Fear For Me (For Me #2)(41)

*


It was so damn dark that they could hardly see any tracks along the dirt road. It sure didn’t help that the road had split into three sections as it snaked into the woods and headed for the swamp.

Three sections—three ways for Walker to have vanished.

But Walker had been there. Anthony had met up with Wesley Hawthorne, and they’d gotten their lights out and scanned in the darkness. They’d found signs of a vehicle headed this way, a vehicle that had left tire tracks that were consistent with a midsize sedan.

Walker hadn’t returned to the city. He’d taken Lauren and headed for the swamp, the way he seemed to so enjoy when he killed.

Don’t kill her.

“There’s a cabin about two miles up ahead,” Wesley said. The guy wasn’t talking much, and that was a good thing. It was all Anthony could do to control the rage and fear twisting through him.

He’d told Lauren he would keep her safe. Instead, he’d just delivered her to Walker. Fucking delivered her.

“There’s water behind the cabin. The bayou snakes and twists all the way back here.”

Anthony’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “If our guy has a boat, then that’s how he was able to get from that damn cabin to here.”

He pushed the accelerator down even more. He swung the vehicle around some trees, then slammed on the brakes.

The sedan was abandoned, its trunk up, not ten feet away.

Anthony jumped from his SUV. His vehicle’s headlights lit up the scene as he advanced toward the Oldsmobile. His gun was gripped tightly in his right hand.

If he’d seen Walker right then, Anthony thought he might have shot the bastard on sight.

But Walker wasn’t there. Neither was Lauren.

The car was empty so that meant Walker had left on foot—with Lauren. Both Wesley and Anthony began to search the ground with their flashlights. The dark made it harder to notice any telltale tracks on the ground. Anthony yanked out his phone, calling Matt and ordering that the K-9 unit be brought into the area. They needed the tracking dogs.

To rush off on foot, Walker had to be close.

“Blood!” Wesley called out.

Anthony’s body tensed. His flashlight lit on the same spot Wesley had found. Sure enough, he saw the spray of red in the illumination from his light.

Lauren was hurt.

“The blood goes to the left.” Wesley was already following the faint trail. He had his gun gripped in his left hand. “The cabin is back that way.”

“Then let’s get the hell there, now.” He couldn’t stand the thought of her suffering. I’m coming, baby. I’m coming.

Their feet thudded over the earth as they followed the blood trail toward the cabin.

She’s alive. She’s alive. The words played through Anthony’s head again and again. Lauren had to be alive. For him, there wasn’t any alternative. Because if he burst through that cabin door and she was dead—

He didn’t know what he would do.

She’s alive. She has to be alive…





*


He’d handcuffed her. The cabin was stocked with duct tape, handcuffs, and knives. Walker had planned out this moment, and now she knew he was going to kill her.

He’d thrust her into a chair, yanked her handcuffed hands behind her, and duct-taped her ankles to the wobbly chair legs. The only light in the old cabin came from a lantern near his feet. His shirt had a dark shadow sweeping over it—his blood, not that he seemed to care he was bleeding.

He barely seemed to notice his wound. He was too fixated on her.

“I want to take my time with you.” His words were whispered and made the goose bumps on her arms rise even more. “I thought about you…” He picked up a knife. The guy had a whole set of knives, just waiting. “Thought all about what I’d do to you…”

“The cops are searching for me now!” Lauren yelled. She wasn’t going to beg him. Wouldn’t give him that pleasure. “You’re about to find yourself tossed back into a cage again, only you won’t ever escape this time! You’ll be in for life, you’ll—”

He pressed the tip of the knife against her cheek. It sliced into her, and she felt the wet roll of blood on her skin, heavier and warmer than a teardrop could ever be.

“Do I want to start with your face?” Walker asked musingly. “Or your body?”

Don’t beg. Don’t cry. She wouldn’t, no matter what happened. “What the hell happened to you, Walker? How did you wind up this way? You had a normal home, good parents…” She’d done her research. He’d had a great home life, even parents who’d sent him to therapy once they’re realized their boy was…different. The therapist had signed off on Jon after awhile, saying the guy was fine. Perfect mental health. Bullshit. The guy had just been a good actor, perfect at pretending there wasn’t a monster inside of him. “Why the hell are you like this?”

He smiled at her, and the sight nearly stopped her heartbeat. Jon Walker was a handsome man, almost boyish in appearance. He didn’t look like a monster. He looked like any southern boy—a guy who spent his time chasing women and cheering for his football team.

The guy had even played quarterback in his high school days. Been the freaking prom king.