“Fuck you!”
“How’s William?”
He hung up, heart pounding. Shit, he’d planned out the conversation perfectly, then something snapped and now he was angry.
She should have been cowering in fear. She should have been begging for mercy. Instead she threatened him.
He would kill her. He would make her suffer, but first he would make her fear him.
Trinity found Deputy District Attorney Julia Chandler in her office later that morning. As soon as Julia saw her, she said, “You’ll have to talk to Stanton. I have no comment.”
Trinity couldn’t help but grin. “Off the record, Julia. Five minutes.”
The pretty attorney eyed her suspiciously. “Five minutes.”
Trinity closed the door behind her. “Thank you.”
“Five minutes and counting.”
“Seven years ago there was a private meeting in the judge’s chambers where evidence that proved Theodore Glenn killed Bethany Coleman was thrown out on a technicality.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm.
“Theodore Glenn paid me a visit early this morning.”
Julia processed that information, blinking rapidly. “You saw him?”
“More or less. It was dark, I didn’t see much of anything, but it was him. He confessed to killing Bethany, Brandi, and Jessica. He denies killing Anna Clark.”
“He denied killing Anna?” Julia repeated.
“He wants me to prove it.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Julia asked. “Helping him? Why didn’t you call the police? I need to—”
Trinity interjected, “I called the police. Told them everything.” Almost. “And believe me, I’m not too keen on meeting up with him again even if he thinks I’m on his side. But he said a couple things that I’m curious about, and I’m compelled to follow up on them.”
“Did he threaten you? Harm you in any way?”
“Julia, he told me about the evidence that was dismissed. I was at the trial, but obviously not privy to sealed information. The only physical evidence that connected Theodore Glenn to those four murders was DNA evidence found on Anna Clark’s body. Without that, all you had was Robin McKenna’s testimony on his sexual relationships with the first three victims and the old woman who saw him coming out of Brandi’s duplex the night of her murder. An old woman with bad eyesight. No weapon was ever found, and no evidence discovered in Glenn’s house.”
“His house was immaculate,” Julia said. “He is obsessively neat and ordered. He’s also very intelligent, with a borderline genius IQ. This creep knows how to clean up after a crime.”
“But there was evidence that was thrown out, correct?”
Julia stared at her, then nodded. “That should tell you that he’s guilty as sin. I watched his interrogation. After Brandi Bell died, Will Hooper interrogated him for hours. What Glenn didn’t say was more important than what he did say. But the truth is, that man is a psychopath. We know he killed Bethany Coleman, as sure as I’m breathing. But we couldn’t use the evidence because of a screwup in the field. The DNA was contaminated. It happens, as much as we hate it—we are all human, mistakes happen. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, knowing that because of that screwup we had nothing to hold him on after Brandi’s murder.”
“Why didn’t you arrest him after Bethany’s murder if you had the evidence, even if it was contaminated? At least interview him?”
“Brandi Bell was murdered two weeks after Bethany. The evidence hadn’t been processed until the eyewitness identification, and that was when the contamination was discovered.” Julia sighed. “We have one of the best labs in the country, but they still can’t process evidence immediately. There’s still a two-to four-week turnaround on most evidence, longer if there’s a big case pending that takes more staff time. You know how it is.”
“Now that’s a story I can run with.”
“What? Attack the people who work their asses off to catch killers?”
“No, about how the government spends billions of dollars on pork and next to nothing on basic services.”
“More power to you if you can get some attention to this problem.”
“So the evidence was thrown out and Will Hooper had to let Glenn go.”
“I’ve worked with Will since I became a D.D.A. and I’ve never seen him so angry or frustrated with the system. But we had physical evidence linking Glenn to the Anna Clark homicide. Irrefutable evidence, as you remember from the trial. His hair in her fist. The bleach he poured over her body didn’t touch her hand, and the evidence was preserved. With the same M.O., Robin McKenna’s testimony, and the known sexual relationships with the first three victims, we had enough evidence to tie Glenn to all four murders. Enough that a jury of twelve people had no reasonable doubt that he was guilty.”
“If the police suspected Glenn after Brandi was murdered, why didn’t they put a tail on him? Jessica was killed four weeks later.”
“You’ll have to ask Will Hooper about what the police did and did not do.” Julia averted her eyes.
“I know what happened, Julia. I just wanted to know what you knew.”
Julia was about to respond when her door burst open and both women jumped. Trinity turned to see Connor Kincaid, a local P.I. who’d been a cop years ago. She’d heard he and Julia were involved.
Right now, Connor looked like he wanted to hit something.
“Frank Sturgeon is dead.” He faced Julia. “No arguments. I’m taking you to a safe house. Far from San Diego.”
FOURTEEN
Will had first sat face-to-face with Theodore Glenn after Brandi Bell’s murder. His partner Frank Sturgeon leaned against the interrogation room wall, glowering.
They’d thought they had a solid case and could keep this twisted killer in prison. Will had also thought he was dealing with the typical, arrogant killer who would talk himself into a confession if Will played him just right.
By the end of the interrogation, Will knew he had a different breed of sociopath on his hands.
Two women were dead and Will faced their killer.
They’d kept Theodore Glenn in lockup overnight. The day before, a witness during the canvass had come forward with a description of a man who had left Brandi Bell’s house early that morning. According to Robin McKenna, the description matched a regular patron of RJ’s, a man who had dated both victims.
Theodore Glenn.
They’d arrested Glenn at his home without incident. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy it. “I’m sure we’ll get this all straightened out soon enough,” he’d told Will.
Now, the bastard was looking at him with idle curiosity. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t talk nervously. He didn’t fume. He looked as crisp and neat as when they’d brought him in the day before.
“What can I do for you?” Glenn asked, a faint smile on his lips.
“You’re a regular at RJ’s, a club in the gaslight district, correct?” Will asked.
He nodded.
“Please speak your answers out loud for the recording, Mr. Glenn.”
“Yes, I go to RJ’s once or twice a week.”
“How long have you been a regular customer?”
“About a year, maybe a little longer.”
“Why?”
“Why do I enjoy going to a strip club?” Glenn raised an eyebrow, smiling.
“When did you first go to RJ’s?” Will asked.
“A colleague of mine had his bachelor party there last year. I thought the dancers were quite talented. And very attractive. Not like some of the clubs in town showing only old, tired women with sagging breasts and no attitude.
“I particularly enjoyed Brandi. She was the head dancer, very gifted. I’m sorry something happened to her.”
Will watched carefully as Glenn put a frown on his face and shook his head back and forth. There was a falseness to Glenn’s actions, as if he were an actor following a s
cript.
“I also enjoy watching Robin McKenna.”
Will kept his expression in check. Why would Glenn mention Robin specifically? To play with him? A tickle of fear crept up his spine. What if this bastard was watching Robin? What if she was his next target?
Had Will been so wrapped up in Robin that his instincts went south?
“Where were you last night?” Will asked.
“With a lady friend of mine.”
“A dancer at RJ’s?”
“No, not last night. A colleague. Ingrid Vanderson.”
“How long?”
“All night.”
“Where?”
“At my home.”
“Do you have contact information for Ms. Vanderson?”
“Of course. It would be in my address book. I believe you took that from my house.”
Too cocky, overly confident. Most innocent men would be protesting. Upset. Especially at having been kept in jail overnight.
“When was the last time you were at RJ’s?”
“I don’t think I need to answer any more questions, do I? I’ve given you my whereabouts last night, and the woman I was sleeping with.”
Frank suddenly slammed his fist on the table, always the one to play bad cop. “We have a witness who places you at the crime scene at the time Brandi Bell was tortured and killed.”
Glenn didn’t even blink. He showed no reaction to Frank’s temper, and in fact didn’t even look at him, responding instead to Will. “Your witness is mistaken.”
Will knew from Robin that both Bethany and Brandi had had a sexual relationship with Theodore Glenn. “Did you know Brandi Bell outside of her employment?”
“Do you mean did I see her outside of the club?”
Will nodded.
“Yes.”
“Did you have an intimate relationship with her?”
Glenn nodded with a sly smirk. “Yes, I had sex with her.”
Will tried, but knew he failed, to contain his surprise at the admission. Killers with personal ties to the victim often denied it until confronted with solid evidence. Even then, they often continued with the lie or made excuses. “When was the last time you had sex with Ms. Bell?”
“Hmmm, about a month ago. Let’s see. February second. Yes. There was a rerun of that movie Groundhog Day on one of the cable stations. They play it every year now, don’t they? It gets tiresome, but Brandi enjoyed it. We had sex once during the movie, on the floor of her living room. Then afterward, we had a late dinner. Sex on the kitchen table—have you ever done that, William? Sex on the kitchen table?”
Will gritted his teeth. Glenn was toying with him. There was no way he could have seen him and Robin. No way. They had been in his town house. The blinds were closed…
“When was the last time you saw Brandi?” Will asked Glenn.
“Last week. At the club. Friday. I’m there every Friday, and most Wednesdays. Ask Robin. She always makes a point to come by my table and say hello. Now there is a beautiful woman. I’ve often wondered, as I watch her remove her clothes, why such an attractive, smart woman would take the job of a slut?”
Will’s fist hit the steering wheel.
Carina was in the passenger seat. She turned and frowned at him, but said nothing.
He drove directly from Frank’s house—where his former partner had been gunned down sitting at his kitchen table—to The Eighth Sin. He’d had a call from dispatch that Robin McKenna had left a message for him, but when he tried her number no one answered. He called the unit watching her loft and learned the uniform had driven her to the Sin for a meeting.
“I’m sorry, Will.” Carina thought he was thinking about Frank and how his former partner died. But Will had been remembering that first interrogation. Glenn had controlled it from beginning to end. Will took another shot at him later that day, but the damage was done.
Glenn had sabotaged his relationship with Robin. Planted seeds of doubt in his head about her. After Anna’s murder, Will had been too ready to believe that Robin had been the intended victim, that she had slept with Glenn, just like the first three victims. Because it was Glenn’s M.O., and Anna didn’t sleep with men. She was a lesbian.
“I’ll kill him,” Will muttered.
“Stop.”
Will swallowed, pushed Robin from his mind and focused on what Glenn had done to his retired partner.
“You saw the scene. Frank was drunk. Likely passed out. And Glenn walked in and shot him in the face.”
“You don’t know—” Carina began.
“Hell yes I do! It was Glenn. You know it, I know it.”
The cocky bastard was sly as a fox, slippery as a snake. And Theodore Glenn wanted Robin. He’d always wanted Robin. Because she had refused him. Had said no, not interested.
A man like Theodore Glenn would never tolerate rejection.
Yet Will had doubted Robin after Anna was killed. Doubted her because he knew the M.O. The facts. The damn evidence. Glenn had relationships with all the victims. Anna wasn’t supposed to be in the apartment that night—she was supposed to be at her mother’s house in Big Bear. According to Robin, Anna hadn’t told anyone else that she was gay. She feared she’d be fired if anyone knew. So that night, Robin would have been home, alone, if she and Will hadn’t been having sex in the bar.
“Fuck.”
Carina stared at him. “You don’t swear.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Screw that,” she said, angry. “We’re partners. What’s mine is yours and all that crap. At least how it relates to the job. Got it?”
Carina was right. Will had been letting the past get to him. Remembering not only the success of Glenn’s conviction, but their failures—including Frank’s drinking during the stakeout and especially seeing Robin again. When he wasn’t working specifically on Glenn’s escape, he was thinking about her.
“Got it. I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t slept much, I can cut you a little slack. But not forever, pal.”
He pulled into a parallel parking place in front of The Eighth Sin. Robin would automatically have been at the top of Glenn’s target list: She was instrumental in his conviction, and credible to the jury even after his odd cross-examination. Will’s greatest fear was that Glenn would finally kill Robin. Why had she called? It had to be serious if she wanted to talk to him.
“You had something going on with her?” Carina said softly.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve been partners for over two years, but I’ve known you it seems forever. You’re worried about this Robin McKenna, over and above what you would normally feel for a potential victim.”
“She’s not a victim.”
Carina stared at him without comment.
Will’s body tensed. He couldn’t flat-out lie to Carina, not after everything they’d been through together, the trust they’d built. He reluctantly said, “We were involved for a while. During the investigation. It didn’t work out. That’s my M.O., right?”
“Right,” Carina said, making no move to get out.
“What? You know now, leave it alone.”
“Thing is, I do know you. You’re hung up on her. You don’t act like this. The only time you ever get all funky about a woman is when Wendy comes to town and you agree to go to dinner with her.”
“She’s my ex-wife.”
“Yeah, but you loved her, didn’t you?”
Will shrugged, but it was the truth. Of course he’d loved Wendy. He wouldn’t have married her otherwise. But love wasn’t enough. Not then, with Wendy and wedding vows, and certainly not seven years ago with Robin and their insatiable lust.
“Let’s go inside,” Carina said, getting out of the car.
Damn. Her anger was gone and somehow that made Will even more uncomfortable. His partner was half Cuban, she didn’t just drop things.
Carina was ringing the bell before Will closed his door. “Swanky place. I remember walking the beat down here when I was f
irst a cop, before redevelopment. I’m glad the city cleaned it up.”
Will was proud of what Robin had accomplished. Even though they’d only been together for a few weeks, he knew she’d wanted to own her own business. And she’d done it, in style.
No thanks to him, and without him at her side, but what could he do about that now?
The intercom buzzed. “May I help you?”
“Detectives Kincaid and Hooper, San Diego Police Department, to speak with Robin McKenna, please,” Carina said.
“Please come in.” The door buzzed.
Will frowned, thinking anyone could lie and be admitted, then he saw a discreet security camera angled above the door. Of course Robin would have security. She was a smart woman.
An attractive, petite blonde woman met them in the entrance. “I’m Gina Clover, assistant manager. Robin is in a meeting, but she’ll be done momentarily. Please follow me.”
She led them through the club—metal and hollow in its emptiness—to the Back Room which was far more welcoming and comfortable with rich, earthy tones, plush dark green carpet, and a warm atmosphere.
“Can I get either of you something to drink? We have soft drinks as well as bottled water, flavored water, or perhaps some Tazo tea? It’s fresh-brewed.”
“We’re fine,” Will said, answering for both of them.
“Water would be great,” Carina said, frowning at Will. “Thank you.”
Gina nodded with a smile and motioned for them to sit wherever they liked.
The Eighth Sin was much larger than the former RJ’s, and Will realized that Robin had bought the adjoining business and expanded. He couldn’t remember what had been in this space, but Robin must have been doing much better than he thought to be able to afford this. Maybe she had an investor. Maybe she had a lover…
What was it to him? He’d tossed her aside, told her that he didn’t believe her. Worse, she hadn’t defended herself.
Yet had he been in her shoes, would he have denied the accusations, pleaded his case? Hell no. He would have walked, furious and upset that the person he loved had no faith in him.
Killing Fear Page 12
