Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(67)

Not soon enough. Too many days and nights had passed. Now he couldn’t stand to be confined. He’d taken to sleeping out in the open because he couldn’t bear to be in the cabins near the swamp. Not anymore. The walls closed in. He couldn’t breathe.

“I even let you target the ones you wanted for payback, when they weren’t the prey I would have chosen.”

He only liked to hurt women—the ones like sweet Jenny.

I even let you…

His partner’s words rang in his head. The anger erupted. “You don’t let me do anything.” Not anymore. I’m the leader now,” Jon said, straightening to his full height. A height that put him a good two inches shorter than his partner. “We do what I say because if the marshal gets close again, I will tell him all about Jenny. And you.”

His partner’s face flushed dark red. “They already know about me. Lauren told the cops you were talking to me. They know.”

Walker backed up a step, the move instinctive.

No, don’t back down. You’re in charge.

His partner glanced toward the door. “They’re gonna find this place. I told you, it was too f*cking obvious a choice. You need to get the hell out of here before the marshal comes or before the dogs hunt you down. You need to run.”

“I’m sick of running. I want Lauren,” The scent of blood was clogging his nostrils. Driving him wild.

He wanted it to be her blood. When Lauren was dead, when he finished the circle that had started with Jenny, his partner would see he was the one in charge. He wasn’t the student. He didn’t need to be taught.

This was his game.

His power.

In the distance, he heard the growl of an engine. Not just one engine. Two.

“Told you,” the other man said with a sigh. “How many escapes do you think you’ve got in you?”

“Plenty. Because you have to help me. If you don’t, I’ll send sweet Jenny home at last.”

A muscle jerked in the man’s jaw. “Go out the back. Run through the woods on the north side. I came in that way. My boat’s still there.”

Yes.

He spun, gave one last glance at Hamilton. Already rotting.

Not so high and mighty.

Soon, Lauren would be rotting, too.



Anthony braked his SUV, sending dust and dirt flying around his vehicle. He and Matt weren’t the first on the scene. To the right, he saw the Jeep with the Fish and Wildlife logo on the back, and he knew Wesley had already arrived—Wesley and Paul. The detective stood on the steps of the cabin, his gun held tightly in his hand.

There was another car at the scene, too. A beat-up sedan was parked near the side of the cabin. He noticed Wesley had parked his vehicle behind the sedan, blocking it in.

Maybe Wesley and Paul thought it was Walker’s stolen ride. They weren’t about to give the man the chance to escape in it.

Good move.

Anthony and Matt exited their SUV quickly. They drew their own weapons as they swept the scene.

“Wesley?” Anthony asked. He couldn’t see the guy.

“He went around back to block the exit.” Paul inclined his head toward the front door. “We just got here, freaking seconds before you.”

No need to wait any longer.

Anthony gave a nod. At the signal, Paul lifted his foot and kicked in the door.

The cabin wasn’t small. It wasn’t some shack. Instead it snaked and stretched back. But it didn’t take the men long to find the judge.

He was in the den, blood soaking him, duct tape still holding him trapped to the chair.

“Hell,” Paul muttered. “Too damn late.” He rushed toward the judge anyway, checking for a pulse.

With that much blood, Anthony didn’t expect Paul to find one.

“No pulse,” Paul said quietly, his voice thick, “but he’s still warm.”

A door crashed in from the back of the house. Anthony ran toward the sound and saw Wesley coming. He had a gun in his hands.

“He’s not out back,” Wesley said with a shake of his head

The body was warm, though, so he was f*cking close.

“The house is clear,” Matt said, hurrying up behind them. “He must have fled before we arrived.”

Not by car. There was only one road that led to and from the cabin, and they hadn’t passed any other vehicles.

Paul called for backup, giving the person on the other end the news that the judge had been found.

“We need to split up and search,” Anthony said. There was a hell of a lot of ground to cover, and not enough time.

Paul shoved the phone back into his pocket. “They’re ten minutes out.”

They weren’t waiting ten minutes. They kept their weapons close and headed out the back.

Twisting trees met them.

“It’s a fishing cabin, so where’s the water?” Anthony demanded. Water—it was the way Walker liked to escape.

Wesley pointed. “To the north.”

Maybe he was trying a different exit strategy this time.

Good thing there were four of them. Time to split up and cover as much ground as possible.



The boat wasn’t there.

Walker staggered to a stop on the rickety dock, the bloody knife still gripped in his fist.

The boat wasn’t there.