Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(20)

Another bored glance. “No.”

“Look at the photo.” Anthony’s voice snapped with command. “Have you seen this guy?”

The bouncer stood. Maybe that move was meant to intimidate, but since Anthony was an inch taller, it didn’t exactly work. “You a cop?” the guy demanded.

“Marshal.” Anthony kept holding the picture. “And this man enjoys slicing apart women.”

The bouncer’s gaze snapped back to the photo. This time, he looked. Under the flickering fluorescent light, he seemed to pale. “Nah, I ain’t seen that freak here.”

Anthony tucked the photo back into his pocket and pulled out a small, white card. “If you see him, you call me.”

The card disappeared in the bouncer’s fist.

Then they were inside. The music was even louder and the alcohol was flowing freely. The scent of stale beer and sweat filled the air. Bodies were smashed together in the dark spaces—and Lauren noticed that there were plenty of dark spaces.

When she’d come to Easy Street before, it had been during the daytime. She’d interviewed the staff, talked with Stacy Crawford—all when the bright lights were on.

Now, the place seemed so different. With the dark bayou waiting just beyond the small windows, the club held an air of menace.

“How many times did you talk to Stacy Crawford?” Anthony asked.

“Too many to count.”

“Then when we see her, you get things started. Maybe she’ll respond better to you.”

Highly doubtful, but she’d sure give it a try. Since Stacy had actually threatened to kill Lauren at one point, she didn’t particularly think they were headed for bosom-buddy territory.

You bitch! You ruined my life!

It hadn’t been the first time Lauren had been called a bitch. Not the last either. Not with her job.

Her gaze scanned the crowd and lit on the familiar figure of Stacy Crawford. Stacy’s hair color had changed since Lauren had last seen her. Instead of the blue black, Stacy’s hair was now an almost white blonde and she seemed thinner, paler.

Lauren pushed her way through the crowd. The waitress was leaning over the bar, slapping her hand on the counter as she tried to get the bartender’s attention.

“Stacy?”

Without looking back, Stacy said, “Be with ya in a minute—”

“It’s Lauren Chandler.” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the blare of music. “I’m the—”

Stacy whirled toward her. “I know who the hell you are.”

Stacy’s hair color had changed, but the hate in her brown eyes hadn’t.

Lauren cleared her throat. “Is there some place we can go to talk?”

“I don’t have a damn thing to say to you!” Stacy tried to shove past her.

Lauren caught her arm, her grip light. Anthony was silent, watching. “Walker escaped. He’s in the area.” Killing. She didn’t say that. Stacy had never believed Walker was a killer.

A tremble ran over Stacy, but she locked her jaw and gritted, “I know. The damn cops called me and I told them just what I’m telling you—f*ck off.” Then she yanked her arm away and stormed toward a door marked STAFF.

Lauren stared after her. That had pretty much gone as expected.

“So much for you getting witnesses to cooperate,” Anthony murmured.

He had not just said that. Lauren knew her eyes had just narrowed to slits. “Who said I was done?” She wasn’t some piece of fluff who couldn’t get a job done, even though this was way past just being a job.

This was about Karen. About a friend who hadn’t deserved to die in agony.

So much blood…

Lauren slammed the door on the image and took off after Stacy. The doorknob twisted easily beneath her hand. Anthony was right behind her, shadowing her steps.

Stacy was on her knees, crying, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

As Lauren approached, Stacy’s head whipped up. Her stare locked on Lauren. “Get out of here!”

Lauren didn’t move. She stood in the doorway, the light coming in behind her and Anthony, and she hurt for the woman.

Stacy might have shouted her support for Walker years ago, but this woman, broken on the floor, looked terrified.

Stacy swiped her hands over her cheeks and lurched to her feet. “This room is for staff only. You can’t—”

“You know he killed them all.” Lauren’s words were soft.

Stacy’s shoulders slumped.

“When did you start believing it?” Lauren asked. Stacy had been so solidly behind Walker during the trial. Lauren actually thought that Stacy was one of the main reasons he hadn’t gotten the death penalty. She’d kept telling the jury what a good man he was.

He’s so good to me. He’s never hurt me, never.

A tear leaked from Stacy’s eye. “I knew when I found the necklace.”

Lauren kept her expression blank. “What necklace?”

“The one with the twined hearts.” Stacy’s smile was broken. “The one I saw Ginger Thomas wearing in that damn picture that was always on the news.”

Ginger Thomas. The mom of two Walker had killed.

“It even had her initials on the back.”

They’d never found one of Ginger’s trophies at Walker’s cabin. The crime scene teams had looked and looked. “Where did you find it?” Why didn’t you turn it in?