Killing Fear (36 page)

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 over every vehicle. Glenn is charming, he’s altered his appearance somewhat, he could have said any number of things to convince the couple to drive him across. Seriously, everyone is warned about bringing passengers from Mexico into California, but in reverse?”

Will knew Hans was right, but what was he going to tell Robin? Once in Mexico it was up to the Federal government to extradite him and the Mexican government rarely helped. The American government had no authority down there.

“I have LEGAT on it and they’re going straight to the top. No playing around on this one. But—”

“But we probably won’t get any help.”

Hans glanced around, made sure no one was eavesdropping. “I might have someone who can look around for us. Completely off-the-record.”

“Who?”

“A friend of mine. I’ve worked with him in the past, he has contacts everywhere.”

Will told Hans firmly, “You find him; I’ll bring him back.”

“You can’t, Will, and you know it. But my friend can.”

Will nodded. Hans said, “I’ll make the call.”

Robin had been trying to paint all day, with little success. Worry about her business, Theodore Glenn, the nice Jim Gage being killed in his own home—everything she attempted to create on canvas looked as bleak as she felt. So when Will came by late that afternoon, she relished the break—until she looked into his tired, worried eyes.

“I don’t even want to ask, but something happened.”

Will said, “Glenn slipped out of town.”

“He’s not here? How do you know?”

“He was spotted crossing the border into Mexico. Tijuana.”

Robin blinked rapidly. “And no one stopped him?”

“I watched the security camera tape. He changed his hair—added some gray—and he has on dark contact lenses. Very average looking. And he wasn’t alone. He had two seniors with him.”

“Are they okay?”

“We have an officer at their house waiting for them to return. We ran their license, we know who they are—no record, not even unpaid parking tickets. We spoke to their neighbors and learned that they go down one Friday a month to meet with some retired teachers’ group. They’ll be back tonight and we’ll talk to them. Find out where they left Glenn, if he said anything.” Will looked at Robin, rubbed her chin. “We will find him.”

“He’s gone.” The stress of the last six days intensified. He was gone…but for how long? “Is the Federal government going after him?” Will averted his eyes, just a fraction, but Robin knew he was keeping something from her. “What is it? Will, what aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s not—”

“Don’t tell me it’s not important. If it’s about Theodore Glenn, it’s important! I need to know.”

“He killed Sara Lorenz. Stabbed her to death last night.”

She sat heavily on the couch. “I—I want to feel bad. But she helped him. She
spied
on me.”

“He also left me a letter. Told me he was going to Mexico.”

“And?”

Will didn’t say anything for a long minute.

“Dammit, Will, I’m not a fragile flower. Tell me!”

“He said he was coming back. I just won’t know when.”

Robin took a deep breath. This had been what she feared, in some ways more than facing Glenn again. Knowing he was free, waiting to pounce on her. Taking his time.

“I’m not going to let him touch you. Robin, we have everyone looking for him. The Feds have people in Mexico. We are on the border—”

“You were supposedly on the border before he crossed it, too,” she snapped, feeling bad for taking it out on Will. “I’m sorry, it’s not you—”

“Don’t apologize. I know how you feel, Robin. I feel the same way.”

She shook her head. “No. No, you don’t. I’ve put my life on hold. I hired a bodyguard. I closed my business. I’ve barely left my loft. I’m trapped. All because of
him.
” She didn’t even want to say his name anymore. “I think that’s exactly what he wants. He wants me to be jumping at shadows, looking over my shoulder, worried that he could come for me at any minute. I’m not going to live in fear for the rest of my life! Not anymore.”

She stood, walked over to the window and looked down at the crowded street below. “I’ve been living in fear for seven years, even while he was in prison. The dark scares me because I immediately think about Anna. Falling in her blood. I sleep with the lights on like a little girl. I have a gun because I think it can save me, but only I can do that. Only I can take back my life.”

She faced Will. “He’s not going to have power over me anymore. I’m not going to let him.” She stepped toward Will, a weight lifting from her heart. Saying the words out loud,
believing
them, made Robin feel free for the first time in years. “I’ve made something of my life, and I’m going to enjoy it. I’m not going to let that bastard take it away from me!”

Will grabbed her, pulled her tight against his body, his lips pressed hard on hers. She opened her mouth, tasted him, a free woman at last. Free and in love.

“Robin,” he murmured. “You’ve never let anyone control you.”

He ran both his hands through her hair and she leaned into his caress. “I will do anything, Robin,
anything
to keep you in my life. You’re vibrant. Beautiful. Smart. I’m complete with you. I would do anything for you. Mostly, though, I need you.”

She touched his face. “Will—” She kissed him. “I’m glad we found each other again. Older and wiser.”

He rested his forehead on hers and she breathed in his warm scent. “I have to go.”

She nodded

“Being involved with a cop isn’t easy. It’s not a regular nine-to-five job.”

“Neither is running a nightclub.”

“I want to share everything with you, Robin, but some of it isn’t pretty.”

“You certainly don’t have to tell me that.”

“No, I don’t.” He paused. “How long are you going to keep Mario around?”

“I told Isabelle—who manages the art gallery—that Mario would handle security for the event.”

“Good.”

“But Sunday is Mario’s last day. I’m not going to have a bodyguard for the rest of my life. I can’t live like that.”

“You’ll have me.”

“That I can live with.”

It was six when Will arrived back at the station. Carina had already written up the report on the Sara Lorenz homicide. “During the canvass,” she said, “neighbors said that Sara was friendly, kept to herself, and told everyone she was an attorney. In fact, she was a paralegal but has been putting herself out as a lawyer. Doug found more money and the Feds are locking it down. Dominguez and Hazelwood met with the bank manager this morning, with a warrant from Stanton, and we now have all the bank records and contents of a safe-deposit box.”

“Busy day for everyone, not just us,” Will said. “What was in the box?”

“You’re not going to like it.” She slid over a folder.

Inside were copies of photographs of Robin. They’d been taken over time, over at least two years. “Sara,” Will said.

Carina nodded. “Sara kept a journal of Robin’s movements for the last twenty-six months, much more intensive in the last year since she started working at the Sin under the name of Gina Clover. There were also letters from Glenn to Sara about how to circumvent the system, how to create corporations within corporations, things like that. We have a good chunk of their correspondence and Doug is going over it now to create a better time line.”

“We know the gist of it.” Will looked through the pictures. Robin at the art gallery. Robin at work. Robin at the gun range. Many of the photos were taken from a distance. Some from odd angles, as if Sara had used a camera phone at waist level. “Sara was probably sending Glenn photographs to help gain his trust.”

“Lot of good that did her.” Carina rubbed her eyes.

“Go home,” Will told her. “It’s been a long couple of days. The Feds are tracking Glenn in Mexico, we can’t even take a shot at him down there.”

“Jim’s killer is still out there.”

“And we can’t do anything about that at six o’clock on Friday night.”

“What about you?”

“I—” He didn’t want to tell Carina he was working on Jim’s case. She would insist on staying, but she was going through an emotional wringer. “Just paperwork.” Not a complete lie. “If anything breaks, I’ll call you.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

Carina left and Will found himself alone in the task-force command center. It had been set up to track Glenn, but right now Will spread out his file on Anna Clark’s murder. Why had Jim called him? What had he wanted to talk about? Jim’s message hadn’t sounded urgent, but Will wouldn’t forgive himself anytime soon for not responding to it immediately.

The door opened and Hans walked in. Closed it behind him. “Got something.”

“And?”

“Gage’s phone records. He made a call last night to Dillon Kincaid. I assume you know him.”

“Yes, I didn’t know you did.”

“I worked with him on a case last year. I saw the 202 area code and called the number. I was surprised when he answered.”

“I wonder why Jim called him.”

“And talked for twenty-six minutes. We started talking, but I think you need to listen in. He’s waiting for our call.”

Hans put the phone on speaker and dialed Dillon’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“Hi, Dillon, it’s Hans with Will Hooper.”

“How are you doing, Will? How’s Carina holding up?”

“She’s okay. I just sent her home. I didn’t know we’d be talking.”

“You can fill her in later. I feel awful about Jim. He was a good guy, one of the best investigators I’ve ever worked with.”

“We’re going to have a huge hole in the department,” Will agreed. “Why did Jim call you last night?”

“He wanted to run through something that was bugging him. And I’ve been thinking about it all day. Hans filled me in on the differences in the crimes Glenn confessed to and the Clark homicide. What I keep coming back to is Jim’s thought that the cuts were made postmortem.”

“Which means what? That the killer didn’t want the victim to suffer?”

“Yes. The killer wanted to kill her, but not torture her. There was no pleasure in the act of killing. Killing was a means to an end. And especially since Anna wasn’t the intended victim. If you’re right and everyone involved in the case knew Anna was going to be out of town, then the killer was surprised when Anna showed up.”

“There was one more thing about Anna’s crime scene,” Will said. “Glenn always tortured his victims in their bed, then moved them to the front door before slitting their throat. But there was no evidence that Anna was even in her bed that night.”

“That fits in with your theory that the killer was waiting for Robin,” Dillon agreed. “The killer surprises Anna, subdues her—according to Hans she was petite, so it would have been easy for someone of virtually any size to slit her throat. Then, to make it appear that Glenn killed her, the copycat makes incisions in her body with an identical weapon. Jim said that it appeared that the marks were made twice?”

“Yes,” Will said. “We talked about that yesterday, that the killer traced and deepened the marks. But the coroner at the time didn’t make note of anything odd.”

“Sometimes, we only see what we expect to see,” Dillon said sadly.

“We’re no closer to figuring this out,” Will said. “I need to interview the seven people Jim spoke with between clocking out and going home. I’ll drag them all down to interrogation—”

“Good idea,” Dillon said. “But I think I can do you one better.”

“How so?”

“Jim was hung up on why you were paged. Pagers started going out of fashion even back then. Everyone had cell phones. But I think the person didn’t want to talk to you. The person wanted you to come to the apartment and find the body. You, Will, specifically you.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Dillon.”

“The killer was angry with you. I told Jim last night that this sounded like a premeditated crime of passion. I suggested that he look into Robin McKenna’s ex-boyfriends, regulars at the club, anyone who may have wanted her dead and planned on using Glenn’s M.O. to do it. But not just anyone could have access to Glenn’s hair samples and, according to Jim, no one in the media knew about the bleach until the trial. That was insider knowledge.”

“Not to mention using the exact type of knife. Those details weren’t revealed until trial either,” Will interjected.