FEAR NEVER DIES
Theodore Glenn loves to inflict pain . . . both on his victims and on those who later find the mutilated corpses. At his trial seven years ago, Glenn vowed vengeance on Detective Will Hooper, the cop who nabbed him, and beautiful Robin McKenna, the stripper whose testimony put him behind bars.
When a catastrophic disaster sets Glenn free, he blazes a freshly bloodied path across San Diego County. But the death he craves most is Robin McKenna's.
Putting aside their past troubled relationship, Will rushes to protect Robin, now a savvy businesswoman operating an upscale club. As the killings mount and Glenn proves a master manipulator, Robin and Will become snared in a twisted web of horror. But the shocking truth is even worse: The evil they are to face is even deadlier than they fear.
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January 28, 2008
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Excerpt from Killing Fear by Allison Brennan
I think of you every day, dream of you every night. So clear are my visions of your perfect naked body dancing just for me that when I wake each morning I see you at the foot of my bed in this godforsaken prison you sent me to.
I will come for you, but you won't know the day or the hour. I long for the wonderful moment when I watch your face next to mine, the truth in your eyes as you surrender to me.
Theodore folded the letter and stuffed it back down his pants as he leaned against the fence of San Quentin's East Block exercise yard. Exercise? Most of the men stood in groups talking or arguing or hiding an illegal smoke, easier in the cold when smoke could be mistaken for breath.
Defeated. That was the expression on most faces. Fated to spend the rest of their miserable lives in a crumbling, foul-smelling prison. Urine, fungi, and the stench Theodore could only describe as "wet dog"--but worse--permeated the interior. But here, in the pathetically small exercise yard, he tasted salt in the air, heard seagulls call, and remembered freedom.
Freedom that had been stolen from him by a stripper whore and the cop she was screwing.
The fog hung like a wet blanket over the exercise yard. Depressing and unnatural--Theodore despised the entire area. He missed the sun of San Diego, its warm beaches and hot days.
His appeal was only two months away, and he wouldn't be returning to prison no matter what happened in court.
He pulled out the letter to Robin and tore it into tiny pieces. Fucking lying bitch, you will pay for what you did to me!
As Theodore watched the paper float to the ground, the earth began to shake violently, back and forth. It threw him to the ground. What he would remember most about those thirty-two seconds was the overwhelming sound. He'd never realized an earthquake could be so loud.
It wasn't just the quake that caused the ear-splitting noise, but the collapse of the twenty-foot-high concrete wall separating the condemned inmates from the San Francisco Bay.
There were six guards posted on the catwalk outside the East Block wall, with .223 caliber mini rifles trained on the yard. But if Glenn couldn't stay upright, they certainly wouldn't be able to. He was banking on it.
Dust hung heavy in the air, burning his lungs, but Theodore Glenn jumped up and got moving. He'd felt more than seen the collapse of the concrete walls. Right in the middle they'd tumbled down, the weight of the crumbling rock yanking more of the wall to the ground, including at least one of the guards.
He ignored the sirens vibrating through the complex. Freedom was only a dozen yards away--over the concrete rubble. Theodore couldn't see the guard tower outside the fence. Had that collapsed as well? He could hope. If not, he would hope that enough of the condemned ran and he would not be shot.
Barely heard over the squeal of the alarms, there was erratic gunfire. Shouts from the catwalk caught Theodore's attention. He looked up, barely able to see the guard at the far south of the walk. The man was limping, but functional. Where were the others? Had they fallen to the other side? Twenty feet probably wouldn't kill them, but they'd likely be immobile.
Theodore carefully started up the slope that had been the wall. Razor wire, embedded in the destroyed wall, was now everywhere. While his sturdy shoes protected his feet, he couldn't use his hands for fear of slicing them. If he made it over the debris, he didn't want open cuts because there was only one way out:
The San Francisco Bay.
He sensed other inmates following him, and two were ahead. He saw the crooked arm of a guard, his green uniform covered in dust. Trapped by the concrete when it fell. Dead? Very likely. Theodore scanned the area for a rifle as he continued moving forward, up the concrete mountain. The weapon must be buried with the dead guard.
A voice from the far side of the catwalk ordered Theodore to stop. He didn't hesitate, but continued climbing the collapsed wall. He spied another guard near the top of the rubble, this one not dead but injured, blood pouring from a head wound. He kept shaking his head as if to clear it, but held fast to his rifle, which swung erratically to and fro. It didn't look like the guard could see much of anything, blood covering one eye. His expression was panicked. Fearful.
Theodore realized then that the guard who had ordered him to stop was trapped on the far side of the catwalk, which had partially collapsed, pulled down by the weight of the falling wall. Where were the other guards? The air was thick with dust and fog, Theodore wasn't sure what he was seeing.
"Stop!" the guard called again, but he was aiming his gun behind Theodore. How many were following him? Why wasn't the guard shooting? Afraid to hit a fallen officer?