The Butcher and the Wren(29)

Emily is ready to abandon her. Jeremy can feel it. Self-preservation will win. He pumps the shotgun once and places the scope to his eye. Emily and Katie hear the sound, and Emily tries again to pull Katie along. Jeremy squeezes the trigger and hits his target with ease. Katie lets out an agonized screech as the bullet rips through her right kneecap, leaving a mangled mess of flesh and muscle flayed in each direction on her leg. She crumbles beneath the weight of her upper body and hits the moist ground with a slapping sound.

Emily’s choice is clear. She flees.

Jeremy slings the shotgun over his back and slides the bowie knife from its sheath as he swiftly walks toward Katie’s pathetic sobs. Like an apparition, he appears in front of her, and her eyes are wild with fear. He grins and squats beside her, pushing a piece of matted hair behind her ear.

“Shhh,” he whispers with a smile.

He grabs a handful of her hair, tilts her head back, and slowly drags the blade across her throat. He holds her there for a moment, allowing her to sputter and struggle until her body goes limp. Jeremy closes his eyes and listens to the music, both the organic symphony of the bayou and the canned music slithering through the speakers. He lets Katie’s head drop into the mud and cracks his neck.

Now, where did Emily run off to?





CHAPTER 18





“THIS IS DR. WREN MULLER from the ME’s office. We need an ambulance to 425 Basin Street.”

Wren digs through her bag, balancing her phone on her shoulder. The minutes are ticking by quickly as Leroux weaves the car through traffic toward their destination, toward a victim who might still be saved.

“Yes, St. Louis Cemetery 1. Possible medical emergency. If you can meet us at the entrance, we should be there in about”—she pauses to look at the dashboard clock—“eight minutes. Okay. Thank you.”

She lets the phone drop to the seat next to her and snaps another pair of gloves onto her hands. Her face is an equal mix of calm and resolve. Pieces of her hair have fallen loose from the high bun on the crown of her head. They fall around her hairline and lay delicately across her cheeks, now sprinkled with dirt from the crime scene.

The New Orleans landscape speeds by as Leroux honks aggressively at the car in front of them. Anyone who fails to pull over at the sound of their sirens falls victim to an unrelenting slew of curse words. His knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel. He’s not your typical jaded detective from a big box office thriller.

“Do you think this is a trap, Muller?” he asks finally, his tone measured and deliberate.

Wren leans her elbow against the passenger-side window, resting her temple in her hand.

She sighs. “I have to believe it’s not. And either way, we both have to treat it like it’s not. But just remember that we are adequately prepared if the situation proves otherwise.”

Leroux nods almost imperceptibly.

Wren straightens up. “Besides, Will and his gang of shiny youths will be there to back us up.”

A small smirk plays at the corner of her lips, and Leroux lets out a little chuckle.

“Youths,” he says, shaking his head. “Come on, they’re rookies, but they have been outside the womb longer than that, Muller.”

“I know. I’m only joking. If I didn’t trust their abilities, I wouldn’t be leaving my safety in their capable paws.”

Leroux turns serious. “I just worry that this guy is going to be sitting close by, watching while we all run around a cemetery gobbling up his poisoned breadcrumbs.”

Leroux turns right onto Basin Street. The corner is bustling with tourists and townies alike. A group of three women piles out of a massive yoga studio and toward a café with outdoor seating. People enjoy their lunch outside on this bright Louisiana afternoon, nibbling on buttery croissant sandwiches within sight of where someone might be desperately fighting to stay alive. He reaches the cemetery entrance, dotted with tall palm trees that mock the imposing white wall surrounding it. They bend slightly in the breeze and shake their fronds, welcoming visitors to this strange landmark, completely blind to the horrors that await inside.

Wren nods. “I know. The same scenario ran through my mind too. But our only choice is to try. I’m praying that the ambulance sees more action than I do this afternoon.”





CHAPTER 19





EMILY’S FEET ALMOST HOVER ABOVE the ground as she glides over unfamiliar terrain, with only a bouncing beam of light to guide her way. She did exactly what Jeremy had hoped. She abandoned Katie and indulged her own primal urge to survive.

He can feel Emily’s sudden, overwhelming panic. She pushes forward, but the swampy ground swallows her every step, making a sickening sound and forcing her to exert more energy than she can sustain. The bayou is working in tandem with Jeremy, lending its hand to help him accomplish his final vision. The environment belongs to him. And, more important, it has turned against her.

She stops, pushing her back into the hollow of a tree. Crumbs of earth and frenzied insects cascade down her shoulders as she leans against the moss and the mud of the massive trunk. He wonders if she thinks she is being quiet. He can hear her breath, quick and shallow. He tastes the fear in the air and can’t contain himself any longer.

“Emily!” his voice booms through the chaos. “It’s Cal, Emily!”