Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(63)

Julia’s nails bit into Lauren’s arm. Lauren glanced at her. Tears streaked down Julia’s cheeks. “We truly loved each other once.”

“He isn’t dead yet,” Lauren told her again. Please God, maybe he wouldn’t be. She yanked out her phone and called the lead reporter for Channel Six. She had Caroline Kramer on her speed dial. The woman answered on the second ring.

“We’re moving up the press conference,” Lauren told her. “I’ve got a story I want you to cover now.”

Taking a judge in daylight when so many people were out and about was a ballsy move—one that just might prove to be a fatal mistake for Walker.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I’ve got money!” the judge said, his face ashen, “I can pay you anything you want!”

“I already took the big bag of cash you had in the back of your car.” Walker grinned at the jerk. That much cash would sure come in handy, once he’d finished his business in Baton Rouge. He’d disappear with the money, start fresh. “I figure I don’t need a whole lot more.”

The judge strained against his bonds.

Walker’s smile faded. The judge was a big guy, a couple of inches taller than Walker, and the man had about fifty pounds on him. Hamilton might even be able to get out of the bonds if he struggled hard enough.

Walker glanced toward the door. His partner should have been here by now. He’d waited, only using the knife on the guy a little bit.

His skin isn’t like a woman’s. It doesn’t tear like silk. It’s too rough. Ugly.

It was time to kill the judge. Time to shut him up and watch him die.

“Let me go, and I can give you anything.”

He liked it when the guy begged, though. Power rushed through him with every plea. Once upon a time, this rich fool had been the one with the power. Sitting up on that fancy bench, wearing a big, black robe. Slamming down his gavel.

Sending me to rot.

His fingers tightened around the knife. He wanted to shove the blade deep into Hamilton’s chest. But he could use the guy first. Get some information from him. “Tell me what you know about Lauren.”

“The DA?”

Who the f*ck else would it be?

“She’s not staying at her house.” Which made hunting her so much harder. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know—”

Wrong answer. He shoved the knife into Hamilton’s shoulder. Blood spurted as he twisted the blade. Not the same. The blade didn’t cut right on the man. In a woman, it would have sliced deep, and the pulse of pleasure from the slice would have traveled all the way through him.

The normal pleasure didn’t come. He twisted the knife again, jerking it hard to the left. “You’re a f*cking judge! You should know where the DA is!”

“Probably with the marshal. He’s sticking to her every minute.” Hamilton’s breath panted out as sweat beaded his upper lip. “That’s—ahh, stop, please!”

“Tell me something useful, and I will.”

“I—I think they’re sleeping together…”

How was that useful?

“Saw the w-way he looked at her—stop, please!”

“I don’t give a shit who she screws.” It was just about the kill. About payback. Punishment. She’d taken so many years from him. She should have been dead long ago.

He’d gotten out of Angola. Started his own path. This time, he wasn’t going to stand in anyone’s f*cking shadow. It was his game. His rules.

That was why he’d left her a note.

It’s beginning.

He wanted her to understand. It was all about him. About his power. His control.

The Bayou Butcher’s run in Baton Rouge wouldn’t end, not until Lauren Chandler’s blood soaked his skin, and she drew her last breath.

A breath he’d be the one to take from her.

“Th-thought she was still sleeping with the detective…” Hamilton gasped. “Karen told me about them.”

The detective.

The knife pulled out of Hamilton’s shoulder with a slow, wet glide.

“What detective?” There were plenty who’d worked on his case before. Plenty who deserved—

“Voyt. Paul Voyt.”

Well, well.

“They were…” Hamilton sucked in deep, gulping breaths. “Screwing for a while. If she’s not with the marshal, you can probably find her hiding out at Voyt’s place.”

“That is helpful,” he whispered.

The front door opened. He’d left it unlocked. Why bother locking it when he only expected one person? The footsteps were heavy as they thudded over the hardwood floor.

He turned, deliberately keeping his smile in place.

His partner stood there, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. “The judge wasn’t on our list.”

“No, not our list.” He wiped the knife on his jeans, smearing the blood across the rough material. “My list.” It’s beginning. My beginning.

The judge gasped behind him. “Help me!”

The fool should have realized by now. Help wasn’t an option.



“We are asking for the public’s help in locating Judge Pierce Hamilton.” Lauren’s voice was smooth and calm as she stared into the circle of camera lenses around her. “Judge Hamilton’s BMW was found abandoned at Quick and Fill Gas Station, near Pontraine Lake, a few hours ago. Investigators checked the scene and determined there were signs of foul play.”