Killing Fear (21 page)

“Like I said, this department has been on the ball. If you don’t need me, I can go back to San Francisco.”

Will shook his head. “No, I’d like you to stay. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. A fresh set of eyes, a clean perspective, is always good in a case this complex.”

Vigo nodded. “Of those nineteen women, we ranked them in terms of most likely to harbor a fugitive. Six are considered high risk. We have their names and addresses, though some of these letters are more than a few years old. It’s important to track down all nineteen women, but imperative that someone in law enforcement speaks to the six women on the high-risk list as soon as possible.”

“How did they make the list?”

“They are white, single women between the ages of twenty and sixty. They all own property under their own name. They are professionals to some degree. Glenn would not be attracted to an illiterate woman. This is someone he has already tested. Someone he has probably already asked to do something illegal, who has done his bidding to his satisfaction. But since we don’t know
what
test he would have put them through, we don’t know what to look for in their recent activities. None have federal records, but I’ll give the list to your people to check for a local rap sheet.”

“Do you really think Theodore Glenn is with one of these women?” Chief Causey asked, handing a copy to Officer Diaz with the order to run the list. Diaz left.

Vigo nodded. “Without a doubt, he’ll make contact with at least one of them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he rotated between two or three of them, but he’ll be cautious.”

“How can you be so positive the woman won’t contact the police as soon as she has a chance?” Carina asked.

“The type of women who contact convicted murderers usually fall into one of four categories: First, they want to express their outrage and usually tell the killer to rot in hell.”

“I’m with them,” Carina said.

“The second type is religious or spiritual. They want to pray for the killer, encourage him to find God and ask for forgiveness, be repentant, show remorse. The third type are celebrity hounds, those who collect mementos from famous people. They want a letter back, so they can either add the signature to their collection or sell it. They may enter into a correspondence and attempt to find out additional facts. Some of these people may also exhibit sociopathic tendencies, and live vicariously through the convict, but the women in this group are usually nonviolent.”

“And the last type?” Will said.

“Often, they have been abused in the past, most likely by a male authority figure. They have justified the abuse in their minds. They deserved it, according to their reasoning, and if only they had done X, Y, and Z the man wouldn’t have hurt them. It’s similar to many abused wives: They think they can see the good in the abuser. They need to be needed. They are good listeners. It’s interesting that some of these women are professionals—smart, on the surface someone you wouldn’t expect to initiate a friendship with a killer. But they are wired different emotionally. They want to cure all the ills of the world, and they will start by being whatever the killer wants them to be. They understand him, they think. They are sympathetic. They see a side of him that others ignore. But when you talk to them, don’t assume they are dumb or unmanipulative. They will say or do anything to protect the man who they believe they can save. They may even think he is innocent or misunderstood. Or that he had a good reason for doing what he did.”

Carina shook her head and Will said, “Glenn is already a manipulative personality. He could convince almost anyone he was wrongly convicted.”

Vigo agreed. “Coupled with the fact that he is attractive and independently wealthy, he would be appealing to these types of women on multiple levels. Many of them are physically homely or have been told so by those they trust. But physical appearance is not a major indicator. Emotional immaturity and prior abuse, either emotional or physical, is the key.”

“What about greed?” Will asked. “We both agree that Glenn hid money. What if he’s paying them to help him?”

“Not that simple, but it’s part of the big picture. The woman might see that she can get something for what she thinks is a low price. Glenn has been moving money for the last few years.”

Will sat straight up. “His money is in a trust.”

Chief Causey spoke. “Some, not all. Only the funds needed for court-ordered restitution are held in a trust. He had plenty of property and stocks to manipulate.”

Vigo interjected, “Our finance experts are working on tracking his money trail. He’s paid over a quarter million dollars to his legal firm.”

“But he represented himself,” Will said.

“He hired a firm to do research and prepare reports. It’s not unheard of,” Vigo said. “And someone of his ego might be thinking he’d rather give his money to attorneys than to the victims or the state or his parents when he dies. Because right now, when he’s executed, any funds minus restitution will be given to his parents.”

“Small consolation for having two dead kids,” Carina said.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Officer Diaz reentered. “Detective, here’s the reports on those six women you needed sheets for.”

“And?”

“Only one person has a record. Jane Plummer. She was arrested ten years ago for possession, given probation. Then nine years ago she was arrested for possession with intent. Again, probation. I talked to the arresting officer and he said her boyfriend was the bad guy, not her, but she was scared of him and wouldn’t talk. They threw the guy in prison for six months, gave her probation.”

“What was his name?”

“Javier Rodriguez.”

“And where is he?”

“Dead. Overdosed six years ago.”

“What do you think?” Will asked, glancing at Jane’s record. Fairly innocuous, and she’d been clean since Rodriguez OD’d.

“I think she’s a good bet,” Vigo said. “She’s already been in one possibly abusive relationship. Definitely check her out, and I’ll see if we can dig deeper on our end.”

“Excuse me,” Carina said. “I get that these women could be cowed by Glenn. But what I don’t understand is how he could have prepared for this. I mean, he didn’t
cause
the earthquake. He took advantage of an opportunity. What you’re saying is that he’s had something planned for a long time.”

Hans nodded. “Good observation, Detective Kincaid. I suspect that he has been planning an escape, though not from San Quentin. He has requested three transfers through his law firm that have all been denied. But two months ago he was severely beaten by a prison gang. He filed again, and the plea was pending in front of a sympathetic judge. I suspect that if he were going to escape, it would have been during a transfer, with help from the outside. A long shot, but definitely more plausible than planning an escape from San Quentin.

“I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that Theodore Glenn is a wealthy man. While his finances have been watched carefully, he’s an attorney and most of the people working in the court system are only looking for big red flags. I believe he made financial provisions in case he was arrested. He would have hidden a substantial amount of money. And my guess is that one of these women is the key to that money pool.”

“I’ll call Doug up in e-crimes and see if he can track down the finances of Glenn’s law firm,” Will said, making a note.

Carina asked, “But why didn’t he run after Brandi Bell was killed? Why take the risk of killing Jessica and Anna?”

Will answered. “For the thrill. He wanted to get away with it, he wanted to rub our noses in our own mistakes. Taking the picture of Frank sleeping—that was arrogance. His intelligence trumping the cops’.”

“Then why didn’t he use the photo during trial?” Diaz asked.

“And blow his own alibi?” Will shook his head. “Seven years ago he was a step ahead of us. He picked victims who wouldn’t elicit a lot of public sympathy. The public equates strippers with hookers. Then when he made a mistake, luck was on his side. The crime techs contaminated the evidence. But he knew he’d screwed up, and started using bleach. Not only to torture his victims, but to destroy any evidence he inadvertently left behind. I think he took the picture of Frank more for himself than for anyone else.”

“You’re right,” Vigo said, “except for the last point. He’d always planned on using that photograph, and I imagine he has more hidden. You simply stopped him before he had an opportunity.”

Carina spoke up. “We know that he dumped a stolen vehicle in Anaheim. Do you have any women from Orange County who wrote to Glenn?”

Vigo nodded and looked at his file. “Three.”

“Maybe we should check them out as well,” Carina said.

“Good call, Detective,” Agent Vigo said. “I’ll call the Orange County field office and they’ll get on it today.”

“And we’ll start on the nineteen in San Diego,” Will said.

“There’s something else you need to consider.” Vigo paused.

Will nodded. “I already have.”

Vigo raised an eyebrow.

“You were going to ask if I believed Theodore Glenn didn’t kill Anna Clark, as he told the reporter and Robin.”

Vigo nodded.

“I’ve been looking at the case files,” Will said. “If there’s another killer out there, I want to find him. But honestly, I think this is one of his tricks. It was never released to the media that Glenn used bleach on his victims. That didn’t come out until the actual trial.”

“You understand if Glenn is telling the truth, then whoever killed Anna had inside knowledge of the investigation.”

“I know,” Will said, shifting uncomfortably.

If Glenn is in fact innocent of Anna’s murder, someone I know—possibly someone I trust—killed her.

“But why?”

“That,” Vigo said quietly, “I haven’t figured out yet. I’d like to talk to Robin McKenna and everyone else involved in Glenn’s prosecution.”

“Fine,” Will said, “as long as I can ride along with you.”

“I insist, Detective. In fact, you’re the only one I’m confident didn’t kill Anna Clark.”

EIGHTEEN

Robin spent Wednesday morning at the gun range, then went to the club. She nodded to Mario Medina’s man who was monitoring the entrance. She didn’t remember his name, but he was bigger than her largest bouncer and if she could afford him, she’d have hired him in a heartbeat. Just one look, and anyone with a nefarious intention would run away. Fast.

“Where’s your partner?” she asked, knowing Mario had two men on the club at all times.

“Around,” the hulking man said.

That would have to be good enough.

Having the added security made her feel better. Proactive. Not a victim any longer, but the strong, independent woman everyone thought she was.

She went back to her office to focus on work, but after kissing Will the night before, she couldn’t get him—or the day she left him—out of her mind.

It was the day after she found Anna dead. The club
was closed, she couldn’t get into her apartment—not that she wanted to ever go back after what happened to Anna inside. She had nowhere to go. No one to talk to. Will was her lifeline, her strength.

He brought her to his town house on the beach after she gave a statement to the police. Though she had washed in the police bathroom, she hadn’t showered. She still felt Anna’s blood all over her, even if she couldn’t see it. Like she’d never rid the smell from her nose, the taste from her mouth, the slippery feeling from her hands.

“Shower,” he told her.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged, feeling pathetic and needy. And fearful. She didn’t like being scared.

He caressed her hair. “Never. If I could take away what you saw I would. I wish I could change everything. I’m so sorry about what happened.” He kissed her lips. So light. Loving.

“Come with me,” she said to him.

He hesitated. Just a fraction and she felt like a stupid, clinging woman. “I know you have work to do. I’ll be fine.”

“No, it’s not that. I just—are you sure?”

She nodded.

He took the ill-fitting clothes off her body. She’d had to give up her own clothing as evidence. Because she had fallen into Anna’s blood. Blood coating her body. Her hands. Her face. She hadn’t known what she had fallen on, not until she scrambled up and turned on the lights.

Then she saw…

She began to cry. “No, Robin, please don’t cry.” Will brushed away the tears with his palms, then took off his own clothes, and helped her into his shower. She sobbed
and he scrubbed her body. “Harder,” she said. “Her blood is all over me.”

“It’s gone.”

“Please.”

Will scrubbed until her skin was raw and the water painful. He washed her hair three times, used his soap on her body. She now smelled like him, and that gave her some peace. To be wrapped up in Will Hooper, she could live with that. She’d been thinking a lot about what they had and what they didn’t have. Will knew she was a stripper. He still showed her more care and compassion than any man in her life. There was something there, something more than there had ever been in her life.

They went to bed. Slow and passionate, two people brought together by tragedy forging something beautiful out of the evil surrounding them. And she slept, awaking only when she didn’t feel Will’s arms around her.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go in. The lab found evidence that links Anna to Theodore Glenn. The D.A. is already working on the warrant, and I need to be there to haul him in.”

She sat up, pulling Will’s sheet around her naked body. “Take me with you.”

“You know I can’t.”

“I can’t help but think I could have done something to save her.” No tears came, she was drained.

“You didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

Will slipped on his slacks. “That Anna had sex with Glenn. She wasn’t on the target list we put together after Brandi was killed. He must have been watching her, knew she’d returned from Big Bear early.”