Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(69)

“It’s not over,” Anthony said.

Not yet. Not even close.





CHAPTER TWELVE

Anthony didn’t go back to the police station. He called Jim and was told Lauren was at her office. When he was clear, Anthony went to her. He wanted to talk to her—alone—without all of the prying eyes at the police department.

Word of the Bayou Butcher’s death had spread like wildfire. Even as he drove to Lauren’s office, he heard the DJ talking about the death on the radio.

“Folks can rest easy in Baton Rouge tonight, the Bayou Butcher is off the streets. I for one am glad the bastard is burning in hell…”

Anthony leaned forward and pushed the dial, ending the broadcast.

He should have felt relief. He’d already gotten a call from his boss congratulating him.

Yeah, he’d stopped Walker, but Hamilton had still died. Stacy Crawford had died. The doctor at Angola—dead. The guard—dead. Walker had left a bloody trail in his wake.

A trail that had finally ended.

But one that still raised questions.

He showed his ID at Lauren’s office and got a fast track to her. There were two uniforms in the lobby, both wearing big grins. Everyone seemed to be celebrating Walker’s death, but didn’t they get it?

Another killer is still out there. A killer who’d taken far more lives than Walker had. A killer who could be hunting, even as they whooped and hollered.

Jim met him outside of Lauren’s office and offered his hand. “Good job, sir.”

So he kept being told. “I should have brought him in alive.”

Jim lowered his voice. “Why? To me, it’s better this way.”

Jaw locking, Anthony passed him and entered Lauren’s office. She was sitting behind a wide desk with a slew of papers in front of her. When she saw him, Lauren jumped to her feet and hurried toward him. “I heard—”

He caught her in his arms and pulled her tightly against his chest. Her sweet scent filled his lungs, banishing the coppery stench of blood that had clung to him since he’d found the judge’s body.

Her body felt warm and soft against his. Delicate. Fragile. He thought of Walker, charging with his knife.

He’d used that knife on Lauren.

When he’d pulled the trigger, Anthony had seen Lauren in his mind’s eye. The truth—brutal, dark—was that he could have shot the knife out of the bastard’s hands. He could have done it. He was a good enough marksman to have made it work.

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t wanted to just stop Walker.

He’d wanted to kill him.

I should have kept him alive. I wasn’t thinking, just feeling. Now we don’t have a link to the other bastard.

She pulled back and stared up at him with the gaze that had always seemed to see too deeply into him. “Is Paul going to be all right? I wanted to go to the hospital, but Jim said I should stay here.”

It had been Anthony’s order to Jim. Anthony hadn’t wanted her to leave until he got to her.

“Walker killed the judge before we got there. He stabbed Hamilton in the heart.”

Her eyes widened. “Does Julia—”

“She knows.” Cadence had made sure of it.

Lauren nodded. Her hands slid away from him. “I’m glad Walker’s gone.” A stark confession.

Tell her. His jaw locked, and he couldn’t speak. She said she was glad, but it was the heat of the moment. She didn’t fully realize the stakes.

If Walker had lived, he could have taken them to Jenny’s remains. Lauren could have finally brought her sister home.

“What is it?” She stared up at him, a faint furrow between her brows.

His hands tightened around her. “The last thing he said, it was about you.”

The stark understanding sank into her eyes. “Jenny.”

Anthony nodded. “Walker said, ‘Weeping willow tree. Tell Lauren.’” His jaw locked. “He didn’t have the chance to tell me anything more.”

Her lips parted as shock slacked her face.

“He wanted you to know, so I’m thinking…” Fuck. “She’s buried near a willow.” He’d gone over those words, again and again, in his mind. That was the only thing that made since to him.

The shock slowly faded. “A willow tree? My sister?” Her face was pale.

“I think if we find that tree, we’ll find her.” One tree in a f*cking huge search area.

A knock sounded at the door. Lauren stepped away from him, putting at least two feet between their bodies. He frowned at her as she said, “Come in.”

The door opened. Jim was there with a petite woman with short, red hair.

“Lauren, the reporters are already calling,” the redhead said as she shifted nervously from her left foot to her right. “You’re going to need to release a statement soon.”

“Of course, Bridgette. I’ll be out in just a moment.”

Bridgette nodded, and after a curious glance at Anthony, she slipped from the room.

Jim pulled the door closed behind them.

“Your job’s done,” Lauren said softy as her eyes found his. “Walker’s gone. No more fugitive apprehension needed.” Her gaze was carefully shielded, showing no signs of emotion.

Anthony could already feel the walls coming up between them. He could damn near see them. Not happening this time. “I told you before, this isn’t over.” He couldn’t keep his hands off her and didn’t want to try. He closed the space between them once more, his fingers curled over her shoulders, and he pulled her against him. They had a few precious moments alone, without any threat from a crazed killer. “The case may be over for me, but you and I aren’t done.”