Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(9)

Five years ago, Jon Walker had abducted and mutilated coeds. No, he’d started with coeds. The first two victims he’d killed quickly, but by victim number three—Gina Richardson—he’d changed his kill method. He’d taken Gina into the swamp. Kept her alive for days. Taken his time as he tortured her.

Hunters had discovered Gina’s body a week later. What was left of it, anyway.

The cops had been monitoring every college campus in the area. Extra security procedures had been put into place by the administrations.

Curfews were instituted, and girls had been advised to not walk alone at night on the campuses. With dead coeds, no one had been willing to take chances.

The cops had been sure that they would catch the killer.

But as the security had tightened at the colleges, Walker had just moved on to a new hunting ground. He’d abducted a waitress from an all-night diner. Then a mom of two. A stripper had been his next victim. A teenage babysitter his seventh—and the victim who had finally tripped him up.

Kathy Johnson had been hired to watch the children at 508 Marigold Place—she’d agreed to stay all night for a little extra cash so that the Petersons could enjoy an anniversary night on the town.

Walker had known about Kathy’s schedule that night. He’d known about the kids who’d been asleep upstairs—kids who hadn’t even realized what was happening in their house.

But Carolyn Peterson had gotten sick at dinner. She and her husband had canceled their anniversary plans and come home early—and they’d found Walker using his knife on sixteen-year-old Kathy.

So many bodies. So much death. And it wasn’t over. It still wasn’t over.

Because she hadn’t done her job well enough. Sure, the press had all claimed that she’d done great. Her boss had been impressed. But, deep down, Lauren knew the truth. If I’d fought harder, the guy would have gotten the death penalty. Not life in prison.

Now it looked as if he wanted her to be the one to die.

She slipped by Paul and hurried to the door. Her fingers shook as she grabbed the knob. She yanked it hard to the left, then rushed outside of the room, too aware of all the glances that slid her way. Her own stare darted around the room.

She found Anthony’s retreating back. Saw him and two other men she didn’t recognize. More marshals? Anthony and the men turned for the exit.

“Ross!” Her voice whipped with an order.

Lauren could sound like she had authority when she needed to do it. No one had to know that her knees were shaking.

Anthony looked back at her. The man was still as handsome as ever. High cheekbones. Strong blade of a nose. High forehead. His dark hair was shorter than it had been before, the faint lines near his mouth were a bit deeper, but the guy was still too good-looking by far for her peace of mind.

Dark. Dangerous.

Her type.

Well, once upon a time, he had been. She was trying—very much trying—to stick with the good guys these days. Guys who were safe.

Her tennis shoes squeaked as she hurried across the bull pen. She hadn’t exactly been given time to change before being rushed to the station.

Was Paul following her? She didn’t hear his footsteps. That was good.

She closed in on Anthony. “We need to talk.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Later, ma’am.” His native Georgia drawl rolled lightly beneath his words. “Right now, I have a killer to hunt.”

She grabbed his arm. Held tight. “A killer who was in my house. A killer who murdered my friend.” Karen, I am so sorry. Each time she thought of Karen, it felt as if someone were clawing open her chest. “You aren’t shutting me out, understand, Ross? I’m working this with you. I am going to make sure this city doesn’t fall back into the Bayou Butcher madness it faced before.” When fear had held them all captive.

Fear of the dark.

Fear of the monster who waited in the dark.

Jon Walker had made children—and even adults—fear the boogeyman once more. Because he truly was that monster.

“I tracked him before,” Anthony said quietly. No emotion entered his voice or his gaze. “And I can do it again.”

Without you.

Unspoken, but the words were still there, hanging between them.

She wouldn’t back down. “My office will give you any support you need. We will work together on this.” She knew the reporters were probably already swarming outside. Paul had been right on that score—a story about her, about the Bayou Butcher—hell, yes, they were talking a front-page spread.

Anthony bent toward her. His scent—rich, masculine—surrounded her. His mouth was close to her ear when he whispered. “Haven’t you already come close enough to death?”

She turned her head. Met his stare. “Haven’t you?” Because she knew the risks he took, day in and day out.

Even when he’d left her, she’d followed his career. Anthony’s cases were the darkest she’d ever encountered. Brutal killers. Sadistic criminals.

Nightmares.

“Not close enough,” he told her softly. “Not yet.” His green gaze heated as it swept over her. “I missed you.”

Then he was gone. Hurrying away with the other two men as they went out on the hunt. When the station’s doors opened, she heard the shouts from the reporters.

Yes, they were there.