Killing Fear

William:

I had an epiphany of sorts. Perhaps it came from realizing that I, the master manipulator, was being manipulated himself. Or perhaps from the realization that we were both duped.

I didn’t kill Anna Clark. I don’t care whether you believe me or not, at least not anymore. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this and now realize where I went wrong. What about you?

Do you know who killed Anna? Do you know why? When you find out, take out an ad. In Spanish. Because by then I’ll be fluent.

By the time you read this, I’ll be in Mexico. I wish I could see your face right now.

I will be back. Tomorrow? The next day? Next year? You won’t know until it’s too late.

I’ve decided, William, who will live and who will die.

Aren’t you dying to know what I’m going to do?

Aren’t you dying to know when I’m going to do it?

“He couldn’t have crossed the border,” Will said.

Hans didn’t say anything.

“Hans, you said it was covered.”

“The border is a big stretch of land. If we can’t keep thousands of people from illegally crossing the border into California, it’s doubly hard to keep track of who’s going south. All Border Patrol agents have his photo and description. They are on high alert here and in Calexico and every point in between, but you know as well as I do that it’s easy to cross the border almost anywhere.”

“He’s lying,” Will said. “He’s lying so we let our guard down. Get complacent.” But even as he said it, he wasn’t sure Glenn was lying. It would fit in with his sick mind to taunt them and disappear.

“He might be lying. Let me call my people and see what I can find out.” Hans left the room.

“Are you okay?” Carina asked.

“Dammit, Carina, he’s playing with us. The letters, the calls.”

“He wants to put you on the edge, to push you into being reckless.”

“I’m going to get him. He’s going back to prison, Carina.”

Or he’s going to be dead.

Crossing the border had been easier than Theodore had planned. He made sure that a camera caught him because he wanted William to know that he had eluded the cops.

Now he sat in a bar in a small village south of Tijuana and planned what to do.

On his way south he’d driven by Robin’s loft. Early, well before the sun rose.

He’d parked several blocks away, in a car that couldn’t be traced to him. When the cops learned about his connection to Sara Lorenz, they may eventually trace her to his phony law corporation and through that discover the truth about his legal payments. The trail was long and deep, it would take them weeks to put it all together, but eventually they would figure it out. By that time, if everything went according to plan, both Robin and William would be dead and Theodore long, long gone.

If he hadn’t needed the safe house that Sara provided, he’d have left days before. Now he couldn’t go back, but that was okay. He had a plan and it was going to work. The anticipation excited him.

He’d pulled out his binoculars and trained them at Robin’s windows. The lights were on. Can’t sleep, Robin? Scared of the boogeyman? Theodore grinned.

You should be scared. You should be very, very afraid.

When she passed by the window, he could only make out her figure, a dark, curvy shadow against the light. But there was no mistaking that body. He adjusted the binoculars, but the light in the loft made it difficult to see her expression. Frustrated, he left.

All the way down to Mexico he’d remembered her in the loft. Seeing her again made him want to control her. Just like he’d controlled her when she stripped onstage. Robin may never have realized it, but she was focused solely on him every time he walked into RJ’s. She loathed him, despised that he slept with half the girls who worked there. Yet she watched him, knew where he sat in the audience, monitored who he flirted with and how well he tipped the other dancers.

Yes, he had always been in control of Robin McKenna whether she admitted it or not. And now, he still controlled her. She’d hired a bodyguard because of him. She closed her business because of him. She couldn’t sleep because of him. William would tell her he’d disappeared in Mexico and she would change her entire life, her routine, because she’d never know when he would return.

He relished his power over her.

Send her a postcard now and again. Tell her he was coming…picture her as she was now, scared and nervous, watching over her shoulder.

If he had more time, he would stay in Mexico for months. Maybe a year. Wait for Robin to relax. Then- pounce.

He wanted to enjoy her squirming beneath his gaze. He wanted to watch her face while he tortured and killed her lover. He wanted to stare into her eyes as she watched the blood drain slowly from William’s body. To hear her beg. To listen to her pleas.

What would she do, what would she say, to save him? Would she finally admit that he controlled her? That he had the power? Theodore would find out soon.

Impatience clawed at him. He looked around the cheap dive Mexican bar he’d staked a seat in after the old folks dropped him off across the border. Too easy.

He drained his beer and motioned for the pretty little chica to bring him another.

His plan was rather brilliant, but he expected nothing less of himself. He just needed a little time for the police to move on to other cases. Crime didn’t stop, and once they proved he’d left the country, they’d have to let it go.

Robin had it in her little mind that she was a big, tough woman, yet she was nothing but a scared, aging stripper whose only power was her body.

When he had Juliet, Romeo would follow.

The Latina babe put the beer in front of him. “Gracias,” he said and smiled.

The girl beamed. She swung her hips seductively as she moved back behind the bar. One of the men glowered at him as he watched the show. Theodore stared back. The man averted his eyes. The chica kept glancing over at Theodore. He winked.

It would be nice to have sex with that hot little chica, no strings attached. Maybe he’d have a place to stay while he secured his money and worked out the details of his plan to kill William and Robin.

He smiled. He was getting away with murder and it felt good.

THIRTY-THREE

The coroner had just gone inside Sara Lorenz’s house, and Will was about to follow, when Hans waved him over. “Glenn is telling the truth. He’s in Mexico.”

“That’s fucked. How?”

“Drove across into Tijuana at eight forty-two this morning.”

“You have the exact time?”

“We have him on camera. He made a point of it.”

“How? Why didn’t they grab him?”

“He was in the back of a car driven by two senior citizens. The Border Patrol agents were specifically looking for a male driver fitting his description, or passenger with a female driver. They don’t have the man power to pull