Killing Fear

the tragic San Quentin earthquake on Saturday where eighty-one people died, including twenty-six prisoners and four guards…”

Robin shut off the television.

“You okay?” Mario asked.

She nodded and resumed her calls. She’d never be truly okay until Glenn was back behind bars.

Or better yet, dead.

Carina caught up with Will in the bull pen. “Just got a call back on the woman in Anaheim, Jenny Olsen, who wrote to Glenn. Remember, we found her car at the library? The Feds paid her a visit. She started by lying, they threatened jail time, she caved. She saw Glenn on Sunday night, late-about eleven thirty p.m. Gave him her car the next morning. Swears he was a perfect gentleman and we obviously had the wrong man.” She rolled her eyes. “The Feds were not amused and arrested her for aiding and abetting a fugitive.”

“Anything else?”

“Mario called. Said Robin shut down the Sin. Paying her staff at least through the weekend.”

Will frowned. “Closed it? Because Glenn’s on the loose?”

“She’s concerned about the safety of her employees and customers.”

It was a smart, responsible move, but it had to have hurt. The Sin was Robin’s business, her livelihood.

Will pulled out the slip of paper he’d written the post office box number on. “It looks familiar,” he explained after bringing Carina up to speed on the e-crimes part of the investigation. “The fact that two corporations affiliated with Glenn have the same post office zip code, I think we need to stake it out.”

Carina opened her file on the case. She flipped through the reports. “Here,” she pointed.

“Same post office that Sara Lorenz uses? Definitely no coincidence.” He called Hans and clued him in. “I’m sending an undercover team over there,” Will said. “And instead of picking her up, I’ll have her followed.”

“People don’t always check their boxes daily,” Hans commented.

“This is the best lead we have so far.”

“I agree. I saw your interview with Trinity. I think it went well.”

“I hope it doesn’t lead Glenn to her doorstep,” Will said.

“You beefed up her protection.”

“I told her to get out of town, but she refused.”

“That’s all you can do.”

“I can put her in prison for her safety,” Will mumbled, with no intention of doing it. “Robin closed the Sin.”

“I thought she would,” Hans said.

“Anything more on Lorenz’s cell phone?”

“We’re tracing the numbers. So far, nothing has panned out.”

An idea came to Will. “Doesn’t the post office require a physical address on file?”

“I’m not sure,” Hans said. “But I can check. I see what you’re getting at, I’ll see if they have any address for Lorenz or the corporations.”

Will hung up and said to Carina, “Where is Sara living if she’s not at the house she owns?”

“Friends? Family?”

“We couldn’t find any family on her. But what if one of these corporations Doug tracked down owns property?”

“You’re a genius,” Carina said.

“I just hope it leads somewhere, because I’m getting nervous.” Will dialed Doug’s line and added to his partner, “Glenn has been quiet for too long. He’s going to make a move. Soon.”

Theodore paced, furious over the pathetic newscast. Trinity Lange put on a good show, but she had done shit to prove he hadn’t killed Anna Clark.

The Feds had looked into the case in two days and ruled that everything was fine? Since when did government bureaucrats work that fast?

And then William called him an animal. Some low-intelligence four-legged nothing. He was something, better than the cops, better than William. Smarter. Tougher. Not limited by conforming to an inane man-made moral structure. He could do anything. He’d BASE jumped off the highest bridge in the world. He’d flown a twin prop in thunderstorms that would have frayed the nerves of the most skilled fighter pilot.

He could do anything. Be anything. Get away with anything.

And they called him an animal!

What about the women he killed? What were they? Oh, that’s right, victims. Didn’t matter that none of them were pure, that they were anything but innocent. But slice a couple of sleazy strippers to death and suddenly they become innocent victims.

Stupid fools. Framing him for Anna’s murder to get him out of the way. Maybe William had done it. Maybe he’d killed Anna, framed Theodore, so he could have Robin all to himself.

Theodore laughed. William didn’t have the balls.

Sara came into the room. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Theodore said. He didn’t elaborate.

“I have-”

A phone rang. Her cell phone. It was a disposable phone, like he’d told her to buy, but still he was suspicious.

She answered it, not taking her eyes from his. “Hello?” She listened. “Oh, are you sure? I understand. When do you think you’ll reopen?” She waited, then said, “I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do, call me, okay?”

Sara put the phone down.

“Who was that?” Theodore demanded. He was too close to have the cops find him now.

“My boss.” She giggled.

He stared at her, self-preservation instincts kicking into high gear.

She continued. “Didn’t you wonder how I learned so much about Robin McKenna?”

He didn’t respond. A cold chill crept up his spine as he realized exactly what Sara meant. “What have you done?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s all fine. I didn’t use this address, I used a P.O. box, different than our corporate address. I have a completely different identity over there, a driver’s license, fake social, everything. I’ve been working at The Eighth Sin over a year, no one suspects-”

He slapped her. “I told you to tell me everything you were doing. You kept this from me! What were you planning to do? Keep me in the dark forever?”

“Pl-please. Listen.” Sara took a deep breath, took a step away from him, her eyes bright with fear.

She continued. “Everything is fine. Just fine. I know her schedule, I know where she lives, I know everything about her. I know that she still sleeps every night with the lights on.”

Theodore stepped toward Sara but said nothing.

“You wanted to scare her, right?” Sara continued, emboldened by his silence. “Well, she’s scared. She closed the Sin tonight. Until further notice. Called everyone and said she was still paying us, but not to come in.”

Theodore walked over to the front window, opened one of the plantation shutters, and stared at the quiet street. Bryce Descario’s house was across the road, three houses down. He could have easily killed him at least three times. The guy had such a predictable routine, it would have been easy. He left between eight and eight fifteen every morning dressed in workout clothes. Returned before ten thirty. Left again at noon in business casual clothes. And so on.

But he didn’t care about killing Descario. The thought didn’t fill him with any emotion, excitement or otherwise. No thrill.

Killing William Hooper? Oh, yes, he felt it. Anticipation crawled up his spine, excitement spreading, giving his mind clarity and purpose. Killing Robin McKenna? He filled with heat, a blaze of intense satisfaction and bliss. As if watching her die would put him on top of the world, he would have the key to the universe.

But together-killing the two lovers together would be the pinnacle of everything Theodore ever wanted. A