Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(8)

He shouldered around Paul.

Paul grabbed his arm. “Who the hell are you and just why are you in my interrogation?”

Anthony yanked out his ID. “U.S. Marshal Anthony Ross.”

Paul blinked.

“And I’m here because I’m in charge of tracking the escaped fugitive Jon Walker.” Lauren could almost hear the dumbass that she knew Anthony wanted to tack on the end of his statement. Anthony had never been gifted with a whole lot of patience—or finesse.

Paul backed away.

Then Anthony bent over her. His hands swept over Lauren’s arms. “Were you hurt?” There was a deeper, more intimate note in his voice. One that reminded her far too much of other times.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t the one he stabbed.”

“No, but you were the target.”

That seemed to be the consensus, dammit. Anthony sure seemed certain enough of that. She stared into his eyes, seeing the faint gold around his pupils. Anthony was big, easily six feet three, with wide shoulders that had once done him proud during his college football days.

But he didn’t run on the field anymore.

Now he ran down fugitives. Protected witnesses.

Stared at her with a leashed fury in his eyes.

“Are we even sure it’s Walker?” Paul’s question was quiet, considering. “I mean, there are other killers out there.”

He was right. There were plenty of killers loose out there. But Jon Walker was in a category all by himself.

Paul shook his head. “Walker just escaped from prison—shouldn’t his first move have been a run for the border?”

Anthony’s expression never changed. “Not if he wanted revenge.”

Her heart beat faster.

Anthony’s stare was unnerving as he told her, “He had a picture of you in his cell. I don’t know how or when he got it, but Walker had it pinned right above his pillow, just where he could see it every night.”

A shiver slid over her.

“He escapes, then twenty-four hours later, a woman winds up dead, stabbed in your bed, Butcher-style.”

Paul stood behind Anthony, silent, but with an avid gaze on them.

“You don’t have to be a genius to connect those dots,” Anthony growled. “Walker’s coming for you. You put him in prison. You’re the one he wants dead.”

And Karen had—what? Been in the wrong place? Died, for Lauren?

So much blood. She tried—and failed—to shove the image out of her mind.

“If he wanted me dead—” She spoke slowly, trying to hold on to her control because of all the people in the world, she would not break in front of Anthony Ross.

Stay with me.

Those had been her words to him.

He hadn’t stayed.

Hadn’t cared enough to do so.

Her shoulders stiffened as she said again, “If he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be sitting here. He could have just stayed in the house, waited for me to get home, then he could have killed me.”

Now Paul cleared his throat. “Lauren, you said you heard a whisper when you got home.”

Anthony’s gaze sharpened.

Lauren gave a slow nod.

“Was that whisper from Karen?” Paul asked.

Lauren hesitated. “The wind was loud. I’d just come inside.”

“Was it a woman’s voice?” Paul pressed.

She closed her eyes for a moment, blocking him out, trying to block out Anthony, too. If only it was that easy.

But she focused and tried to remember…

The milk was sliding. The shutters banging. Then a whisper.

Lauren…

“I thought it was a man’s voice.” Her eyes opened. “But I can’t swear to that.” She, of all people, knew how unreliable witness testimony could be.

“If it was a man, he could have still been inside,” Paul said, voice tightening. “He could have been there—”

“And he got away when I ran out to meet the cops.” The thunder and rain would have masked the sound of the killer’s footsteps.

“Uniforms are searching the area,” Paul said. “We can—”

Anthony gave a hard shake of his head. “That’s not good enough.” Then he rose to his full height, a height that put him a few inches above Paul. “Jon Walker grew up in this area. He knows how to vanish in these swamps.”

Knew how, and had, for months before during his previous attacks.

Sometimes he’d taken his victims with him into those swamps.

“I can find him,” Paul said, voice grim. “I can track him down.”

Anthony’s gaze burned. “When it comes to fugitive apprehension, I’m in charge of the Walker case. The marshals will be finding him.” He stared down at Lauren. “We stop him before he gets close to the target he wants so desperately.”

Then he backed away. Marched for the door.

Her breath rasped out on a heavy sigh. That was it? He barged in, dropped the Walker photo bombshell on her, then vanished?

She shot to her feet. Almost instantly, she found her path blocked by Paul. Gritting her teeth, she said, “I need to talk to him.”

“My captain told me to hold you, to make sure—”

“I’m not leaving the station, but I am talking to him.” She was the DA. She’d played nice with him, but she wasn’t about to let any of the cops shove her into a corner. “Follow me, but you aren’t stopping me.” The only way he could stop her would be to arrest her, and she knew that wasn’t happening.