Killing Fear pb-1

by Allison Brennan

  Robin absorbed the information. “Me? Why? I never did anything to her.”

  “I always prided myself on being discreet in my relationships, but with you-God, Robin, I thought about you all the time. Frank knew about our relationship and he had a big mouth. Dillon Kincaid, a forensic psychiatrist we consulted in this case, believes Diana had a fixation on me, and when I left her to focus on the job in her mind that was acceptable. Then I started seeing you. She viewed all women as inferior. But us, together, seemed to set her off.”

  “Did she-did she tell you this?”

  “No, but her interview was convoluted. She was on the verge of confessing when she lawyered up. I have to tell you, Robin, they’re going to cut a deal with her. We have her on Jim’s murder-she used a gun she’d processed earlier this week in a gang shooting, and there’s trace evidence that the Sheriff’s Department will likely be able to tie to her. They are going to send some people to search her house in the morning-we felt it would be cleaner if they served the warrant.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “They’re not going to try her for Anna’s murder.”

  “I don’t understand,” Robin said slowly.

  “The D.A. is going to offer her a deal-she confesses to Jim Gage’s murder, waives her right to trial, and she’ll be given life without parole in a federal penitentiary. Agent Vigo is working out the details on that right now. It’s tricky, but they think they can cut it.”

  “Why is it tricky?”

  “If we bring her to trial for Anna’s murder, every case she ever processed will be under scrutiny. Hundreds of violent predators will file an appeal, and many will win. She planted evidence. We don’t have the time or resources to fight all those cases. But if we can keep it in-house, have her plead out, seal the records, we won’t face such an onslaught.”

  Robin didn’t know what to say. Intellectually, it made sense, but emotionally she wanted justice for Anna.

  “There’re some huge political considerations…”

  “Politics?” Robin slid away from Will, rolled over and faced him. “She’s getting away with Anna’s murder because of politics?”

  “She’s not getting away with anything. Please try to understand. Don’t you see that every single one of her cases is going to be called into question? Hundreds of convicted criminals-murderers, child molesters-are going to claim they were framed or that the evidence was tainted because she handled it. We may already have that problem, but the D.A. is working an agreement with the Feds to review all case evidence that Diana Cresson handled. We need time. None of us believe that she contaminated any other crime scenes-Anna’s murder was personal. But try telling that to a jury.”

  “It’s not fair.” Robin’s bottom lip trembled. Will touched it with his thumb.

  “You’re right. None of this is fair. I wish I had a better answer for you. I wish that bastard Glenn was in prison. I wish I had seen Diana for what she was years ago. I wish I had figured it out before Jim ended up dead.”

  She reached for him, rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve done everything you can.”

  Robin wished Anna could be avenged, that her killer would go to prison for killing her. But she would be satisfied that Diana Cresson went to prison, period. At least she knew what really happened. That would have to do.

  Will pulled her back to him, flesh against flesh. “When you walked out, I tried to replace you, but you are irreplaceable. I was miserable and didn’t know it until I saw you again, saw what I had so callously tossed aside. I didn’t know what we had until it was gone, Robin.”

  “And we have it back.” She kissed him.

  “God, yes.” He kissed her again, his hands fisting in her tangled hair. “Yes, Robin, we have it back, in spades.”

  “I love you so much, Will Hooper. And we’ll get through this. I promise.”

  “I should be saying that to you.”

  “You have. In words and deeds.” She cuddled into his chest. “You need sleep.”

  He rolled over on top of her. “I want you more.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Will met with the Sheriff’s Department personnel at Diana Cresson’s house Saturday morning in Lemon Grove, a suburb of San Diego. He was observing only. Hans was supposed to meet him there, but he was a no-show and didn’t answer his phone.

  Chief Causey, however, arrived along with the assistant sheriff. These two murders-Anna Clark’s and Jim Gage’s-had the potential to seriously damage the department. “If I can suggest, sir,” Will said, “use Trinity Lange to defuse the situation. Give her something good. Like a confession on the Gage homicide. We don’t have to discuss the Anna Clark murder-those are wild accusations by an escaped convict who killed a mother, a guard, and a retired cop.”

  “Stanton is going to work the media,” Causey said, “but I know you owe that reporter a bone. I’ll talk to the D.A. about it.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  A sheriff’s criminalist came out of the house with a bag. He approached the three of them, speaking to his supervisor. “We found a box of case files that matches the description of the box missing from Dr. Gage’s house. We also found this.” He held up a plastic bag with a notepad in it.

  Will recognized Jim’s small, block printing. At the top of the paper was written: Dillon Kincaid 10:05 p.m. Beneath were notes from the phone conversation Dillon told him about. Key phrases were underlined. Robin McKenna intended victim. Why call Hooper? Did call come before or after murder?

  There were several pages of notes.

  “We also found shoes that tested positive for blood. We’ll expedite the test to verify a match to Dr. Gage.”

  “Any journals?” Will asked. “Notes of any kind?”

  “We’re still searching,” he responded. “We have a computer specialist working on a laptop. Files have been recently deleted, but he believes he can retrieve them.”

  Will’s phone rang. It was Hans. “Any news on Glenn?” Will answered.

  “My contact Nico tracked Glenn to a bar on the south end of Tijuana,” Hans replied. “The owner said a man matching Glenn’s description went home with his waitress last night. Nico broke into the apartment and Glenn was gone. The waitress was uncooperative, but Nico learned he’d missed Glenn by twenty minutes.”

  “Shit,” Will muttered. “Did the owner tip him off?”

  “Could be. Nico is getting close. We’ll get him. Are you at Cresson’s house?”

  “Yes. We found the missing case files and other incriminating evidence.”

  “I just spoke with Dillon Kincaid and he said she’ll probably have a journal or diary that will be a justification of all her actions.”

  “There are deleted files on her computer they are retrieving right now. Are you going to meet me downtown later?”

  “I wish I could stay for a couple more days, but I’m driving to the airport as we speak.”

  “Heading back to D.C.?”

  “Not yet. Three fugitives were spotted north of Salt Lake City, possibly heading to Idaho, Montana, or even crossing the border into Canada. I’m meeting up with another agent who specializes in fugitive apprehension and hopefully we’ll catch their trail.”

  “I heard on the wire that there’s a major storm coming in.”

  “That’s why I have to jump on the next flight. With Glenn out of the country and Cresson behind bars, I don’t know how much help I’ll be to you.”

  “Who do I contact to find out how to extradite Glenn when your guy Nico finds him?”

  Hans paused. “There won’t be any extradition issues. Nico will bring him back. I didn’t go through LEGAT on this. If I went through the bureaucracy, they’d still be negotiating with the local authorities and Glenn would be long gone. Trust me.”

  Will understood exactly what Hans was doing, and he owed him a big one. “I appreciate it, Hans. But I’m worried about Robin. I can’t expect her to lock herself in her loft for the rest of her life.”

  �
��I gave Nico your contact information. He’ll be in touch as soon as he has information on Glenn. The local FBI office is working with your D.A. regarding a plea agreement with Cresson.”

  “It was good working with you, Hans.”

  “Likewise, Detective. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Catch the other bastards.”

  “You got it.”

  Robin went to the art gallery Saturday after lunch to talk to Isabelle about the showing the following day. She was still running high after her night with Will. Finally, her personal and professional lives were going well. She had a man she loved-who she believed with her whole heart loved her right back-and her dream of being a professional artist was within her grasp. Her club was reopening tonight and she was offering half-price drinks to bring people in. If this night went well, the two nights she’d lost because of Theodore wouldn’t hurt her business at all.

  Isabelle greeted her with a hug. She was a petite version of Snow White, Robin had always thought, with dark hair and milk white skin. Her brown eyes practically glowed, and she wore her designer clothes with flair and confidence.

  “I am so excited about tomorrow! I have several serious buyers who have expressed interest in commissioning you for work, and a new high-end hotel wanting two murals for their dramatic beachside entry.”

  “You’ve been busy,” Robin said, outwardly calm but inwardly jumping up and down.

  Isabelle laughed. “Let me show you what we’ve done.”

  For the next hour, Isabelle walked through the gallery and showed how they were highlighting Robin’s work with special lights and dramatic black backdrops that made the bold colors on white canvas really pop.

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Thank me? You’re going to help me make a name for myself as a keen eye for new talent. At least that’s what I’m hoping the art critic will say when he views your work tomorrow.”

  “Oh, God, I’m going to panic.” For months, this date had been so far off. But, it was actually happening tomorrow and Robin hadn’t had time to think about it because of the hell Theodore had put her through since his escape.

  “You’ll be fine,” Isabelle said. “You already have fan mail.” She reached into her desk drawer and handed Robin an ivory envelope. “This came in today’s mail. You did see that big feature in the arts section of the paper on Thursday, right? I’m expecting a fantastic showing.”

  “Wow. Thanks.” Robin hesitated opening it.

  “Come on, don’t I get to share in the praise, too?”

  She smiled. “I’m just not used to this.”

  “Get used to it.”

  Robin ripped open the envelope and slid out the heavy note card.

  Her stomach turned sour when she recognized the handwriting.

  My Robin,

  I’m leaving for a while, as I’m sure your boyfriend told you. Are you fucking William again? Of course you are. You’re a slut, like all of them. They wanted me to screw them. They loved it. You know they begged for me. They wanted me. They knew how powerful I am.

  You were supposed to be mine. What made you think you were so much better than me? You’re nothing but an animal in beautiful clothes. What will you do when you find William dead? I hope you don’t kill yourself like Juliet. I want that honor.

  By the time you read this, I’ll be in Mexico. Free. Think about that. I’ll be free. You’ll never be free as long as I live. Someday I’ll come for you. You’ll never know when. Tomorrow? Next month? Next year?

  Sleep well, Robin. Sleep well with the lights on.

  Theodore

  P.S. Sara did her job very well, otherwise I wouldn’t have known you are still scared of the dark. As well you should be, because the next time the lights go out it will be William’s body you trip over.

  Robin read the letter as if she were in a tunnel, everything in the periphery black. Fading.

  The next time the lights go out it will be William’s body you trip over.

  He wasn’t gone. He knew where she lived, where she worked, where her art was shown. He would come back and hurt her, hurt people she cared about.

  Dear God, why? Hadn’t she been through enough?

  “Robin?” Isabelle sounded as if she were speaking from far away.

  Was she supposed to be scared for the rest of her life, thinking that Glenn could come back at any time? Certainly after a few weeks the police would have more important crimes to focus on. Glenn had money and brains. He could disappear for months, years, until he felt like tormenting her. Send her a card now and again. Keep her scared. Keep her on edge. She’d never live in peace with that bastard free.

  Before she realized what she’d done, she’d torn the card up in small pieces.

  “No!” she shouted. “I’m not going to live in fear for the rest of my life!”

  She looked at the pieces of paper in her hands and realized she’d destroyed evidence. She wasn’t thinking straight. “Do you have a manila envelope?” she asked Isabelle, her voice tight.

  With a frown, Isabelle found one in her desk. Robin dropped the pieces into it, then said, “I’m sorry. It’s him. Just trying to hurt me.”

  Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she called Will. “Theodore Glenn sent me a letter. Dammit, Will, when is it going to stop?”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Leaving Robin at the club, even with Mario and his team keeping an eye on her, was the hardest thing Will had done, but D.A. Stanton had called him personally to come down to the station.

  A plea agreement was on the table and Diana refused to sign it until she talked to Will. He didn’t want to talk to her, but had no choice. The sheriff’s crime scene unit had re-created her deleted files. She kept a computer journal of two murders, other than Anna Clark. Dillon had been right-she had killed before. But he’d been wrong about the victims.

  For all Diana’s talk about her father the biologist, he was dead. She’d killed him and his young lover-a teaching assistant-and staged it as a murder-suicide. It had been ruled that the teaching assistant killed him when he allegedly broke it off with her, then killed herself in a wave of remorse.

  Diana’s journal admitted to both murders.

  He hated leaving Robin vulnerable only to sit across from his warped former lover who had wanted Robin dead, but Will had no choice. This was his job, and he would do anything legal to put Diana Cresson behind bars for the rest of her life.

  They sat in a room normally reserved for defense attorneys and their clients, Diana across from him, in jailhouse orange, and shackled. Her face was devoid of makeup and her blonde hair hung in a limp ponytail. Her eyes, however, glowed with an appeal for something. What, forgiveness? Understanding? She would get neither from Will.

  “I knew you’d come,” she said, smiling brightly.

  “I didn’t have a choice. You refused to sign the agreement unless I did.”

  “We always have choices, Will.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Everything I did, I did for the right reasons.”

  “You can’t believe that, Diana.”

  She nodded vigorously, her eyes glistening. “I’m sorry about Jim. I’m really sorry about Jim. But he knew about me.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  She blinked. “He was looking into the Anna Clark case. He told me to my face that no one was reviewing the evidence, but then he walks out of the building with all the case files? He never leaves early. I didn’t want to kill him, but I had to get those files back.”

  “The FBI had copies of all those files. And nothing in the files incriminated you for Anna’s murder. What they did tell us was that someone other than Theodore Glenn killed Anna. Jim discovered that the cuts on Anna’s body were made postmortem.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t want to kill Jim. I had to.”

  “You didn’t have to kill Anna Clark.”

  She waved her hand as if swatting a fly, her shackles rattling. “Who cares about he
r?”

  “She had a mother who cared about her. Friends.”

  “Friends like Robin McKenna?”

  The viciousness that suddenly crossed Diana’s face surprised Will. “I wanted to kill that slut, not her lesbo roommate. Anna came in unexpectedly. I had no choice.”

  “Why did you call me after you killed Anna?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Someone paged me from the apartment.”

  “When Anna came in, I was already there. I was getting ready for Robin, and I didn’t expect her for another thirty minutes. I told Anna that I was processing evidence in Robin’s closet. She didn’t believe me, walked over to the phone and paged you before I could stop her. I didn’t want it to go that far, I didn’t intend to kill her, but I had no choice. She paged you so I hit her with my gun. She was stunned, and I dragged her to the entry and slit her throat. Just like Glenn did to his victims. I had it all planned, except I didn’t expect Anna. Robin should have died, dammit!”

  “Why did you want to kill Robin?”

  “She took you away from your job. She was a whore, Will. She didn’t deserve a good man like you. If she were dead, you could focus again on your career. Your future. You could have been chief of police someday, Will.”

  “I never wanted to be in charge, Diana. That was something you got in your head.”

  “Why’d you do it, Will? Because she was easy? Because she would do anything you wanted? Men are so shallow, they’ll give up anything and everyone for a good fuck.”

  Will refused to discuss his relationship. “The Sheriff’s Department found the journals you attempted to delete. You admitted to killing your father and his lover.”

  “I did not kill anyone. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The police in Massachusetts are going to reopen the case.”

  She shrugged.

  “You killed your own father. You never told me he was dead, Diana. You talked about him as if he were alive.”

  She didn’t respond, playing instead with her fingernails. They’d been bitten to the quick. Still, she picked.