Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(74)

She knew the drill. The hands were bagged to preserve any evidence, and when the body had been transferred to the morgue, Greg would have checked under the nails for skin samples or trace evidence that had been left behind.

“The judge must not have been given the chance to fight back. His nails were clean.” His gloved hand lifted and gestured near the judge’s head. She saw the dark bruising and cuts on his forehead. “I found chunks of glass that I believe will match up to the broken window from his BMW embedded in the wounds. It looks like Walker knocked him out, and when the judge woke up…” He pushed past the sheet, revealing the dark bruises around Hamilton’s wrists. “Hamilton was bound.”

“No chance to fight,” she whispered. Walker had wanted the power. She understood that. In court, the judge had been the one presiding. The one who got to decide Walker’s fate.

In the cabin, Walker had been the judge and the executioner.

Her gaze dropped to Hamilton’s throat. “Did he leave us a note?” After the first two notes had been found, she’d realized it had become a part of Walker’s process. Killing, leaving the note. A taunt, but not for the cops.

The taunts had been personal.

For Lauren Chandler.

“There was a note,” Greg said as he reached for an evidence bag.

She glanced over her shoulder. The other body bag would contain Walker’s remains.

She still wanted to see him.

Cadence took a step toward the black bag.

“Here,” Greg said.

She froze and glanced back, quickly reaching for the evidence bag.

She read the scrawled letters. The blood is on you.

“We’ll get the techs to confirm that the handwriting is the same, of course,” Greg murmured, “but it looks like a match to me.”

It looked like one to her, too. “He was blaming Lauren.”

Greg frowned at her. “How do you figure that?”

“All of the notes were for her.”

“Listen, Agent—”

“When he killed her friend, Walker wanted Lauren to know her punishment was just beginning.” She rolled her shoulders, trying to push away the never-ending tension. “Then he sent her to Steve Lynch’s house because that was where he planned to abduct her. He was laying his trap for Lauren. Only she got away.”

One brow rose. “Why would that mean the judge’s blood is on her?”

“Lauren was the one meant to die, not Hamilton.” Cadence shook her head. “Lauren was the focus of Walker’s rage. She was the reason he came back here.”

It’s beginning.

“Tell me something else,” he muttered. “Why the hell is the guy slicing their throats and putting the notes in there? I’ve seen some twisted shit in my time, but—”

Knowing what she did about Walker, this part was actually easy for her to understand. “He slices their throats because he’s taking away their voices. They can’t speak, they can only carry his messages. It’s control.” Her temples were throbbing, her shoulders aching. Sometimes, she just hated these cases. “Even in death, he’s controlling them completely.”

“Sounds like he’s trying to control Lauren, too.”

Of course, he was. She turned toward Walker’s body bag. “I want to see him.”

“I haven’t started evidence collection yet. There’s not much I can tell you.” He walked around the table and approached the zipped body bag.

The slide of the zipper seemed overly loud in the small room.

Then she saw Walker’s face. In death, he almost looked peaceful. Death had a way of doing that to people, even the monsters of the world.

Her gaze slid to his chest. Two gunshots. One had come from Ross. One from Voyt. They’d made sure the killer didn’t get away again.

Based on the statements from the men, Ross had fired first. Then Voyt.

Her gaze swept over Walker. The clothes that covered him looked old—faded jeans, a dark T-shirt. He wore hiking boots. Soil on the bottom of those boots might give them insight into all the places he’d been.

“You really think there are two of them?” Greg asked as he waited beside her.

She glanced up at him. “Yes, I do.” She was actually certain of it.

“I heard talk from the cops. They don’t think that’s the case. There aren’t any bodies, and the only one who is sure another killer exists is the DA. And she’s remembering overhearing a conversation after she’d gotten her head slammed into a wall.”

Their gazes held.

“Speaking as a doctor,” he murmured, “those with concussions don’t make for the best witnesses.”

Her head cocked. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to warn me?”

“Because I am. The police captain was down here earlier, wanting to make sure I thought Walker was behind all the recent kills. Walker and only Walker.” A beat of silence. “One serial killer is bad for business. Two in the same town? That’s just a shit storm.”

One she was betting the captain and the mayor didn’t want coming. “They’re going to try and push this away, aren’t they?”

A nod. “No bodies, no deaths.”

“I won’t let this investigation end.” She glanced back at the body. “Where’s his cell phone?”