Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(87)

Anthony glanced back at the charred remains of the house. “Jesus,” Paul said.

“Did you find Hawthorne?” Anthony demanded.

Paul shook his head. “You can’t actually think he—”

“A Jeep Wrangler left the scene. Our killer knows the swamp. Hell, when it comes to the swamp, you told me yourself, no one knows the area like Hawthorne.”

Paul’s shoulders dropped. “He’s a friend. We’ve been friends since high school. We were on the football team together.”

“I don’t care if you were f*cking frat brothers together, I want to know where he is.” Anthony’s control was gone. Burned away.

So was the ice that had protected Lauren. She was raw and desperate.

Anthony was enraged and dangerous.

“I sent a patrol by his home.” Paul swallowed. “He wasn’t there. His Jeep was gone.”

“Where is he?”

“His boss said they got a report of some nuisance gators in the area. He thinks Wesley went into the swamp to check things out.” Paul’s words tumbled out fast. “He’s just out doing his job.”

“Is he?” Doubt was heavy in the two words.

Paul straightened. “I’ll find him. His boss is gonna page him. Gonna send some men to help me go out and meet up with him, but I’m telling you…it isn’t Wesley.”

“When we find him, we’ll know for sure.”

Lauren dropped the blanket.

“Look, the task force is meeting at the station,” Paul said. “The FBI agents want you both to come in, then we can figure out what the hell our next move is.”

Anthony wasn’t moving.

“You have to come in,” Paul said, his voice almost beseeching. “The police chief ordered us all back. After this…” He threw another glance at the fire. “He wants a full rundown of every detail Greg has discovered with his tests. Come in.”

“I want Hawthorne.”

“We’ll find him!” Paul backed up a step. His hands clenched. He was wearing his riding gloves. She saw the dark outline of the gloves when his knuckles curled. “But the chief wants us there within the hour.”

Anthony stared steadily back at him. “Fine. We’ll be there.” He took Lauren’s arms. “Let’s go.”

Shock held her silent. This was it. They were just…walking away. In his car, a bubble of hysterical laughter nearly broke from her. “It’s never going to end.”

The killer would keep coming for her until she joined her sister in death.

“Yes. It f*cking is.” He jerked the gearshift into reverse and spun them out of the drive. She glanced at him and saw the muscle flexing in the hard line of his jaw.

“Tony?”

He had his phone out and at his ear. “Matt? Where are you?”

She couldn’t hear the other marshal’s response, but Anthony said, “Good. We’re on the way. Call the techs. I want them to run a trace on this number.” He rattled off a telephone number. “It belongs to a Wesley Hawthorne. Yeah, the agent with Fish and Wildlife. I want to know the location of his phone. Hell, yes, the techs can figure that. If the phone is on, they can trace the signal and tell us exactly where he is.”

Her fingers hurt, and she realized it was because she had them so tightly twisted in her lap.

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Anthony said and ended the call. The SUV started to move faster.

She swallowed to ease the dryness of her throat. She could taste the fire. “You really think it’s Wesley?”

“I think I want the cops pulling over every Jeep Wrangler that’s out on the streets tonight. I want the tags and registrations for every guy who drives a Jeep, every guy who matches Cadence’s profile.” He slanted her a fast look. “But right now, we already know Hawthorne matches that profile, so I want to know just where the hell he is.”

She wanted to know where he was, too.

“If Voyt won’t question Hawthorne, then the marshals can find him.” He flashed her a tiger’s smile. “And we’ll do the questioning on our own.”



Anthony rushed through the hotel lobby, heading fast for his old room, a room still booked in his name because he controlled the hotel block for the task force. Lauren was at his side, looking shaken and scared.

The elevator doors slid closed behind them, sealing them inside.

“There’s ash on your cheek.” He stepped toward her. Cupped her cheek. Wiped away the smear on her delicate flesh.

It could have been so much more than ash. The killer could have shot her. Burned her body. Burned us both. The house would have become our grave.

He wasn’t ready to die yet.

“I have a backup weapon in my room. I want you to take it and keep it with you.”

She nodded. “What are you planning to do?”

“If Hawthorne has used his phone in the last hour, the techs will trace it.” Big Brother was most definitely watching, in ways most people didn’t even realize. “We’ve got satellite links tracing his phone’s signal. We can pinpoint his location, and we will find the guy tonight.”

There would be no more vanishing into the swamps. No more taking prey.

Not gonna happen.