Allison Brennan - Killing Fear

Even though perhaps they should have been seven years ago.

“You know that’s not-”

“Carina, I don’t announce to the world who I’m involved with. It’s nobody’s business. For what it’s worth, Trinity and I dated after the Kessler trial three years ago. We split amicably. I like her. She’s smart and fun. But it didn’t work out, okay? And that’s that.”

“You know I don’t care about your love life, but-”

“You don’t? You constantly make snide comments about my dating. I’ve let it go because we’re partners and friends.”

Carina frowned. “I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

Will shrugged. “Water under the bridge.” He paused. He considered telling Carina about his relationship with Robin, but right now it wouldn’t matter. She already knew what was important. The records reflected that he’d been across the street in the bar with Robin after hours when Anna was killed. He just never told anyone that they were in there having sex.

“Let’s focus on Glenn,” Will said, pushing back the encroaching emotion. “He had a purpose in seeking out Trinity.”

“She said he wants her to prove he didn’t kill Anna Clark.”

“And the evidence-the biological evidence-points to him. It was a righteous conviction. Theodore Glenn is a cold, ruthless killer. I don’t know what his game is, but I’m sure he has one.”

But even as he said it, Will couldn’t figure out Glenn’s angle. Why admit to a reporter that he killed three of four women?

“You don’t think that there’s something just a little-weird in this?”

He sighed. “Yes, something is off. When Gage has a few minutes, maybe the three of us can look at the evidence again. But I still think Glenn is trying to divert our attention to this instead of focusing on his recapture.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“We can work through the facts after we get him back into custody. He’s dangerous, Carina. And he will continue to kill until we lock him up.”

“What do you think if we give my brother Dillon a call?”

“Dillon knows about Glenn,” Will said. Carina’s brother was a forensic psychiatrist who had consulted with the police department and served as an expert witness for the district attorney until he moved to Washington, D.C., last year. “He didn’t work the case, but he knows enough and we can bring him up to speed quickly.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s eight thirty on the East Coast. Why don’t you call him?”

Carina asked what Will had been thinking since leaving Trinity’s. “What if Glenn is telling the truth about Anna Clark? What if he didn’t kill her?”

“Then we have two killers at large.” He still believed Glenn was the only one who could have killed Anna, but at the same time he couldn’t figure out his game.

Carina was dialing Dillon’s number when Will’s cell phone rang. “Hooper,” he said as they entered the building.

“Shots fired at 1010 North Highland. Neighbor phoned it in, officers en route. But the address is flagged.”

“Frank.” Will slammed his phone shut and turned to Carina. “Tell your brother we’ll call him back. Shots fired at Frank’s house.”

Once Jim Gage and his two assistants left, Trinity felt alone and restless, even with a police car parked out front. She didn’t want to stay around the house, and finally showered-with the bathroom door locked and a chair propped against the knob-dressed, and went down to the television station. She’d put on an act around Will and the others. Truth was, she was scared. And she would be very, very careful. She didn’t want to end up dead.

But there was a story here, a potentially big story, and she didn’t want to get scooped. Theodore Glenn had given her something -she just had to figure out exactly what it was and how to use it.

As soon as she walked into the main offices of the television station where she’d worked for eight years, her direct supervisor, Charlie Boyd, rushed to her side. “Where’s the photo?”

“The police took it.”

“Damn, I told you not to give it to them.”

“I couldn’t withhold evidence, Charlie. You know that.”

He sighed, ran a hand through his thick hair. “I know, I know, but damn, I wish we had it as backup.”

“They’re not going to lie about it,” she said. “They may claim ‘no comment,’ but Will Hooper isn’t going to deny the picture exists. I scanned it high res, it should withstand scrutiny.”

“What else did he say?”

Trinity motioned for Charlie to follow her into her office. She had a small closet with a tiny window, just enough for a chair, desk, and computer, but it was all hers-she had earned the door.

Charlie put his hands up on either side of his head. “‘Award-winning reporter held captive by escaped convict,’” he said, dropping his hands. “How does that sound?”

“It would be bigger news if I were dead,” she said, trying to laugh it off, but her heart wasn’t in it. She kept replaying the conversation between her and Theodore over and over in her head.

“We have to get this on the air. ASAP.”

“The police don’t want to give him airtime. Detective Hooper thinks that will only encourage him. Charlie, he killed his own sister.”

Though Trinity pushed envelopes whenever and wherever she could, she also prided herself on maintaining a good working relationship with the police department since she specialized in reporting on crime and punishment. She’d covered every major trial, interviewed both killers and cops, and had an exclusive program with the district attorney himself, Andrew Stanton, which aired pre-prime time the first Wednesday of every month. That show alone had brought the attention of bigwigs in L.A., who’d offered her a show and more money if she’d sign a five-year contract. But she didn’t want to go to L.A. for five years, and they wouldn’t agree to a year-by-year, so she stayed put in a position where she could leave whenever an opportunity arose. And she was looking for one.

She wouldn’t go against Hooper’s orders to lay low on this, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do something. She had reams of paperwork on this case, access to the files, and interviews she’d conducted with detectives Hooper and Sturgeon, the victims’ families, and the strippers who had worked with the dead women. Then there was the trial transcript itself.

The only thing she didn’t have were the sealed records of what had happened in the judge’s chambers. She couldn’t simply trust Theodore Glenn’s word that evidence was tossed out because of police or lab error. But there might be someone else she could go to.

“You sent me that photo-a cop sleeping on the job when he was supposed to be watching a suspect? That’s news. I’m not sitting on it.”

“Charlie, I need a few days to pursue this story.”

“Then why did you send me the picture?”

“Because I knew I had to turn it over and I’d never see it again. This way, we have it for when we go big.”

“This is television, baby. We go big now, and make it bigger.”

“Yes, there’s a story, but the cops aren’t going to talk about one of their own. You know that. We have to dig deeper and then hit them all hard.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I should never have sent it to you.”

“Don’t clam up on me now, Trinity.”

“I’m not. I need to do some research, some more interviews. No one else has this, Charlie. No one is going to scoop me.” She hoped.

“You’re not going to try and contact Glenn, are you? The man is insane.”

“He’s not insane. Dangerous, yes. A sociopath, probably. But he knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m going to be careful. The police are watching my place, and Glenn isn’t going to try anything in broad daylight. Not with the Feds, the CHP, and the San Diego Police Department all looking for him. He’ll probably lay low during the day. He’s smart.”