Killing Fear

“Because you have someone to share your bed and I don’t.”

“Your dry spell will be the death of me,” Carina said. “What happened to Monica?”

“That was over months ago.”

“Nicole?”

“I’m surprised you even know about her. That was before we were partners. We split amicably.”

“What about that cute girl who works for Jim? Maybe you should ask her out.”

“Diana? Cute girl? Last I checked, she was older than you.”

Carina waved her hand in dismissal. “Whatever. I think she likes you.”

“Diana and I had a thing years ago.”

“Hmm. She still has it bad for you. Why, I can’t imagine.”

Will shook his head. “I doubt that. It didn’t work out with Diana. Not all of us get as lucky as you.”

“You’ll get no argument here, but I’m not sharing Nick with you no matter how much you beg.”

Will rolled his eyes and pulled open the cardboard box.

“What’s in there?” Carina asked, pulling her hair back with a metal clip.

“Everything related to the Glenn case. Except the evidence, which is at archives.”

“Why isn’t this in archives? The case was closed seven years ago.”

“I needed it during that appeals court hearing last year. Plus, I expected Glenn to file another appeal, and I wanted to stay fresh.”

“You’re obsessed with that case. Remember? We got the guy.”

It was a generic “we” because Carina had still been a beat cop when Will and his former partner, Frank Sturgeon, had investigated the homicides that led to the arrest of wealthy corporate trial lawyer Theodore Glenn.

“I’m not obsessed.”

He wouldn’t admit it to Carina, but he still dreamed about the murders. He supposed they’d be called nightmares if anyone was going to get technical about it.

Theodore Glenn had enjoyed playing with his victims. Seeing the bodies, knowing what he did to those four women, interviewing Glenn after he’d been locked up-Will continually replayed the investigation in his mind.

It wasn’t just the brutal slayings, or the blood, or Glenn’s sick humor-it was Glenn himself during interrogation.

From petty thieves to hardened murderers, most criminals lied or cast blame elsewhere: “It’s not my fault,” “She wanted it,” or “I didn’t mean to kill her, it got out of hand, it was an accident.”

Theodore Glenn had not one ounce of remorse. Not one grain of empathy. He’d looked at the crime scene photos with the interest of a bored scientist. He had even criticized the way the crime scene technician had photographed the scene.

“The lighting is awful. Had she only increased the aperture, you’d be able to see the definition of the blood against the rug. You call this evidence?”

Will had faced many brutal killers. He’d faced psychopaths. He’d faced gang leaders who would just as soon shoot a cop as talk to one.

But Theodore Glenn was no typical killer. He had a picture-perfect background. Upper middle class upbringing. No hint of violence in his childhood. After interviewing his parents, Will couldn’t even imagine them so much as spanking their beloved son. Was that the problem: lack of discipline? Too much and it’s abuse, too little and your bratty kid runs wild.

It was human nature to cast blame, to search for a specific reason why someone like Theodore Glenn killed. But the truth was simple: He had no conscience. Will saw it in his face, in his tone, in his arrogance. This bastard killed because he enjoyed it, because he enjoyed getting away with deviant acts. Was it just for the thrill? Maybe. Will wasn’t a shrink, but he knew Glenn wasn’t like most killers.

Something else about the Glenn murders haunted him.

Robin.

Out of self-preservation, Will didn’t like to think about Robin McKenna. Even bringing her to mind now brought conflicting feelings of love and lust, anger and remorse, fear and need. He had made huge mistakes with her-on the case, in his life.

Now he had to warn her. He’d never wanted to see her again, and at the same time he desperately wanted to make love to her. Hold her. Be with her.

He ran a hand through his short-cropped brown hair.

“What’s wrong?” Carina asked as she efficiently separated the files.

“Nothing.”

“Hooper, I’ve known you for how long?”

“Seriously, just the past creeping up on me.”

“We’re going to catch Glenn. Every cop in the state is looking for him.”

“How many people will die first?” Will tensed. Glenn would go after Robin. Will had to protect her. The thought that she might suffer at Glenn’s hands caused sweat to break out on his forehead.

Protect her? He’d be lucky if she let him through her door. Robin had made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing to do with him. Not that he blamed her, not after what he’d said and done.

Chief Causey walked in, poured a cup of coffee. “You’re on, Hooper. Now make it fast. I got the press breathing down my throat, Descario screaming about protection, and the Feds calling.”

“The Feds?”

“The California Highway Patrol are working with the FBI’s San Francisco regional office. They have huge issues up north-a severely damaged bridge, power out-ages, looting. The usual loonies running amok after a major natural disaster. They’ve offered to loan a Suit to us to facilitate communication and share resources.”

“Whatever you think best,” Will responded. “It might be helpful to have an insider, as long as we don’t get the shaft.”

“I’ll feel them out, see what’s happening, and let you know.”

Carrying his box of photos and information, Will led the way into the interview room he’d turned into the task-force command center. He wanted to make sure that everyone working the case knew exactly what Theodore Glenn had done to those women.

There were four cops in the room who Causey had dedicated to Will for the time being. In an hour, Will would be speaking at shift change, but for now these were the three men and one woman who, apart from himself and Carina, would be working exclusively on the Theodore Glenn case.

“We have a lot of work to do in the next twenty-four hours,” Will began. He glanced at Officer Diaz. “You’ve contacted everyone involved with the Glenn prosecution? Witnesses?”

“Still working on the list, sir. I reached about half of them last night.”

Will wanted to ask if he’d talked to Robin, but refrained, trusting that Diaz would do a thorough job.

“Keep going. Give me a list of everyone you haven’t spoken to personally before end of shift.”

“Yes, sir.”

Will looked around the room. Other than Diaz and Carina, no one else had been on the force seven years ago when Glenn was at large.

“A little background on Theodore Glenn. Seven years ago he killed four strippers who worked at RJ’s in the gaslight district. The club is no longer there. It was bought out and renovated during the big redevelopment push a few years back. Glenn had been a regular at RJ’s for about a year. He had dated at least three of the victims.”

Will took out crime scene photographs and placed them on the whiteboard with magnets. First an enlarged snapshot of a gorgeous young woman. She was twenty, blonde, and had a dazzling smile.

“Bethany Coleman was Glenn’s first victim. She dated Glenn for three months before, according to witnesses, they parted friends.” He put up a picture of her dead body. Glenn had cut her skin more than forty times, feet to face, one-to two-inch-long shallow cuts that would have scarred and defaced her. Painful, but not fatal. When he’d finally tired of torturing Bethany, he’d slit her throat.

“Was Glenn a suspect from the beginning?”

“Way down on the list. Bethany had seven former boyfriends the year before she was murdered, and Glenn hadn’t been the most recent. There was some evidence at the scene and it was being processed by the crime lab when Brandi Bell was murdered fourteen days after Bethany.”