Killing Fear

that I’m curious about, and I’m compelled to follow up on them.”

“Did he threaten you? Harm you in any way?”

“Julia, he told me about the evidence that was dismissed. I was at the trial, but obviously not privy to sealed information. The only physical evidence that connected Theodore Glenn to those four murders was DNA evidence found on Anna Clark’s body. Without that, all you had was Robin McKenna’s testimony on his sexual relationships with the first three victims and the old woman who saw him coming out of Brandi’s duplex the night of her murder. An old woman with bad eyesight. No weapon was ever found, and no evidence discovered in Glenn’s house.”

“His house was immaculate,” Julia said. “He is obsessively neat and ordered. He’s also very intelligent, with a borderline genius IQ. This creep knows how to clean up after a crime.”

“But there was evidence that was thrown out, correct?”

Julia stared at her, then nodded. “That should tell you that he’s guilty as sin. I watched his interrogation. After Brandi Bell died, Will Hooper interrogated him for hours. What Glenn didn’t say was more important than what he did say. But the truth is, that man is a psychopath. We know he killed Bethany Coleman, as sure as I’m breathing. But we couldn’t use the evidence because of a screwup in the field. The DNA was contaminated. It happens, as much as we hate it-we are all human, mistakes happen. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, knowing that because of that screwup we had nothing to hold him on after Brandi’s murder.”

“Why didn’t you arrest him after Bethany’s murder if you had the evidence, even if it was contaminated? At least interview him?”

“Brandi Bell was murdered two weeks after Bethany. The evidence hadn’t been processed until the eyewitness identification, and that was when the contamination was discovered.” Julia sighed. “We have one of the best labs in the country, but they still can’t process evidence immediately. There’s still a two-to four-week turnaround on most evidence, longer if there’s a big case pending that takes more staff time. You know how it is.”

“Now that’s a story I can run with.”

“What? Attack the people who work their asses off to catch killers?”

“No, about how the government spends billions of dollars on pork and next to nothing on basic services.”

“More power to you if you can get some attention to this problem.”

“So the evidence was thrown out and Will Hooper had to let Glenn go.”

“I’ve worked with Will since I became a D.D.A. and I’ve never seen him so angry or frustrated with the system. But we had physical evidence linking Glenn to the Anna Clark homicide. Irrefutable evidence, as you remember from the trial. His hair in her fist. The bleach he poured over her body didn’t touch her hand, and the evidence was preserved. With the same M.O., Robin McKenna’s testimony, and the known sexual relationships with the first three victims, we had enough evidence to tie Glenn to all four murders. Enough that a jury of twelve people had no reasonable doubt that he was guilty.”

“If the police suspected Glenn after Brandi was murdered, why didn’t they put a tail on him? Jessica was killed four weeks later.”

“You’ll have to ask Will Hooper about what the police did and did not do.” Julia averted her eyes.

“I know what happened, Julia. I just wanted to know what you knew.”

Julia was about to respond when her door burst open and both women jumped. Trinity turned to see Connor Kincaid, a local P.I. who’d been a cop years ago. She’d heard he and Julia were involved.

Right now, Connor looked like he wanted to hit something.

“Frank Sturgeon is dead.” He faced Julia. “No arguments. I’m taking you to a safe house. Far from San Diego.”

FOURTEEN

Will had first sat face-to-face with Theodore Glenn after Brandi Bell’s murder. His partner Frank Sturgeon leaned against the interrogation room wall, glowering.

They’d thought they had a solid case and could keep this twisted killer in prison. Will had also thought he was dealing with the typical, arrogant killer who would talk himself into a confession if Will played him just right.

By the end of the interrogation, Will knew he had a different breed of sociopath on his hands.

Two women were dead and Will faced their killer.

They’d kept Theodore Glenn in lockup overnight. The day before, a witness during the canvass had come forward with a description of a man who had left Brandi Bell’s house early that morning. According to Robin McKenna, the description matched a regular patron of RJ’s, a man who had dated both victims.

Theodore Glenn.

They’d arrested Glenn at his home without incident. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy it. “I’m sure we’ll get this all straightened out soon enough,” he’d told Will.

Now, the bastard was looking at him with idle curiosity. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t talk nervously. He didn’t fume. He looked as crisp and neat as when they’d brought him in the day before.

“What can I do for you?” Glenn asked, a faint smile on his lips.

“You’re a regular at RJ’s, a club in the gaslight district, correct?” Will asked.

He nodded.

“Please speak your answers out loud for the recording, Mr. Glenn.”

“Yes, I go to RJ’s once or twice a week.”

“How long have you been a regular customer?”

“About a year, maybe a little longer.”

“Why?”

“Why do I enjoy going to a strip club?” Glenn raised an eyebrow, smiling.

“When did you first go to RJ’s?” Will asked.

“A colleague of mine had his bachelor party there last year. I thought the dancers were quite talented. And very attractive. Not like some of the clubs in town showing only old, tired women with sagging breasts and no attitude.

“I particularly enjoyed Brandi. She was the head dancer, very gifted. I’m sorry something happened to her.”

Will watched carefully as Glenn put a frown on his face and shook his head back and forth. There was a falseness to Glenn’s actions, as if he were an actor following a script.

“I also enjoy watching Robin McKenna.”

Will kept his expression in check. Why would Glenn mention Robin specifically? To play with him? A tickle of fear crept up his spine. What if this bastard was watching Robin? What if she was his next target?

Had Will been so wrapped up in Robin that his instincts went south?

“Where were you last night?” Will asked.

“With a lady friend of mine.”

“A dancer at RJ’s?”

“No, not last night. A colleague. Ingrid Vanderson.”

“How long?”

“All night.”

“Where?”

“At my home.”

“Do you have contact information for Ms. Vanderson?”

“Of course. It would be in my address book. I believe you took that from my house.”

Too cocky, overly confident. Most innocent men would be protesting. Upset. Especially at having