Killing Fear

Something “smart” that she’d insist would be “just fine.” The bitch was crazy to play games with a master.

He noted all the accounts, but left them alone. If the Feds had figured any of this out, he didn’t want to alert them. He’d only have one chance to transfer the funds, and he had to make sure he had a clean account for the money to go into, an account he controlled and not Sara Lorenz.

Not that it would matter when she was dead.

He’d get the plans out of that bitch before he killed her. Take that to the bank.

TWENTY-NINE

“I can’t believe we’ve hit another dead end!”

Will slammed his fist on his desk. They were so close-they had Sara’s cell phone, two of her fake identities, the names of the two major corporations Theodore Glenn was using to funnel money, the P.O. boxes, and now nothing.

His phone rang and he snatched it up. “Hooper,” he snapped.

“Detective Hooper?” The voice was suspicious.

“Yes?”

“This is Brian Varadian with San Diego Bank and Trust. You spoke with my manager this morning about a corporate account.”

Will grabbed his notes. “Right, North Bay Law Offices.”

“I cannot give you any information without a warrant, you understand.”

“I have a warrant.” Or he would and made a note to call the D.A., Andrew Stanton.

“Then perhaps we can meet at the bank tomorrow morning?”

“How about now?” He glanced at the clock. Eight at night.

“The bank is closed, and the doors are on a time lock. No one can enter before eight a.m.”

“Eight tomorrow morning. I want everything-every transfer, deposit, withdrawal, safe-deposit boxes, whatever you have.”

“As long as it is specified in the warrant, I’ll give you what you need.”

Will hung up and called Stanton. The D.A. said he’d have the warrant ready.

“Okay, maybe we do have a break,” Will said. “Twelve hours, and perhaps we can figure out exactly where Glenn is hiding.”

“How do you figure that?” Carina asked.

“If the account is paying any bills, maybe a mortgage or property taxes, there’ll be some correlation between the payment and an address or account number,” Will said. “We’re close,” he said. “I feel it.”

Theodore wrote all account numbers in a small notepad, then destroyed the computer.

He could have been comfortable here in San Diego if he wasn’t a wanted man. A spread in France or Switzerland, or perhaps Argentina, would have to do for a time. He had several identities to choose from, but he could no longer trust Sara. As soon as he was settled, he’d create his own identity.

He hadn’t thought that running would hold excitement for him, but he felt that familiar surge of anticipation at the thought of eluding the police. It would eat at William Hooper.

That is if Theodore decided the cop would be more tortured living than dying.

Sara walked into the den and stared at the computer which lay in pieces all over the room. “What did you do?”

“What did you do, Sara?”

He stepped toward her.

She stepped backward. Good, she was scared. She should be.

“I don’t know what you mean, Teddy.”

“My name is Theodore.”

“I-you liked-”

“I humored you when I thought you were helping. Now I find out that you’ve been stealing from me.”

“No! That’s not true. I would never-I love you, Teddy!”

In two long strides he had her by the arms. He shook her, her head flopped back and forth. “You funneled money from my personal account into the law office account, then moved it all over the world. Millions of dollars.”

“So that wherever we go we’ll have money!” she pleaded.

“Or so you could run away without me.”

“No! No, no, that’s not it at all. Listen to me, please.”

“I’m listening.”

She nodded, brown eyes wide and full of fear and hope. “I knew as soon as you escaped that the cops would freeze your account. If all the money was gone, there’d be nothing to freeze, right? And by the time they figured it out, we’d have already transferred the money to other accounts. See? See how smart it was?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth! I swear, I was thinking about you.”

“You were thinking about yourself. That was my money and I told you exactly what to do. You aren’t smart enough to come up with your own ideas. You’re mine, and now I don’t want you.”

He grabbed her hair and held it tight, pulling her up the stairs. She stumbled, screamed, but he didn’t stop. He dragged her by her hair the last ten feet to the master bedroom, kicked her in the kidneys, and slammed the door shut.

“Teddy, please, I only-”

“Shut up!” He kicked her again. “I taught you how to hide money. I gave you access to my accounts. I trusted you, Sara, and you betrayed me.”

“I didn’t-”

He opened the nightstand where he had earlier put a knife-a sharp butcher knife from the kitchen. Without hesitation, he sliced her thigh. It was only a hair deep, but the cut stung. Sara screamed, tried to get up, but Theodore knocked her back down.

He grabbed her and tossed her on the bed. He sat on her, his left hand over her mouth, the knife in his right. She lay paralyzed with fear and he stared into her eyes. She looked back. When she saw her fate in his face, she started fighting.

He slammed the knife into her chest, over and over, a rage he’d never felt quite like this overtaking him. The surge of emotion, of adrenaline, seemed to stop time as he cut her chest open. She stopped fighting almost immediately, but he still sliced her, unable to stop.

Suddenly, he pushed himself off her, the knife still in his hands. The woman who had been Sara Lorenz was almost unrecognizable. He stabbed the knife into the blood-soaked mattress and walked to the bathroom where he showered in hot water.

He felt a million times better when he stepped out. He dressed, passing Sara’s dead body without a glance.

Time to leave the country.

But he’d be back.

“Sooner,” he said out loud, “than you think.”

THIRTY