Killing Fear

“How about some water? Wine?”

She shook her head. “I have some tequila in the cabinet next to the refrigerator.”

“I’ll get it,” Mario said from his perch next to the door. She’d felt like such a fool when he burst into her loft, cracking the doorjamb. She hadn’t been able to answer his shout from the hall. She’d called 911, then slid down to the floor, her chest tight. The simple act of breathing had been a chore.

You’re not helpless, Robin! Why are you acting like such a stupid, weak girl?

She swallowed, gathering her strength, her eyes on Will. “I-”

“Why didn’t you call me? I got the call from dispatch. I didn’t know-you didn’t even tell Mario. What’s the use of having a bodyguard if you don’t tell him when Glenn contacts you?”

She looked down at her hands, which were clenched in front of her, knowing she’d allowed her fear to get the best of her after she’d read the letter from Theodore.

Will knelt in front of her, took her tight fists in his hands. “Robin, I’m sorry for yelling. But listen to me. Look at me.”

She did, her breath catching in her lungs. “Will-” She swallowed. “I just didn’t expect it. I’m not as strong as you think I am.”

“Like hell you aren’t. You’re stronger. God, Robin, you’re the strongest woman I know. Down here”-he hit his chest-“where it matters. Who wouldn’t crack under Glenn’s scrutiny? Who wouldn’t be scared when a sociopathic killer has them in their sights? If you weren’t scared, then I’d worry.”

There was a knock on the door, and Mario looked through the peephole, then let in a forty-something man Robin had never met. He was shorter than Will, a tad on the pudgy side, but with a warm, handsome face and sparkling pale blue eyes framed with crow’s-feet. Attractive, in a comfortable, best friend sort of way.

Will nodded at the stranger. “Robin, this is FBI Special Agent Hans Vigo. He’s out of Quantico and helping us on this.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. McKenna,” Hans said, taking her hand.

She gave him a half smile.

“I called him after speaking with Mario. He’s a criminal profiler with the Feds, someone who probably understands Theodore Glenn better than anyone.”

“I don’t know about that,” Hans said. “Will had him pegged early on. But I’ll help in any way I can, and right now, we need to brainstorm and try and predict his next move.”

“Which means we need your help, Robin.”

She blanched. “Me?”

She felt trapped like a bug caught in a spider’s web, waiting, waiting, waiting for the spider to cross the web and swallow her, kicking and screaming. Devour her alive…

Then she looked at Will and drew in his strength. This was a man she could count on.

A man who’d also thought the worst of her.

But he’d always been there when she really needed him.

Except that one time.

“Ms. McKenna,” Hans Vigo said, “let’s sit down.”

She nodded and sat on the couch. Will sat next to her, his leg touching hers. Mario put a bottle of tequila on the coffee table with a glass, but she didn’t touch it. She was surprisingly calm.

Vigo sat on the love seat across from them, leaning forward. He put a letter on the table, obviously a photocopy, turned it so she could read it.

The letter looked exactly like the letter she received from Glenn. Except it was addressed to “William.”

She looked at Will, panic rising. “What happened?”

“He delivered a package to me as well.”

She read the letter to Will, hands shaking. She read it twice, three times. The only time you were really scared was when you thought Robin was dead.

I will kill her.

I may leave for a while. Or not.

Hans said, “He’s trying to scare you both. Threatening Will with your death, threatening you with Will’s death.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice a squeak. She cleared her throat. “Dammit, why? Why does he care? Will and I are long in the past. It’s over and-” she stopped. What was she saying? She glanced around the room. Two cops and Mario, discreetly trying not to look at her.

Oh, God, what was she doing?

“Robin,” Will said quietly. “Robin, look at me.”

She did, lips trembling. She took a deep breath, calmer.

“I told Hans about us. He’s heard the conversation you recorded.”

“It’s not about me,” she whispered, closing her eyes, knowing she was lying as the words came out.

“Robin, don’t.”

She breathed deeply. “God, Will, they died because of me.”

“They died because of him.”

She shook her head. “You heard him. On the phone. Th-the letter. I-why? If only-”

“Stop!” He squeezed her hands. “Robin, stop it. Glenn is a sociopath. He enjoys hurting you. Emotionally torturing you. He wants you to feel guilty. It’s part of his game, to make you so scared you’ll do something stupid. You’re anything but stupid, Robin.”

“Why me?” She glanced from Will to the FBI agent. “Why me? You’re a criminal profiler, why does he want to hurt me? I never did anything to him.”

Hans answered. “You didn’t jump when he said jump. You didn’t do what he expected you to do. Somehow, you saw him for exactly who he is. That both scared him and excited him. He may have thought that initially he’d found a soul mate, someone as cold and calculating as he is. Later, he realized you simply didn’t like him; perhaps acted superior to him. That angered him, because he’s used to getting what he wants. Manipulating people. His parents. His sister. At work, friends, colleagues. But he couldn’t get to you. You didn’t react to him.”

“So it is my fault!”

“No!” Will exclaimed. “Dammit, Robin, if you think anyone other than Theodore Glenn is to blame, you’re letting him win.”

“He knows where I live. Why didn’t he kill me earlier?”

“He couldn’t get to you. You hired security, you have an alarm system, and we had cops out front,” Will said. “It would have been suicide for him, and he doesn’t want to die without-” He cut himself off.

“Without what?”

“Finishing everything he started.”

“Exactly,” Hans said, “and that may be his Achilles’ heel.”

“Pardon me?” Will asked.

“He’s not going to be reckless, which actually plays into our favor,” Hans said.

“Why send the letters?” Robin asked. “Why try to scare me?”

“Because he wants you to act recklessly.”

“He’s watching me,” Robin said. She glanced at Will, almost embarrassed to tell him, but said nonetheless, “He wrote to me from prison.”

Will was furious. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you file a complaint?”

“I burned all the letters,” she said. “After the first one, I knew they were from him. He wanted to keep me scared so I didn’t read them.” She glanced down. “But I had nightmares after every letter arrived.”

“He sent them here?” Hans asked.

“No, to the club. It’s no secret that I own it, he could have found the address online.”

“But this letter”-Hans held it up-“was delivered here.”

She nodded. “But there’s no postal mark on it. No stamp. He brought it by, put it in my mailbox.”

“Shit,” Will muttered.

Hans said, “I think it’s clear that you both are the primary target of this killer-you and Will. The way I see it, we have two options. Either you can go into federal protection, or you can help catch him.”

“No,” Will said. “Robin isn’t going to be bait.”