Allison Brennan - Killing Fear

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.”

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, but 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.”