrace as if she hadn’t seen him in years and still loved him.

  With Robin, he never wanted to wait, he wanted to make love to her wherever they were, at the drop of a hat. It had been that way since the moment they first met, but he didn’t want their relationship to be built solely on lust. He wanted the connection they’d begun before he blew it, the one he prayed they could find again.

  “Robin,” he murmured, pulling back.

  “Hmm,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleepy desire.

  He kissed her neck, so white and long and soft. He felt the vibration of a moan in her larynx, so he kissed her again.

  Will picked her up and carried her to her bed.

  “The bed? That’s a novel idea,” she teased.

  He didn’t smile back. “I blew it with you, Robin. I won’t blow it again.”

  Her smile faltered. “And having sex in bed has something to do with that?”

  “I want to make love to you.” He kissed her neck again. “I want to show you how much I love you.”

  “Will, please—”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Just kiss me.”

  “No.”

  She frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not doing anything other than trying to fix what went wrong. I know exactly what you’re doing.”

  She tensed beneath his body. “Do you? So smart.”

  “You’re pushing me away.”

  She literally pushed him off her. “That’s pushing you away, Will. Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to make more of us than there is? Why can’t we just enjoy each other and not talk about all that other stuff?”

  “Because what happens between us is important. It’s more than sex. You know it as much as I do. I love you, Robin. You have to listen to me.”

  He sat next to her on the bed. She rested her head on her arched knee and looked at him, large green eyes exposing her hope. She was so beautiful, comfortable and sexy in her partial nudity. “I made a mistake by not going after you seven years ago and telling you I was wrong. Look at it from my viewpoint—I saw the M.O., I made a judgment call. I was wrong.”

  “You were wrong about me. I told you—”

  “I know what you told me, and I should have believed you, but I’m a cop, okay? People lie to me all the time.”

  “I’ve never lied to you, Will.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “What kind of question is that? How can you expect me—?”

  “Do you love me? If you’ve never lied to me, answer that question.”

  Her bottom lip quivered and Will almost felt bad for pushing her. “Oh, God, I want to, Will.” Tears formed in her eyes.

  He gathered her back into his arms. “I want you to love me, Robin. More than anything. I’m not going to let you walk away this time. You mean too much to me. My only regret is that I didn’t see it seven years ago. I was too self-absorbed, too scared that I was falling in love and would screw it up again.”

  He brushed back her hair, unable to keep his hands off her. She leaned into his caress. “I gave up the one person who would have made a real difference in my life. The one person who gave me more life, more joy, than anyone else. You’re the first and only woman I’m willing to give up everything for. My job. My friends. My life. I’ll go anywhere to be with you, I’ll do anything to convince you that I want to live my life with you in my bed, at my side, in my heart.

  “Seeing you again after seven years of drought—it brought everything into perspective. Being a cop means nothing to me without you.

  “So I ask you, Robin. Do you love me? Do you love me like I love you?”

  Robin couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. The pain and fear and anguish washed down her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around Will. “I’ve always loved you, Will. From that first night, I’ve loved you.”

  She showered him with kisses. “No more apologies,” she whispered in his ear. “No more what-ifs. I’m not going to run anymore.”

  They were naked in minutes, taking and giving everything they had, joining in the exquisite moment where you know for certain that the person you love loves you the same way.

  After, Will watched Robin sleep. The peace on her face was the same as in his heart. For now, for these quiet hours before dawn, they could forget everything except each other.

  But reality intruded much sooner than Will expected.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Carina was already at the crime scene when Will arrived. She wasn’t handling Jim’s murder well, and Will didn’t blame her. She and Jim had been romantically involved years ago, and they’d remained good friends.

  Nick Thomas, Carina’s fiancé, had driven her to Jim’s house after she got the call. He stood on the periphery, giving Carina space, but knowing just as Will did that she wouldn’t be able to work the case. She was too close to the victim, too emotional. Even the responding officers saw that and kept Carina from walking into the house.

  Will sat in his car several minutes, his head on the steering wheel. What had they done wrong? Had their news conference backfired? Or had Theodore Glenn come out of hiding?

  Nick approached his car and Will got out. “How’s Carina?”

  Nick shook his head. “I didn’t want her to come, but—”

  “She had to see for herself.”

  “Help me take her home.”

  Carina was pacing on the front lawn of Jim’s house. “Finally,” she snapped when she saw Will. “What were you doing? Fucking Robin while Jim was shot to death?”

  “I’m going to forget you said that,” Will said through clenched teeth. “Go home, Carina.”

  “No. I’m working this case. Jim was my friend. I thought he was yours, too.”

  “He is.” Was. “Please, Carina. You’re not going to be any help in this state.”

  “What state is that? That I care? That I want justice? If I see Theodore Glenn I’ll shoot first. That bastard. That bastard!” Tears of rage and anguish coated her eyes. “He killed him in cold blood. For no reason other than the fact that Jim was doing his job!”

  Will put his hands on her shoulders, felt the tension ripple under her skin. “See, Carina? You’ve already gotten it wrong because you’re too close to this case.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “Theodore Glenn didn’t kill Jim. Jim opened the door to his killer. Jim knew the person who shot him.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the crime lab van pull up. “Carina, trust me on this one. Let Nick take you home. I’ll call you and tell you everything.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.” Will nodded at Nick to grab Carina.

  “Let’s go home, Cara.”

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, letting Nick escort her to their car.

  Will strode over to where Stuart Hansen and Bonnie Jamison were pulling equipment out of the van. “What happened?” Both looked stricken.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave. The sheriff is on the way.”

  “The sheriff? Why?”

  “You know the victim.”

  “Is this because of that report on the news? Did Jim know something?”

  “You know protocol. I’m sharing jurisdiction with the Sheriff’s Department. You need to leave.”

  Stu looked like he wanted to argue, but he quickly packed up and he and the junior tech drove away.

  Will took a deep breath before walking up to the front door where two uniformed cops guarded the house. The door was open, Jim’s body on the floor, three bullet holes in his chest. The responding officers had checked for
vitals, but Will himself also checked. He couldn’t believe Jim Gage was dead. They’d worked so many cases together. They hadn’t always been friends, but Will had complete respect for the scientist. No one was better at the job than Jim Gage.

  Gloves on, Will walked the crime scene. Jim’s desk had a half-eaten bowl of soup and near-empty beer bottle on it. The workspace was clear. Would Jim have sat down at his desk to eat dinner? Will doubted it, unless he’d been working on something. Something related to this case.

  Something that a killer didn’t want anyone else to see. Something, maybe, that Jim had called him about earlier.

  I wanted to bounce a couple ideas off you. No rush, call me in the morning.

  Why hadn’t Will called him back? Or stopped by his house? Jim wasn’t even supposed to be working the Anna Clark case. They’d agreed to bury it until Glenn was caught. It was supposed to be business as usual so as not to tip-off Anna’s killer.

  Agent Hans Vigo entered the room. “I’m sorry,” he said. The man looked much older than his fortysome years, weary and gray. “I didn’t think Anna’s killer would come after Jim.”

  “It wasn’t Glenn.” Will stated the obvious.

  Vigo shook his head. “Jim wouldn’t have opened the door to him. I had a message from Jim thirty minutes before he was killed. He had a theory he wanted to run by me.”

  “Same here,” Will said. “He said he’d talk to me in the morning.”

  “His theory died with him.” Vigo looked at the bare desk, frowning.

  “How could this happen? No one—except for Chief Causey, Trinity, and Carina—knew we’d concluded Glenn hadn’t killed Anna. I watched the tape of Trinity’s broadcast several times and she emphatically stated that the case was closed. We didn’t put anything in writing.”

  “We don’t know what Jim may have said or done,” Hans reminded him. “He’d obviously been working on it, since he wanted to talk to both of us. Perhaps he called the wrong person. We need his phone records ASAP: from home, his cell phone, and his desk at the lab.”

  “Jim is responsible. He wouldn’t have let anything leak.”

  “You don’t have to defend him,” Hans said. “I’m not accusing him of anything. Maybe he didn’t say or do anything, it could have been something he didn’t say or do that made our killer suspect something was wrong. We don’t know.”