Fear For Me (For Me #2)(29)

“Then why is Karen dead?” Lauren snapped out the words, feeling raw. “If he wants me—”

“If you die too quickly, then you don’t get to suffer enough, do you?”

Right then, she was suffering plenty. By killing Karen, the bastard had ripped out Lauren’s heart.

“For a man who’s been isolated the last five years of his life,” Cadence said, her voice thoughtful, “he sure was able to gain access to transportation and supplies fast enough.”

“Anthony thinks someone has been helping him.” So did she. But—who?

“Helping him, yes.” Cadence gave a slow nod. “But for how long?” Her head tilted as she seemed to consider her own question. “I’ll need to see all the evidence from the earlier cases. Every piece of information you had on Walker.”

Lauren’s heart was beating faster. “The original kills were only on Walker. There was never any sign of someone else—”

“Maybe,” Cadence said quietly. “Or maybe you just didn’t know what to look for. Who to look for.” Cadence’s lips thinned. “I’ve been tracking killers for years. I know how they work, and I also know that sometimes, they don’t work alone.” Her breath whispered out. “We might be looking at an alpha team.”

“Excuse me?” Lauren thought her heart was going to burst from her chest.

“An alpha team—two brutal, efficient serials working together. But alpha teams are so rare.” Cadence lifted her hand, as if waving the thought away. “I need to see all the evidence,” she said again. “Before I can work up any additional profile on Walker, I need those files.”

Two serials. Lauren swallowed the thick lump in her throat. “It’s just Jon.”

It had to be.

It’s just Jon.

Cadence’s eyes were veiled, guarded, and the fear in Lauren’s gut thickened.





*


It was close to noon when Anthony spotted the tire tracks. He and Wesley both stopped at the same time. Sweat had slickened their shirts, and the heat was just getting started.

The tracks—

“They’re fresh,” Wesley muttered as he bent. His left hand hovered above the tracks.

Yes, they were fresh. Grooves left in the mud, tracks that had been made after the last rain.

“Looks like a motorcycle,” Paul said as he closed in behind them. “My Harley leaves tracks about an inch wider.”

Anthony frowned at him.

Paul shrugged. “If you’re going off-road up here, bikes can come in handy.”

So the killer was finding out.

The small group picked up more steam as they began to follow the tracks. One of Walker’s victims had been found in this vicinity. Well, what had been left of her. She’d been tossed aside and discovered by a local fisherman.

It had taken the ME weeks to make a full ID.

As they drew closer to the old dump site, the tire tracks remained steady.

Anthony glanced over his shoulder. Lauren was just a few feet behind him. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She hadn’t talked much during the trek, except for her quiet conversation with Cadence. A conversation that had pissed him off.

He wants to kill me.

Screw what Walker wanted.

He inhaled, turning away from her. The scent of vegetation was thick in the area, but there was something else hanging in the air, too. A harsh odor that grew stronger with every step they took.

A familiar, coppery scent.

He grabbed Wesley’s arm. The guy turned toward him, the same knowledge in his eyes.

They pushed through the brush and saw the small clearing.

He’s used the same site to dump a body again.

Anthony heard the sharp inhalation that came from Lauren, but he didn’t look back at her. He was too busy staring straight ahead, and fighting to keep his fury in check.

A woman lay on the ground, spread-eagle, with her hands thrown out at her sides. Blood soaked her. So much blood. Her head was turned away from him, but he recognized the bright-blonde hair. Recognized the short skirt and the discarded high heels that were just inches from her body.

Stacy Crawford hadn’t made it out of the city. She hadn’t made it far at all from Easy Street.

“She was supposed to get away,” Lauren whispered. “She was leaving…”

But Walker had gotten to her before she could get away.

He heard Paul call for backup. Carefully, Anthony walked around the body. He wasn’t about to contaminate the scene, but he needed to see—

Fuck. Her body had been sliced, deeper, harder, than the other victims’. And, unlike with Karen, Walker had sliced Stacy’s face. Again and again…

“Betrayal.” The word came from Cadence. She’d followed Anthony’s footsteps, moving in the exact same way because he knew she wouldn’t be risking crime scene contamination, either. “This attack was personal.”

Anthony turned his head to study Cadence. He’d had plenty of experience with profilers—some who knew their shit, some who tossed guesses into the wind. He’d worked with Cadence twice before, and the woman fell into the knowing-her-shit category. “Why betrayal?”

“Because there’s anger in the cuts. They’re deep, wild. He usually slices cleanly, and to go after her face so intently…” An exhale. “He was punishing her. You punish for a betrayal.”