Killing Fear

by Allison Brennan

Before she knew it she was inside Will’s place.

  The last time she’d been here was the day he asked her for the second time if she had been sexually involved with Theodore Glenn. She’d walked out right after that, never to look back except in her dreams.

  The house was the same, for the most part. A few pieces of furniture looked new, but he still had the barely worn white Berber carpeting. One thing that drew her eye was a familiar painting hanging on the main living room wall.

  It was one of hers, a piece Isabelle had sold over a year ago.

  A rush of emotion filled her. For a split second, warmth and love strengthened her.

  She would survive. She had to, not only for Will but herself. To keep the rare love they had alive and burning.

  Glenn slammed the door shut, bolted it.

  “We’re home, Robin.”

  She struggled against the duct tape. He removed it in one pull and she gasped from the pain.

  “I saw you fuck him right here.” He pulled her through the living room, past her painting, to the small dining table next to the kitchen. “I stood on his patio and watched. You couldn’t see me because it was dark. That night I killed Jessica. That night I imagined killing you.”

  She swallowed uneasily. She remembered that night with Will. They’d been desperate lovers, so needy for each other. They hadn’t waited to go upstairs. The clothes came off and they made love on the table.

  It made her physically ill to know that her sexual relationship with Will had been observed and exploited. Glenn had watched them here, at the bar, where else? How could she have been so blind to his obsession before?

  “You couldn’t get off on your own, you had to watch other people having sex?” she spat out, bracing for a blow.

  Instead he laughed. “You like to perform. You knew all along I was there.”

  “Like hell I did!”

  “You fucked him for me.”

  “I love Will.”

  Glenn’s face reddened, and he said in a low growl, “Really. That’s why you’ve had such a successful relationship for the last seven years. Remember, I had a spy on you. But I know Will is obsessed with you.”

  “You’re the obsessed freak.”

  “I would have gotten away with all of it if someone hadn’t fucked up that crime scene.”

  “What?”

  “You identified me off that sketch, all because you didn’t like me,” he said, angry.

  “It was you.”

  “But the cops had nothing on me,” he said as if she hadn’t spoke. “Nothing. The evidence was thrown out after I killed Bethany, and there was nothing to tie me to Brandi or Jessica.”

  “Except someone caught you leaving Brandi’s house!”

  “That was your lies. And I had an alibi for Jessica.”

  “A drunk cop who fell asleep. You took the damn picture!”

  He laughed, played with the knife in his hands. “But I didn’t kill Anna. Someone planted evidence after killing her. And that is what sent me to prison. I should never have been convicted. My plan was brilliant. Perfect. They’d never have caught me.”

  She shook her head. “All this because I wouldn’t sleep with you?”

  He backhanded her so fast she didn’t realize it until she was on the floor, tasting blood in her mouth.

  “You thought you were better than me. I would have made you a queen. I would have taken you out of that pathetic strip joint and made you somebody. But you would rather flirt with seventy-year-old drunks than a young, virile man like me.”

  “I’d rather flirt with anyone than a twisted fuck like you.”

  She pulled herself onto her knees, shook her head to get rid of the ringing.

  “You think you’re so smart. Bethany thought you were—and I quote—‘a total bitch’ because you told her she shouldn’t be sleeping with customers. And Brandi was jealous—she wanted your body, your hair, your attitude so badly. She wanted to be you.”

  “You’re wrong.” Robin pulled herself up and leaned against the kitchen counter.

  “She was six years older than you, already on the downswing. She wanted me because I made her feel young and sexy. You should have seen her face when I tied her up. At first she thought it was just another sex game and she got excited. Until I carved into her tits. She was the first I used bleach on. Do you know what it feels like when bleach is poured on an open wound?”

  Robin couldn’t help but picture Brandi lying tied to her bed, bleach poured over fresh wounds. She shuddered uncontrollably.

  Glenn opened his bag and Robin jumped, swaying. Tried to run, but her head felt thick. He easily grabbed her, yanked her arm toward him and made a shallow two-inch cut on her forearm. She screamed out. He held her arm while he pulled out a small jug of bleach, pushed down on the cap, twisted, and it popped off.

  “Feel for yourself, Robin.”

  She screamed when the caustic liquid hit her open wound. Glenn grabbed her mouth and held tight. She bit him, tears streaming down her face from the pain. He didn’t let go.

  “You thought you were better than me. That you could get rid of me. Never, Robin. From the moment I saw you, we had a bond. I would have been the best lover you ever had. I would have taken care of you. I’m rich, Robin, and I was rich then. Still, you shunned me. For what? A loser cop?”

  Slowly, she breathed in through her nose as the pain dissipated.

  “I’d have preferred to have William watch me fuck you then kill you, but he’ll have to live vicariously. I’ll make a tape.”

  He pulled out a digital video camera from his bag. He placed it on the table and brought her over to the living room—only feet from the front door.

  That was his plan all along. To kill her where Will would walk in and find her. Right here, in his house. Romeo finding Juliet.

  She couldn’t let it happen like this. If Glenn was going to kill her, she had to find a way to get out of Will’s house. She didn’t want him to be tormented by her murder for the rest of his life, like she’d suffered after Anna died.

  Only worse. Because Will loved her.

  She glanced at her painting that hung on Will’s wall. It was a beach scene, one of her favorite to paint. Vivid shades of blue and green, rolling waves, a bright sky, and a couple holding hands in the heat of the afternoon. It reminded her that what had been lost was now found. He’d chosen one of her favorites.

  She didn’t want her blood on that painting. It may be the only thing Will had to remember her by.

  “For seven years I’ve been planning how to make you pay for your testimony, Robin. You pulled my name out of thin air after seeing that worthless sketch. If anyone should be dead, it should be you. I should have killed you when I had the chance: in the bar when you and William went at it like a couple of rabbits. Is that what turns you on? Sex in public?”

  Glenn restrained Robin by wrapping her wrists together with duct tape, then using a rope to tie her wrists to the coat closet doorknob.

  She kicked at him, barely made contact, and he laughed.

  “I hear you’re scared of the dark, Robin.” He flipped off the entry light and they were plummeted into darkness.

  She screamed until another piece of tape was stuck to her mouth.

  “All you needed to do was come home with me.”

  Her shirt tore, and a sharp pain crossed her body from her navel to her breast. She couldn’t scream, but her back convulsed in pain and her legs scrambled. She pulled herself up, but with her arms tied to the door she was stuck.

  “All you had to do was let me fuck you. You would have liked it. Brandi used to beg me for more. She couldn’t get enough. She was devastated when I broke up with her. But you knew that, didn’t you? Your friends told you everything. Did Brandi tell you how she liked being tied up and spanked? Did Bethany tell you how she liked it from behind? Did Jessica tell you how we had sex in your apartment when she was on break? Anna had given her the key.”

  Robin tried to ignore Glenn. He wanted to t
orment her emotionally. The pain across her midriff stung, but began to subside.

  “The only thing I regret was not videotaping my kills. My mistake. I won’t make it again.”

  He put the camera on her face, the video flash almost blinding her. “That’s good. Show me your fear, Robin. Show me your pain.”

  He poured bleach over her new cut and her body convulsed, moving as far away from him as she could. Tears streamed down her face.

  She felt the duct tape slip. Just a fraction. She had hope. Maybe her sweat was loosening it, or the rope was cutting into it, or both. Something was giving, and in the dark Theodore might not notice.

  She twisted her wrists together, felt the tape slip a little more.

  Glenn set the camera up to one side, the light on her body, not her face. He stood and seemed to be pacing, but she couldn’t see him. Then his voice came from halfway across the room. “I wanted to take you. For me. All me. When I fucked Sara, I pictured you. I put her dress over her head and it was you. When I fucked Brandi, it was you. Always you. You wouldn’t get out of my head. You’d bewitched me, I couldn’t stop seeing you and I hate you for that. I couldn’t stop coming to RJ’s. And then you spurned me. Treated me like I was some substandard pervert while you were ripping your clothes off for horny men who jerked off in the bathroom thinking about you!”

  His voice grew closer, louder, and he kicked her in the thigh. She sucked air in through her nose, a mewling noise escaping from her throat.

  “The whore in Mexico, I thought of you. I fucked her hard and wanted to choke her to death because of you. I hate you. I hate you for forcing me to take chances. If it weren’t for you, I would be halfway across Mexico by now. If you would just get out of my head, I’d finally be free!”

  Robin yanked one raw wrist out of the makeshift restraints as Theodore’s shoe connected with her stomach. The wind was knocked out of her and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Then he was on top of her and whispered in her ear, “When I killed Bethany, I told her it was because of you. When I killed Brandi, I told her you were fucking the detective in charge. That it was because of you that she had to die. Because you treated me like scum. When I am the smartest person you have ever met.”

  Robin’s other wrist slipped free. She clasped her hands together, pulled them back like she was holding a baseball bat, and as hard as she could swung her fists into the side of his head.

  She won that round through the element of surprise.

  Run, Robin!

  He grunted, shifted just enough that she could slide away.

  A weapon. Where did he put his knife? That bag of his. On the table. It was closer than the kitchen.

  She scrambled to her knees and crawled. Her hand brushed against the bottle of bleach.

  “Bitch, I’ll slice your throat—”

  She pulled herself up the wall, bottle in one hand. She moved to the right, toward him—hoping he’d think she was still moving toward the kitchen. The video camera light was aimed on the other side of the room, making this side even darker in the shadows.

  She hit the light switch, blinking in the brightness, startling Glenn enough for her to splash bleach at him. He couldn’t get his arms up fast enough to block most of the cleanser from hitting his face.

  He screamed and paused only momentarily, blocking the front door. She ran toward the back, ripping the duct tape off her mouth so she could scream.

  He was right behind her.

  Will didn’t wait for backup.

  It was him and Blade. The rest of SWAT was less than five minutes behind, but five minutes was the difference between life and death.

  His house was dark, a faint, foreign light filtering through the closed blinds. What was that?

  But other than the light, he could see nothing unusual about his place. Had he been wrong? Had Glenn deliberately tricked him? Had he wasted precious time by coming here first?

  Suddenly, the interior lights went on. He heard a deep, guttural cry—a man?—then, as his hands were on the doorknob, a piercing female scream.

  Gun out, Blade at his back, Will kicked open his own door and went low and to the right. Glenn had a knife in his hand and was about to throw it at Robin’s back as she ran toward the rear of the town house.

  “Down!” he yelled.

  Robin dropped to the floor at the same time that Glenn spun around and aimed the knife at Will. He and Blade fired simultaneously.

  One bullet hit Glenn in the arm, but he’d anticipated the gunshots and dove behind Will’s couch.

  Did Glenn have a gun?

  “Robin! Stay down!”

  She crawled in the kitchen, behind the counter. As long as she didn’t move, Glenn couldn’t see her, Will hoped.

  Robin didn’t say anything.

  Will looked around and saw the blood in the foyer, bloody handprints on the white walls. The smell of bleach permeated the room.

  How far had Glenn gone? How much blood had Robin lost?

  If Will went for Robin, Glenn could kill him—either by shooting him, or throwing a knife.

  Blade was behind a table he’d flipped on the right; Will was in the narrow hall off the foyer that led to his upstairs. He could see the couch Glenn hid behind, but he couldn’t see the kitchen.

  Could Glenn see Robin?

  “Come out with your hands up!” Will shouted.

  The low voice of laughter made Will’s blood run cold.

  “Not exactly how I planned it,” Glenn said, “but she’s still dead.”

  Will’s ears buzzed.

  “Will!”

  He heard Robin from the kitchen. She sounded strained, but she was alive. Alive, not dead. Glenn had wanted him to react, to do something rash.

  “You’re not going to leave alive unless you throw your weapons out and stand up, hands behind your head.”

  “She is dying, Will. I sliced her from her navel to her breast. She’s bleeding to death. I can sit behind here all night long. By the time you have the courage to come for me, precious Juliet will be dead in a pool of blood on your kitchen floor.”

  “Don’t, Will,” Robin called from the kitchen. “Don’t listen to him. He’ll kill you.”

  She didn’t sound herself, but that could be from fear.

  Will stared at the bloody handprints. So much blood. Too much.

  Robin was alive now, but for how long?

  He glanced at Blade. Held up his fingers. On three, cover me.

  Blade nodded.

  One.

  Will glanced around the corner. A small spatter of blood was next to the couch where his bullet had hit Glenn in the arm.

  Two.

  He pictured the layout of his kitchen, the likely place Robin would hide—behind the center island. It was a solid block of wood.

  Three.

  Blade fired rapidly over the table while Will rounded the corner and skirted along the wall toward the kitchen.

  A hand with a knife came over the top of the couch aimed right toward him.

  From Will’s left, gunfire. He jumped, turned his gun toward the sound.

  Robin, white as a ghost, leaned against the wall, firing directly behind the couch, emptying the .45 into Glenn who still cowered there.

  The knife fell.

  Robin slid slowly down the wall. Will quickly glanced at Glenn—he was dead, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

  “Blade!” Will shouted and motioned toward Glenn’s body.

  He holstered his own gun and knelt at Robin’s side, gently resting her body on the carpet.

  She struggled to get the words out. “Is he—”

  “He’s dead.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Robin, don’t go to sleep.”

  “I’m okay.”

  He almost laughed. “You’re not okay.” Glenn hadn’t been lying when he said he’d cut her chest. Blood seeped from the red wound
, but it was her arm that he was worried about. Blood rapidly flowed from a two-inch cut on her arm.

  He tore off his shirt and wrapped it tight around her forearm, then pulled his T-shirt over his head and applied pressure to her chest.

  A siren sounded in the distance.

  Blade came over. “He’s dead, Hooper.”

  “Damn straight,” Robin muttered. “I didn’t practice at the range every week to miss.”

  “This doesn’t look like your gun,” Will said.

  “He left it on the table.” Robin’s voice was weak.

  “Ambulance?” Will asked Blade.

  “On the way.”

  Robin’s face was cut and bruised, blood coming from her mouth and one ear. She was having a difficult time breathing.

  “Hang in there, Robin.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said faintly.

  “You’d better not.”

  “You bought my picture.”

  At first Will didn’t know what she meant. Her left hand vaguely pointed toward his living room wall. He looked, saw the beach scene he’d bought last year after hearing her work was available at the gallery.

  “I thought it would look nice in my place.” That wasn’t the total truth. “I missed you, Robin. Looking at it every day reminded me of you.”

  “I love you, Will.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Two weeks later

  Will watched Robin closely to make sure she didn’t overdo it. He hadn’t wanted to come to the wedding—Robin had only been out of the hospital for a couple days—but she’d insisted.

  “Carina is your best friend. You can’t miss her wedding.”

  By the look on Robin’s face, the formal Catholic ceremony had been lovely. Will didn’t pay much attention to it, watching Robin for signs of fatigue.

  “Stop it,” she said as they walked into the reception at the Kincaid family house an hour later.

  “You want to go home?”

  “No. Stop treating me like I’m about to break. I’m okay, Will. I’ll let you know if I need to go home, I promise.”

  He relaxed. Some. “If you promise.”

  He’d almost lost her. Again. She’d lost so much blood after the showdown with Glenn.