“Hooper?” Will Hooper was a solid cop. Trinity couldn’t see him planting evidence.
“Something didn’t come out at trial, but is relevant to this case. While Anna Clark was murdered, Mr. Hooper was fucking Robin McKenna.”
Robin McKenna was the stripper who had been Anna’s roommate. She had testified against Glenn. Robin had since bought the strip joint where they worked, and The Eighth Sin was now one of the hottest nightclubs in San Diego. Trinity had been there a couple times. Urban, chic, with trendy music, lots of dancing, good drinks, and an attentive staff.
Robin McKenna herself was gorgeous, but Trinity sensed at the trial that she was also smart and savvy. It didn’t surprise her that she could turn a fledging strip joint into a high-class nightclub. Had she been involved with Will Hooper? Hooper was a stud. He had a long list of girlfriends. His reputation was no secret among cops and reporters.
Years ago, she’d slept with Will Hooper. He was cute, funny, attentive, and smart. What woman wouldn’t fall for him?
But the relationship had just…evaporated. That last date when he took her to a lovely restaurant on the coast outside Coronado, she thought they might be moving to the next level, then he kissed her good night on her porch and she never heard from him again. Every time she saw him he smiled and was polite, and not once had she heard from any cop that she’d slept with Hooper. He told no one. She doubted his partner Carina Kincaid knew, because Carina was an easy read and protective of Hooper. She’d have said something, even just a snide remark. Nothing.
Will Hooper did not kiss and tell.
She could picture how Will and Robin McKenna met over tragedy. Forging a relationship. How had it ended? Had he taken her to a nice restaurant and kissed her good night? A quiet good-bye…
“You know William, don’t you?” Glenn’s voice was mocking, almost a laugh.
“How do you know he was involved with Robin McKenna?” Trinity asked, gathering her thoughts.
The killer chuckled. “I followed every step of the police investigation.”
“No one is going to believe you didn’t kill Anna Clark.”
“That is your job. I don’t know how they did it, but I didn’t kill that bitch. The truth is in the evidence, but do you think they would show me? Do you think that they’ll just open their books, even when they have to? Go ask William Hooper, or the D.A., or the fucking crime scene investigator!”
He stepped away from the door and paced. She shouldn’t have set him off. She couldn’t see him except a darker shape in the shadows, but his movement was frantic. Fear ran over her, but she suppressed it. He said he wasn’t going to kill her.
Damn, was she going to believe him? After he admitted to killing three women?
“William didn’t kill her,” Glenn said as if thinking out loud. He stopped at the end of her bed and stared at her, the whites of his eyes almost glowing. Chills ran down her back and she shivered. “He was screwing Robin McKenna. I watched. Robin. She was supposed to be next, but she wouldn’t go out with me. All the other whores let me wine and dine them, but that bitch was cold. Liquid fire onstage, but in person…” his voice trailed off.
“I watched them. They were in the club. It was two in the morning. Robin sat in the bar. Crying. William Hooper walked in. ‘What’s wrong?’ And they were on each other like animals. Couldn’t even walk across the damn street to find a bed. If they had, maybe Anna would still be alive. But while they screwed, poor little Anna Louisa Clark died.”
It was after midnight when Will came home. He couldn’t sleep, so he lifted weights in the second bedroom, his iPod loud enough to drown out both thoughts and memories. An hour later, sore and drenched in sweat, he showered, then fell onto his bed wearing only boxers, the cold February night breeze coming in through his open windows. The last time he saw the digital clock it mockingly glowed red: 2:01.
Then he dreamed. Remembered.
Will watched Robin from the shadows. She picked up her glass—a martini, straight up—and sipped. The stress of the investigation was getting to her. Three of her friends had died and he knew who the killer was, had interrogated him twice, but that wily bastard gave nothing up. Even three days in prison hadn’t fazed Theodore Glenn.
Will didn’t know what was going on with him. He didn’t mess with victims. He didn’t get personally involved with witnesses. But Robin McKenna was no ordinary woman. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Every morning he woke with her in his thoughts, every night he wasn’t with her he was lonely, empty, incomplete.
Six weeks ago they’d acted on a mutual attraction that began when he first interviewed her after Bethany Coleman’s murder. He’d have forced her to stay in his bed to keep her safe, but Robin wasn’t a woman to run. She faced the fear. But he’d been watching her. Worried. They’d argued the night before. “Quit,” he’d said, knowing he had no right. It wasn’t that she was a stripper, it was that being a stripper put her on the killer’s hit list.
Though he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that her job bothered him on more than one level. Because he felt more for her than he could say out loud.
She’d shaken her head. “Someone else will die. You have to find him, Will. Stop him. Only then will I—we—be safe.”
Now watching her, he saw her fear and her beauty, her vulnerability and her strength. He walked over to her. “Robin, honey, what’s wrong?”
His hand rested on her shoulder. She was crying without sound, her body tense and shaking, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.
“I’m scared, Will.”
“Come home with me.”
“I can’t. I’m not going to be chased away from my home.”
“Please—Anna did the sensible thing and went to visit her mom. I can’t stand the thought of you being here alone. Vulnerable.”
He kissed her. She was water to a dying man, all the woman he ever could want, ever need. He drank her greedily, his tongue searching for hers, finding it, pulling it in, taking everything he could.
In the back of his mind, he knew this would not last, yet he desperately prayed it would.
“Robin,” he murmured against her mouth, her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed her mouth, her throat, his tongue moving down to her breasts, easily found through the loose-fitting blouse she wore. He tasted her tears on her skin.
Her tears ate at him. He stepped back. “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand it.” He wiped them off with his palms, trying to take away her anguish and hold it inside him.
“Hold me, Will. Hold me.”
“Always.”
“Nothing is forever.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Make love to me.”
She reached down and unbuttoned his fly. He was hard. He always was when in her arms. He didn’t want it like this, in the bar, but he couldn’t let her go. He needed her, and she showed a rare vulnerability and need for him. He had to prove to her that he was real, that he loved her. Wanted her fully, not just like this.
But like this was heaven.
Entering Robin was like coming home, better each time. As they greedily took each other, he realized he didn’t want to live without her. Ever.
Will jolted awake as his cell phone rang. His cock was hard and he was on the verge of a wet dream. With Robin.
This was so screwed.
He glanced at the clock as he answered his phone. 4:14 a.m.
“Hooper.”
“Sergeant Fields here. That reporter, Trinity Lange, just called. Theodore Glenn paid her a visit tonight.”
TEN
Carina beat Will to Trinity Lange’s town house. She met him at the front door and, without preamble, said, “No sexual assault. He tied her to her bed and from what she told responding officers let her interview him. She specifically asked to talk to you, and they told her you had already been called.”
Carina’s tone was cool, still ticked off over their argument the night before, b
ut ever the professional. Will didn’t know how to make it right with his partner. His strength was his people skills, yet right now he felt like he had none as far as Carina was concerned. She wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d spilled his guts, and he wasn’t ready to do that.
“How’s she holding up?” Will asked as they walked through the foyer. Trinity was smart and sassy, with the kind of self-possession that attracted Will to a woman.
Carina rolled her eyes. “Better than I would be after being in a room with a killer who likes to carve pictures on his victims with an X-ACTO knife.”
“Has the lab been called?”
“They’re on their way over.”
“Gage?”
“Probably, considering how high-profile this case is.” Since both Chief Causey and the current District Attorney Andrew Stanton had prioritized anything to do with Theodore Glenn, the crime lab would expedite the processing of evidence. If only they’d been able to prioritize Bethany Coleman’s murder seven years ago, maybe she’d have been the only one to die at the hands of Theodore Glenn. Maybe if they hadn’t been overworked and understaffed there’d have been no contamination of the DNA evidence in the first place.
Trinity sat at her kitchen table, a coffee mug at her side, writing frantically in a notepad. An officer stood behind her, trying to see what she was writing, but she shielded the page. She glanced over her shoulder to give the cop a dirty look, then spotted Will and Carina. Her eyes glowed. “Detectives. Coffee?”
She flipped the notepad over and stood, walking over to the steaming carafe on the counter.
Formal. Professional. She had indeed pulled herself together quickly.
“Thanks.” Carina sat down at the table. Will saw her staring at the notepad. He, too, was curious as to what Trinity was writing. More flies with honey, he thought, giving Trinity a friendly smile.
“That would be great, Trinity.” He watched her. She’d dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. Trinity was a hair over five foot three, and with her blonde hair loose she looked much younger than Will remembered her to be: thirty-two. But her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and he could practically see the gears in her head working.
“Cream? Sugar?” she asked.
“Black,” Carina said.
“Cream,” Will said, though he knew he didn’t have to. Trinity would have remembered.
She made one too many furtive glances at the cop standing sentry in the kitchen. Will turned to him. “Officer, do you mind giving us some privacy? It may be easier for Ms. Lange to recount her ordeal without an audience. How many are on scene?”
“Four, with more units on the way.”
“Great. Pick someone to help canvass the neighbors. I don’t care that it’s four thirty in the morning, we need to know if anyone heard or saw anything between one thirty and four, or has seen Theodore Glenn anytime in the last twenty-four hours. You have his sheet?”
They’d put together photos of Glenn at arrest along with sketches of him with altered appearances. The first thing he’d have done was purchase over-the-counter color contact lenses. Glenn’s sharp blue eyes were so bright and unusual that people would remember them. According to Chief Causey, the FBI was following that avenue by contacting businesses along the 99 corridor, which they now knew he’d driven after his escape.
“I’m on it,” the cop said, and left.
Trinity carried the mugs to the table. Will sat down next to her, facing the entrance to see who came in through the door, while Carina was to his left, directly across from Trinity.
“Tell me what happened,” Will said.
“I woke up with him on top of me. He clamped his hand over my mouth.” She shuddered. “He told me he wouldn’t kill me. Then he used duct tape to bind my feet together and my right hand to the bed.”
“Just your right hand?”
“He handed me my notebook and a pen. Told me to take good notes.”
“He knew you were left-handed.”
She nodded. Though it was unnerving that Glenn remembered such a small detail nearly seven years later, Will wasn’t surprised. Glenn was smarter than most people gave him credit for.
“What did he tell you?”
“He wanted to set the record straight. He insisted that he didn’t kill Anna Clark.”
Will slammed his mug down on the table, hot coffee sloshing over the sides. Trinity grabbed her notebook out of the way of the spill, and Carina jumped up to get paper towels.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. That bastard.
He helped clean up the mess, placed his mug carefully in the sink. He rarely lost his temper, but look what he’d done. Here, and decking Frank. Theodore Glenn brought out his dark side. Will hated him for it.
“You remember what he did to his victims,” Will said. “He tortured them with an X-ACTO knife before tiring of the game, dragging them to the front door, and slitting their throat so that the next person who walked into the room slipped in their blood. We know he killed those women.”
Carina frowned and Trinity stared at him. He took a deep breath. “Trinity,” he said through clenched teeth, “Glenn loves the game. He’s using you. He will kill you when you don’t do what he wants.”
“What did he say he wanted from you?” Carina asked.
Before Will could say anything, Trinity said, “He takes credit for the first three murders. He admitted to me that he killed Bethany, Brandi, and Jessica. He wants me to prove he didn’t kill Anna.”
Will bit his tongue. Hands clenched, his heart rang in his ears. What was his angle? Why would he admit to killing the first three victims, but not Anna? It didn’t make sense. Just another one of his many games. Did he just want to torment Robin? Knowing that if Anna’s murder was discussed in the media it would hurt Robin?
Will would do anything to spare her the pain.
But—why? Why would Glenn admit to three murders and not the fourth? There were some minor discrepancies in the murders, but Bethany was different as well. He hadn’t used bleach on Bethany, but had on the other three. Yet Anna had fewer marks on her. Will and the crime scene analysts had determined at the time that Glenn was rushed. There had also been the theory that Anna hadn’t been the intended victim, that Glenn planned on Robin coming home, not Anna, who was supposed to be out of town.
But the truth was the M.O. was virtually the same, the knife was identical, and the jury was unanimous in its verdict that Glenn killed all four women.
“Trinity,” Will said, forcing calm. “We’ve known each other for what? Nine, ten years?”
She nodded, searching his eyes, her face piqued with interest but her expression unreadable.
“Glenn wants attention. He wants you to stir the pot, create dissent in the ranks.” Will would look into Anna’s case again, one last time, but he was confident Glenn killed her. His hair was found in her fist. She fit Glenn’s profile…except Anna hadn’t slept with him.
Will shook his head. “You’ll be bringing up the past and hurting the victim’s friends and family. Don’t let him use you. Don’t print his words. He wants that. He wants to be the focal point. The animal is a convicted murderer. During his escape, he fatally bludgeoned an injured guard. He killed his own sister yesterday because she testified against him. His intelligence and good looks disguise a sociopath. He has no remorse, and he will kill you without a second thought.”
Carina cleared her throat. Will took a deep breath, the red rage that grew whenever he thought of Theodore Glenn fading but not gone. It would never be gone as long as Glenn walked free.
Carina asked Trinity, “Did he give any hint as to where he was going? What his plans are?”
Trinity shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Did you get a good look at him? Has he altered his appearance?”
“It was dark, and he stayed in the shadows. I only saw his outline. He seems bulkier than during trial. Not fat, but like he’s been working out.”
“The damn prisons let the convicts use a weight
room,” Will muttered. “Are we talking upper body muscle?”
She nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it.
“Don’t hold back, Trinity. We need to know everything.”
She glanced at her notepad, which was still facedown.
“Like Will said,” Carina interjected, sensing that, like Will, Trinity was holding something back, “Glenn plays games. But the truth is, forensic evidence—biological evidence—proved he did in fact kill Anna Clark. His hair was found on the victim’s body. Evidence doesn’t lie.”
“He contends that the evidence was planted,” Trinity said.
“Him and O.J.,” Will spat out, standing. “Are you buying into his act?”
Trinity stood and looked up at him, hands on the table. “I’ll tell you what I know, William Hooper. I know that he hates you. I know that he hates Robin McKenna, Anna’s roommate. And I know that he would kill me in a heartbeat if he didn’t think I was helpful to him.
“But I also know the police can screw up. I know that individuals can make mistakes. We are all human and fallible.” She pulled an envelope out of her notebook and slapped it in front of Will. “Frankly, if what Theodore Glenn says is true, a killer has truly gotten away with murder. And if I can prove it, I’ll have a ticket to New York City so fast I won’t have time to say thanks for the ride.”
“Is that what this is about?” Will fumed. “Your career?”
“He picked me because I know about this case and—”
“Listen to yourself! He picked you! This isn’t a popularity contest. He picked you and he will kill you. Don’t play his game. Don’t give him print.”
“Last I heard this was a free country, Detective Hooper,” Trinity said, her hackles raised.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve got to watch your back.” Angry, yes, but Will was concerned about Trinity’s safety. He didn’t want anything to happen to her.
His obvious concern diminished the anger between them. He touched her hand. “I’m serious, Trinity,” he said softly. “You’re not safe here, not alone.”
Killing Fear Page 9
