Fear For Me (For Me #2)(36)

“What’s going on?” Paul demanded as his gaze jumped between Anthony and Lauren.

“The killer left a note in Stacy Crawford’s throat. The bastard—”

“Whoa, hold up!” He lifted his hand. “Her throat? What the hell is that shit?”

Lauren swallowed and tried to stop her knees from shaking. “He left a note in Karen’s throat, too.” What the hell did it mean? Why the throat? “The bastard must be playing some kind of game with us. Taunting us.”

“Just what did the damn note say?” Paul demanded.

“The one he left on Stacy,” Anthony’s hard voice answered. “It contained a name. Steve Lynch.” His eyes glittered. “The bastard might have just told us his next victim.”

Paul swore. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

If they could get to him fast enough, Steve Lynch might survive to see another day.





*


Anthony stared at the dark house. No lights. No sign of movement. But Steve Lynch was supposed to be in there.

“This is my scene,” Paul said beside him, the detective’s voice low and heavy with intent. “Understand? You’re tracking Walker, but this is my city. I’m the homicide cop, and I’ll be the one taking lead here.”

If he’d been in the mood for a pissing match, Anthony would have said so. Paul had been the one to bring Lauren out there, the one to hold them all back when they wanted to rush inside and immediately find Lynch.

But Paul’s captain had given him the all clear to handle this his way, so they were following the detective’s orders.

For the moment.

Steve Lynch had no cell phone and no landline. He’d lost his job as a factory manager a little over two months ago. Divorced, childless, he lived in the last house on LeRoy Drive. The very quiet, last house.

Two police cruisers were behind them, but their lights were off. Everyone seemed to be playing the quiet game.

“Stay behind me,” Paul said as he checked his weapon. “If Walker hasn’t approached Lynch yet, this could be our chance to catch the bastard. We can put a watch on this house, wait for him, and then I’ll be the one to take him down.”

Anthony stared at the detective. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Or while we stand out here, pissing in the f*cking breeze, the guy could be dying inside—”

He heard the scream. A high, wild cry. A cry coming from inside the house.

Paul’s eyes widened, then he spun and rushed toward the house, clutching his weapon.

“Baton Rouge PD!” Paul yelled as he drew closer to the house. “Baton—”

Another scream.

Paul slammed his shoulder into the door, but it didn’t give way. When he hit it again, Anthony was with him, and the door shattered beneath them.

They rushed into the heavy and complete darkness. Anthony yanked out his flashlight and kept it held over his gun. He swept the scene.

Had the scream come from the left?

The right?

A new scream broke the silence. High. Loud. Desperate.





*


Lauren stood behind a uniformed cop. Two other cops had been with her, but as soon as Anthony and Paul burst into the house, the cops had taken off toward the back of the house to block off the escape path of anyone inside.

Anyone being Walker.

She swallowed in an attempt to ease the desperate dryness in her throat, but it didn’t help. Nothing could help.

The cop beside her was pushing forward onto the balls of his feet. The guy was clearly desperate to get inside to the action.

He had his orders, though. He’d been told by both Anthony and Paul to stick to her like freaking glue.

Another scream shook the night. The cop spun from her and reached into his patrol car. She heard the click from his radio, the crackle of static. “This is Officer McHenry. I’m on LeRoy, and we need—”

A twig snapped. The single sound shouldn’t have been so loud, but it was.

It had come from behind her. From the narrow line of woods behind the patrol car.

Her heart raced even faster. The cop hadn’t heard the twig snap. He was still talking on the radio. The snap, it could have been nothing. Could have been from an animal. A squirrel. A possum. She sucked in a deep breath. Then one more. She couldn’t let the fear push through her.

The threat was inside the house. That was where the screams were coming from. Inside, not out here.

The cop spun back toward her. “We’ve got more help on the way, ma’am. You should get in the car until—”

His words broke off in a desperate gurgle as the point of a knife came through the front of his shirt. It had gone into his back and come out of his chest.

His mouth hung open and under the moonlight, his whole body trembled as he staggered—then fell to the ground.

Lauren whirled away from him. Safety was in the house. She opened her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could. “Anthony!”

She was tackled from behind. Lauren hit the ground with an impact that bruised her whole body.





*


Anthony kicked in another door, and in the cavernous darkness, his flashlight fell on the man cowering in the corner.

“Steve Lynch?” he demanded as Paul rushed into the room behind him. It looked like the guy from the grainy photo he’d seen at the station.