Killing Fear by Allison Brennan

elderly parents than if they simply let the testimony stand. “They’re not lying,” Ms. Chandler said. “They believe every word they said, and anything I do or ask will only make us seem heartless to the jury.”
    At the time, Sherry had never been so scared in her life. She’d been so certain the jury would acquit. Who wouldn’t believe Carl and Dorothy Glenn? They were good people. So good they couldn’t see the bad in anyone. Until Theodore was convicted, Sherry had planned to change her name and flee California. Go somewhere her brother couldn’t find her.
    Because Sherry knew Theodore would kill her.
    Two-oh-two. She had to go. It seemed ridiculous to drive four blocks to the school. A waste of gas. She’d always loved her walk, the time alone with Ashley listening to her talk nonstop about her day and her teacher and friends.
    But she was scared. Her car seemed so much safer than walking. If she saw her brother, she’d run him down.
    Sherry grabbed her purse and went out to the garage. Her hand automatically went to the garage door opener and pressed it.
    Nothing happened. She heard the mewling of a kitten. Sherry didn’t have a cat. She’d never been able to have another pet, not after what Theodore did.
    The neighbors next door had a cat.
    “Hello, Sherry.” In the dim light, Theodore smiled. He was wedged between two boxes. He’d probably overheard Sherry’s entire conversation with their mother.
    Her face froze, then her bottom lip trembled. He watched her face closely as he broke the neck of the animal with a quick movement of his hands, the snap surprisingly sharp.
    Eyes wide, terrified, Sherry’s scream came out too high-pitched to be heard by anyone outside the garage. She stepped toward the kitchen door.
    Theodore acted fast. He probably shouldn’t have played with his sister, but it had been fun. He took no pleasure in killing the animal, but he enjoyed the reaction he caused. When he’d killed Sherry’s furry little pet all those years ago, he’d laughed at her anguish. But what was truly the most fun was digging up the dead cat and putting it in her bed. Her scream then was even better than the pathetic yelp today.
    Before she could even reach the doorknob, he grabbed her from behind. She kicked and bit at his hand. Feisty bitch. Too little, too late. He’d always been stronger, and prison made him more so. Be strong or be killed.
    Sherry had been such fun for him to torment over the years. Then she’d betrayed him in the worst way. Shared their private games with the world. Told everyone he was sick. Thought she’d have the last laugh. Wrong.
    He wasn’t sick. He acknowledged that he was probably evil, but doing whatever he damn well pleased was so much fun. But sick? Hell no. That accusation had grated on him for years, as if something were wrong with him.
    He’d pay her back for turning against him.
    He whispered in her ear, “You thought you were going to get away with talking? Sis, I told you I’d kill you. Now you’re dead.”
    He snapped her neck, holding her close to him while she fell slack, then dropped her dying body to the concrete floor. He knelt over her, looked into her eyes as they lost focus, faded, taking satisfaction that he was the last face she’d ever see. Sherry’s face was frozen in fear, her mouth open, silently moving, blood trickling from the corner.
    He stood, found the cat where he’d dropped it, and tossed it on Sherry’s body.
    One down.
    He almost left, but had an idea. Something that would fuck with William Hooper like a bitch in heat.
    Theodore went into his dead sister’s house as if he owned the place and quickly got to work. He had a message for William. The only thing he regretted was that he wouldn’t be here to see his face.
    But he couldn’t hang around too long. He had places to go. First the library in downtown San Diego.
    Glenn had left something there seven years ago, and couldn’t wait to get his hands on it. When Hooper saw