Fear For Me (For Me #2)(21)

Ginger Thomas. The mom of two Walker had killed.

“It even had her initials on the back.”

They’d never found one of Ginger’s trophies at Walker’s cabin. The crime scene teams had looked and looked. “Where did you find it?” Why didn’t you turn it in?

Her lips trembled. “In the bottom of my jewelry box. I didn’t see it before. I was looking to pawn some old gold, and—” She broke off, shaking her head. “It was there.”

Walker had shouted in court that the cops had the wrong man. He’d said he went into the Peterson house because he’d heard sixteen-year-old Kathy Johnson screaming when he’d been out jogging. He’d tried to help her and become covered in her blood.

When the Petersons came inside, they’d seen him crouched over Kathy, covered in her blood, because he’d been trying to save her.

It wasn’t me! Walker’s story, over and over again.

“It was him,” Stacy whispered.

Anthony pushed closer to Lauren. “Where’s the necklace now?”

Stacy swallowed. “At the bottom of the bayou. I didn’t want that damn thing anywhere near me.”

That was called destroying evidence. “You should have turned it in,” Lauren said, her voice hardening. “We could have—”

“Jon was already locked up! What good would it have done?” She swiped away another tear. “I just wanted it over.”

“It’s not over,” Anthony said, his voice rumbling. “Walker is out. He’s hunting.”

Stacy’s face seemed to become even paler. “I never did anything to him.”

“Neither did his other victims,” Lauren said. “He’s a sociopath. He kills because he wants to.”

“I loved him. You’re the one who sent him to jail.” Her voice had risen.

Lauren kept her own voice calm. “Have you seen him, Stacy? Has he tried to contact you?”

More of the frantic head shaking.

“Are you sure?” Lauren pressed softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.” She could all but feel the woman’s fear filling the small room.

“The marshals can offer you protection,” Anthony added.

“Marshals?” Stacy’s voice cracked. “Is that what you are? A marshal?”

He nodded. “I can keep you under guard. I can—”

“Forget it. I don’t need protection.” Her hands fisted. “I’m leaving town. I got me a new boyfriend, and we’re leaving after my shift tonight. There won’t be no more people staring down their noses at me. Whispering. I’m leaving.”

Lauren didn’t blame her. She was surprised Stacy had stayed around so long. “Why haven’t you left before?”

“My boyfriend didn’t want to leave. He had a job he was doin’, but it’s over, and we can go now.” Stacy pushed back her hair. “After my shift, I’m free.”

Stacy tried to slide around Lauren. Lauren moved a few inches to block her path. “He killed two people to escape, and he’s already killed a woman since getting out.”

Stacy blanched.

“He stabbed her, sliced her, and left her body broken.” I’m so sorry, Karen. Nausea rolled in Lauren’s stomach. “So think about this. Please think about this. Has he called you? Sent you any notes? Have you seen him—maybe even seen someone who looked like him?” He would have tried to disguise himself after he got out of prison.

“No.” Stacy straightened her thin shoulders. “Now I got to get back to work. I want you both to stay away from me.” She hurried away from them.

The door slammed behind her.

Lauren slowly turned to face Anthony. “Do you think she’s lying?”

“I think she’s scared out of her mind.”

So did Lauren. “She figured he’d never get out.” She pushed back her hair. “Now she’s running scared, and she’s about to run fast and hard.” I don’t blame you, Stacy. I’d want to run, too.

A very big part of her did want to run, but she couldn’t.

“I’ll do a sweep around the bar, talk to the bartenders, the waitresses,” Anthony said as his gaze left her. “If Walker comes within a hundred feet of this place, I want to know.”

Right. Sounded like a good plan.

She stepped forward and found that Anthony’s assessing green gaze had come back to her. “You’re good at your mask,” he said.

She was very much afraid her mask was about to break.

“Good at playing it cool so no one sees what you really feel.”

It had taken years to develop that mask, but when there was no choice, she’d learned to adapt. Clearing her throat, she managed, “I’ll have to tell the cops about the necklace.” Walker had always liked to take jewelry from his victims. Necklaces seemed to be his first choice, but if the vic wasn’t wearing a necklace, then he took earrings or rings. Something small. Easy to carry. “We’ll see if we can get a team to search for it—”

“Like right now,” he cut through her words, “you’re still wearing the mask. I can’t tell if you’re angry or scared or if you don’t f*cking feel a thing.”

She didn’t so much as blink. “I guess you don’t know me well.” But then, hadn’t that always been their problem? He saw her surface, nothing more. The way most people did.